Kiss Now, Lie Later Page 8

  I start towards the woods.

  “Where are you going?” she calls after me.

  “What do you mean?” I turn back around. The handful of times we’ve met here, we’ve always walked down to the lakeshore.

  “We’re not staying here. I just wanted to take one car so I could surprise you.”

  “Really?” I arch an eyebrow.

  Maeve nods.

  “Okay,” I walk back over to her. She opens the trunk of her car and pulls out a duffle bag. It’s close to bursting, the seams straining against the contents. I eye it curiously. “If we’re not staying here, how come you’re unloading?” I ask.

  Maeve bites her bottom lip. “Your car’s better suited for my plans,” she admits.

  “What, are we off-roading or something?”

  “Or something,” she replies cryptically.

  I head back over to my car, opening the trunk for her. She places the bag in the back of the car and holds out her hand expectantly. “Keys, please.”

  I smirk. “You think I’m going to let you drive my car?”

  Maeve doesn’t waver. “Yes.”

  Twenty minutes later, I glance over at her from the unfamiliar vantage point of my front passenger seat. “Are you planning to stop before we hit New York?” I ask.

  Maeve scoffs. “Patience is a virtue, Cole.”

  “I don’t have many of those,” I tease. She mutters something under her breath.

  It’s probably another ten minutes before Maeve begins to slow the car and takes an exit off the highway. Other cars keep whizzing past us as we roll down the exit ramp towards the dark, empty road it intersects with. Despite the entirely empty street, Maeve still sits at the stop sign for a whole three seconds and flicks the blinker on before turning to the right. I smile to myself. She's a rule follower. Which makes the fact she’s currently driving my car all the more ludicrous.

  We continue along the seemingly abandoned road until flashing lights suddenly appear to the right. Maeve pulls the car under the marquee display that reads “Olneyville Drive-In.”

  “We’re going to the movies?” I ask.

  “I figured the Glenmont Cinema was out,” she replies. She hands the attendant some money, and the gate opens, letting us into the already crowded cement lot in front of the massive screen displayed before us. Maeve backs in the next available spot, so that we’re facing away from the screen.

  “Come on, Cole,” she urges, climbing out of the driver’s seat and heading towards the rear of the car. I follow her, watching as she lifts the back door of my SUV and zips open her bag. She pulls out a fluffy blanket and a couple of pillows, followed by an assortment of candy and popcorn. I’m truly amazed she managed to fit it all inside the duffel. She takes a seat on the tailgate, pulling off her sneakers and setting them to the side before spreading out the blanket and the pillows.

  I climb in after her, pulling off my own shoes and laying down. We have a perfect vantage point towards the screen. Maeve lies down beside me, and she doesn’t leave a lot of space between us. My body immediately reacts to her proximity. To her now familiar scent, like citrus and sunshine. To the sight of her in my sweatshirt.

  The opening credits flash across the massive screen, and I glance over at her, shocked. She shrugs, a small smile playing across her lips.

  “You said it was your favorite movie.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I reply softly. I hope my expression conveys how much this means to me, because I can’t muster the right words right now.

  We settle against the soft pillows as the movie starts, passing the snacks Maeve brought back and forth between us. She falls asleep halfway through the movie, and I give up on watching the familiar film as soon as she does, opting to study her instead. The pert tip of her nose, the eleven freckles that decorate her cheeks, the elegant curve of her jaw.

  Someone slams a door shut in the car next to us, and she startles, groaning as she rolls over. We’re already close, so she ends up half on top of me. Surprised green eyes suddenly meet mine.

  I give Maeve a sheepish grin I hope comes off as more charming than concupiscent. “What? It’s chemistry.”

  She laughs. “I think you mean biology.”

  “Okay, I’ll blame that field of science too,” I smirk.

  She scoots up slightly, creating more delicious friction between our bodies and invoking even more of a response from mine. Our faces are only inches apart, millimeters maybe.

  “Why did you kiss me back at that party, Maeve?” I whisper. She bites her lower lip, and we’re close enough I can see the enticing pink retreat from the indentations her teeth are making.

  Instead of answering, she tosses a question back at me. “Why haven’t you kissed me since?”

  I let out a long exhale. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to. You know it’s a bad idea. We’re a bad idea. This is risky enough, getting more involved will–”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Maeve interrupts. She tries to roll away, but I tighten my grip, holding her in place. Irritation flashes across her pretty features. “It would have been nice if you’d thought of that before the cheerleader party, Wes,” she informs me.

  “The cheerleader party?”

  “Yes. The party we were at together.”

  “That applies to more than one party, Maeve,” I reply.

  “Fine, the one where you kissed me, then. Or are we still pretending that didn’t happen?”

  “Do you want to pretend it didn’t happen?” I counter.

  “That’s what I’ve spent all summer doing, Wes. You’re the one who brought it up.”

  “Yeah, I did,” I admit. “Because this feels . . . this feels like something more than being workout buddies.”

  “Because we’re not working out?”

  I smirk. “That, and this is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  Maeve breaks eye contact. “I felt badly. About how we left things.”

  “You don’t need to,” I reassure her. “But just to be clear, I’ve never asked you to do anything out of pity. The only reason I texted you that night was because I wanted to hang out with you. You were the only person I wanted to be around, actually.”

  “Saying shit like that doesn’t make pretending any easier, Wes.”

  “Pretending what?”

  “That I don’t want you to kiss me.”

  “You want me to kiss you?”

  “Wow, you’re terrible at reading body language.”

  I laugh. “Never been told that one before. My receivers say the opposite.”

  I shift so our faces are even closer together, and Maeve stiffens. “What are you doing?”

  “Well, I was going to act on the verb we’ve been discussing for what feels like the past ten minutes,” I respond. “Is this your idea of foreplay?”

  Maeve scoffs. “One, let me remind you again that you brought it up. And two, you literally just said it was a bad idea.”

  “I did,” I confirm. “And I was relying on you to be the voice of reason. Which you failed spectacularly at, by the way. Because I spend a lot of time thinking about that bad idea. And badder ideas.”

  Maeve smirks. “Badder ideas? I’m not sure your idol Shakespeare would approve of that grammar.”

  “Maeve, you’re literally lying on top of me right now. I’m not exactly thinking about proper grammar. Plus, the man was an innovator. Haven’t you heard of iambic pentameter?”

  “Who’s the nerd now?”

  I laugh, but then sober. “Maeve, I need you to tell me if you don’t want this to happen. I’m losing willpower fast here.”

  “Lose it faster,” she whispers, and I’m done. I think I knew this was inevitable from the moment I stepped on the Glenmont running track. I’ve certainly hoped it would be, despite the many, many reasons why it shouldn’t be.

  She kisses me first this time, and it’s just as eerily incredible as it was in Josh’s backyard. It’s not awkward or sloppy or hurried. It’s sl
ow and languid and thrilling.

  It’s exhilarating. Maeve Stevens exhilarates me.

  I ease her back against the blanket she brought, angling my head as I slip my tongue inside her mouth. She whimpers as I tug on her bottom lip with my teeth, and slides her hands into my hair. I groan as she drags her fingers against my scalp.

  I ghost my fingers across the muscles of her abdomen, and feel the defined muscles ripple underneath my touch. We keep kissing, growing increasingly heated as we venture closer and closer to some of the ‘badder’ things I’ve imagined.

  The sound of the engine next to us revving is what finally breaks the spell. We pull apart, both breathing heavily.

  “Because I’d thought about it for the past two years,” Maeve says softly.

  “What?” I was hoping for a “wow” or a “damn.”

  “You asked me why I kissed you back last time. Because I’d thought about it ever since we talked at the end of freshman year. For the past two years.”

  “That’s a lot of anticipation.”

  “I wouldn’t say it posed any problem for you,” Maeve admits, blushing slightly.

  “That’s good to know,” I respond, grinning.

  And then I kiss her again.

  chapter ten

  Maeve

  The first day of senior year is anticlimactic. Typical. Exactly what I’ve come to expect from the halls of Glenmont High. With one exception. One I’m daydreaming about during lunch, until I realized Sam Jackson is talking to me.

  “Huh?” I employ Wes's standard response.

  “I heard you and Crawford had a nice little honeymoon last week, Maeve,” Sam teases.

  “Yup, it was super romantic triple dating with my parents and grandparents,” I respond. “Oh, and Liam as the seventh wheel.”

  “I’m sure you managed to sneak away from the fam for some alone time,” Sam says, winking.

  I laugh. “For hot dogs on the pier? I hope you have better things to do with your time than speculate about my dating life, Sam.”

  “I really don’t,” he replies, giving me a cheeky grin. “The whole school’s wondering if you’re finally going to give a Glenmont guy a chance.” I roll my eyes at his exaggeration, although I’m used to the comments about how the only guys I’ve shown the slightest bit of interest in have been from Fayetteville. With one glaring exception. If people really do think Matt and I are a thing, I’m not surprised there’s gossip. He’s one of the most popular guys in school.

  “I’m too busy to date anyone,” I reply.

  Brooke snorts from her spot across from me. “Maggie said your summer schedule was insane. That she barely saw you.”

  An awkward silence descends on the table in response to Maggie’s name.

  “What? We’re going to pretend she doesn’t exist anymore?” Brooke asks, glancing down the table at the football team.

  “No one’s pretending she doesn’t exist. But she does live in Alleghany now. She’s literally cheering for their team,” Sam replies.

  “Just to meet new people,” I defend. “And they weren’t being very welcoming, so she could use some support from us.”

  “You were hanging out with Alleghany cheerleaders?” Sam asks in surprise.

  I groan inwardly. “Hanging out is a generous term. I basically just stood there while they gossiped with Maggie.”

  “Anything good?” Brooke asks.

  “One of them was trying to decide whether to stay on the East Coast or move to the West Coast for college,” I reply. “That’s about all I got.”

  “Where was this? At Maggie’s new place?”

  “No. She dragged me to one of their parties,” I admit. This revelation earns me the attention of the entire table.

  “You went to a party in Alleghany this summer?” Matt asks. Shock saturates his voice, along with a hint of betrayal.

  “Sort of,” I reply. “Maggie didn’t tell me where we were going, and then basically dragged me inside. We didn’t stay very long, just talked with some of the cheerleaders.”

  “What was it like?” Brooke asks.

  “Fine. Same as ours are, pretty much.”

  “Was their team there?” Sam questions, but I’m saved from answering when Sarah appears and drops down next to me.

  “First day, and I already have extra assignments,” she groans.

  “No, you volunteered to help Mr. Branner with the extra credit assignment for the freshman,” Brooke corrects. “There’s a difference, Sarah.”

  “No one else offered!” Sarah replies. She glances around the table, most of which is still looking at me. “What did I miss?”

  “Maeve was just filling us in on the Alleghany party she attended,” Brooke supplies.

  “Oh yeah, Maggie mentioned that she dragged you to one at the beginning of the summer,” Sarah says, and I’m thankful for her affirmation regarding my lack of enthusiasm. “She didn’t say much about it aside from talking about Weston Cole. How was it?” The gratefulness disappears as soon as she says his name.

  “Wait, Weston fucking Cole was there?” Brooke exclaims.

  “Yup,” I confirm. It’s not like I can deny it now.

  “How did he look?” Brooke presses. “I’ve never seen him up close.”

  “Seriously, Brooke?” Sam groans. “We’re sitting right here.”

  “No one said you have to eavesdrop on our conversation, Sam,” Brooke snaps. Of course that makes everyone at the table pay even closer attention to it. “Well?” she prompts, looking to me.

  “He, um, he’s attractive,” I finally say. I can feel my cheeks burning.

  Brooke rolls her brown eyes at me. “He’s attractive? I know that much. Come on, Maeve, give me some concrete details.”

  “What do you want to know? His height? Weight?”

  Brooke laughs. “No, I know all that. It’s on the team site.”

  “Still sitting right here and not thrilled to know you cyberstalk Alleghany’s football team,” Sam chimes in with. He looks genuinely miffed, and I wonder if it’s because Brooke’s the one bringing this up. I’ve always suspected he has a thing for her.

  Brooke ignores him and keeps looking at me expectantly.

  “They have photos of all the players on their team site as well,” I say. “So I’m not sure what you’re asking about.”

  “You’ve looked at their team site?” Matt asks me incredulously.

  “I saw it when my dad was checking stats one morning,” I reply, which seems to mollify the football players at the table. Checking out the competition is something they understand, but I was definitely doing so in the more literal sense.

  “So, you’ve seen Weston’s photo?” Brooke asks, still undeterred.

  “Yes,” I sigh.

  “And? Is he just as hot in person?”

  I blame Brooke’s persistence and the fact I spent two hours making out with him last night in the backseat of his car on the next words that come out. “No. He’s hotter.”

  Brooke squeals, and all the guys groan with disgust.

  “Seriously, Maeve?” Sam asks.

  “Better not mention you’re lusting after Cole to Liam,” Matt states, sounding annoyed.

  “I’m not lusting after him,” I lie. “I was just stating a fact.”

  “Whatever. Alleghany leaked his numbers from their preseason scrimmage, and Liam’s even more peeved than usual. Some girl was looking at posts from his birthday party last week in English earlier and I swear I saw steam coming out of Liam’s ears,” Matt replies.

  “Speaking of, did you see those? I get why Liam’s freaked. He doubled his passing yards. In a scrimmage!” Sam interjects.

  “I saw them,” Matt says grimly. “I told Liam about the training rumors, but he didn’t believe me. Our practices are already insane anyway, I don’t think there’s anything else we could be doing.”

  “What training rumors?” Sarah asks.

  “That Cole was training all summer instead of his usual partying and
hooking up.”

  Brooke laughs. “A guy after your own heart, Maeve.”

  I shift awkwardly. If she only knew.

  “I’ll be right back,” I inform my friends. “I forgot my cleats this morning, so I’ve got to call my mom and ask her to bring them.”

  “Why don’t you just text her?” Sarah asks.

  “She’s usually driving between showings,” I reply. “It’s easier just to call.” It’s true, but she always responds to texts quickly. Glenmont doesn’t take long to drive around.

  But I’m not calling my mother. I already texted her.

  I stride over to the far wall of the cafeteria. It’s comprised mostly of glass, allowing for an expansive view of the soccer and baseball fields spread out behind the building. I scuff the toe of my sneaker against a yellowed discoloration in the linoleum as I listen to the phone ring.

  “Hey, Mom,” Wes answers casually.

  “Weird way to answer the phone.”

  “No, I can’t. I have practice until six tonight,” he adds loudly. Lowering his voice, he continues, “Hey, Stevens.”

  “Nice intro.”

  Wes chuckles. “I’m at lunch with the guys. My mom is the only person who calls me like it’s still 1996.” His voice is teasing. “Aren’t you at lunch?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, who did you tell your friends you were calling?”

  “My mom,” I sigh.

  I can practically feel his smugness through the phone. “Huh.”

  I laugh. “It’s worse when you say it over the phone.”

  “Cole! Let’s go!” I hear called through the background.

  “I’ll be right there,” Wes calls back. He lowers his voice again. “So, what’s up? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just–”

  “Hey, Weston,” I hear a girl’s voice in the background. There’s a pause on his end, and I can picture the sexy smirk he’s probably giving her.

  “COLE!” is called again in the background. Loudly.

  “I’ve got to go,” Wes tells me. I think there’s regret in his voice, but I can’t tell for sure.

  “Right. Of course. Bye.” I hang up before he can, faced with another uncomfortable reality. I called Wes for an assurance. Of what, I’m not quite certain. That we still mean something? That it doesn’t matter he’s surrounded with people who hate me and I’m surrounded by people who hate him? That we didn’t always have a set expiration date?