Chapter 28
My bedroom light cast a harsh glow across my half-finished makeup, my homecoming dress still laid out on my made bed. Outside, Brentwood buzzed with the excitement of Homecoming, but within these walls, I felt like I was in mourning.
Last night, I hadn’t slept at all. Instead, I’d laid in my bed, my Barbie goose to my chest, staring at the ceiling while wondering how much of me had slipped away.
That was the funny thing about slippery slopes. Every compromise, every silent nod, every little piece of myself I thought didn’t matter. Making excuses here and there, little by little, until I didn’t recognize the person I saw in the mirror. Until I hated that reflection.
It felt like I was in the process of waking up from a dream, half lucid, half asleep. I was tossing, turning, my eyes moving behind my lids. I’d fully wake up soon. I wouldn’t let sleep hold me much longer.
“Just get through today,” I told my reflection, staring at my half-finished eyeshadow. The blue shimmer on my lid glittered in the light, causing my light eyes to pop. “Just get through all the homecoming stuff today, then… Then we’ll figure everything out.”
My reflection just blinked.
I heard a car pull into the driveway, and at first, I thought it was someone pulling into Maisie’s driveway, until the door slammed shut, and it sounded like it was right outside my window.
When I peeked out the blinds, sure enough, I found Connor Bray walking up to my porch, stride sure.
He was in his Brentwood Blue football jersey and a pair of jeans, with a determined expression to match.
A second later, there was a firm knock at the door.
I hurried out of my bedroom and fumbled with the lock, pulling it open. “What are you doing here?” I asked him, somewhat self-conscious of my half-done makeup. “Jade’s not here—”
“You honestly think I’m here for Jade?” he asked, though not unkindly. He didn’t comment on my half-finished makeup, either. Instead, he eyed me as if hesitating. “Can I come in?”
“Into my house?”
He arched a brow. “Where else would I mean?”
Honestly, he could’ve said anything else and it would’ve been less surprising. I stumbled back out of shock, and he crossed the threshold easily. Connor toed off his sneakers before facing me. “Can we sit?”
What in the Twilight Zone is going on here? I thought as I led him to the living room, feeling as though I needed to brace myself. And maybe I did.
He sat down on the sofa while I took the chair, fighting the urge to bounce my knee while he looked at his hands.
“Not to be rude,” I began slowly. “But I do have to finish getting ready for the pep rally—which, honestly, you should be getting ready, too.” Even though the boys wore their shoulder pads for the homecoming game, for the rally and the parade, they’d be in suits.
Connor looked at me a little crazily, as if homecoming was the last thing on his mind right now. “I hurt Maisie,” he said somewhat suddenly, the words filled with something like regret. “How can I make it up to her?”
I blinked at the directness. “How—how should I know?”
“She said you used to be best friends.”
Maisie had told him that? “Like, three years ago. I have no idea what she’s like now.” I had no idea why, but the idea of him coming to me with something so important almost left me panicked. “I—I don’t know what’s meaningful to her, what she’d appreciate—”
“She thinks I’m embarrassed to be seen with her,” he explained. “I tried to talk to her this morning, and she thinks I only want to talk to her when no one’s around.”
“Do you?”
“No!” Connor tore his fingers through his brown hair, his distress clear. “God, no. I want to talk to her all the time. I don’t care who sees. But I don’t—I don’t know how to prove it to her.”
Last night, when Connor had remained quiet, I hadn’t realized the depth of his true feelings. I thought he must not have cared about Maisie that much if he could let her go so easily. I shifted on the chair. “Why are you coming to me?”
“Because I know you care about her.” Connor spoke so surely, and it reflected on his expression. “I saw you last night. Crying. And before, when you caught us in Expresso’s, I know you got mad because you were worried. About Maisie. You’re pretty obvious, you know.”
I thought about that day at the bowling alley, Connor’s theatrical tone. What a coincidence, Bobcats. “So are you.”
We both shared a look; not quite a smile, but something close. Before, I’d called us cowards, but that wasn’t exactly true. It was more like we wanted to move in the right direction, but were just too scared enough to go forward. And here Connor was, trying to find his bravery.
“Maisie needs a grand gesture,” I said finally. “She thinks you won’t talk to her in front of other people, so that’s exactly what you have to do. On a grand scale.”
“Grand gesture,” Connor echoed thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on his knee. I watched as he thought it out, and I could almost literally see the gears whirring behind his eyes. This did mean a lot to him—more than I realized. And then it was like a light flicked on. “I can do that.”
I didn’t ask him what he thought it was, mostly because it needed to be his. I could help point him in the right direction, but for it to touch Maisie’s heart, he needed to come up with the specifics on his own. “Aren’t you afraid of what Jade will do?”
“I’m more afraid of losing Maisie.” Connor’s lips lifted into a small smile. “And I guess that’s the thing, isn’t it? You act when you have something worth fighting for.”
More afraid of losing Maisie than of Jade’s wrath. On paper, it sounded crazy. Insane. But sitting across from Connor, seeing how our situations were so similar, I understood him.
I agreed with him.
Somewhere along the way, the fear of losing Logan had eclipsed everything else. Being found out still scared me—but not as much as the thought of losing him. If I were Connor, I would’ve done the same—risked everything, even the Top Tier Queen’s rage, to win Logan back.
But unlike Connor, I had something he didn’t.
The quiet, unshakable belief that I’d have Logan at my side, no matter what came next.
I walked Connor back to the front door, and I could practically see the hope in his steps now. He had an endgame in mind, ready to execute it. “I’ll see you at the parade,” he said when he stepped out onto the porch.
“And I’ve got your back tonight,” I told him seriously. “However you need it.”
Connor nodded his thanks, but still hesitated. “I’m sorry for not saying something about your label. I should’ve. And I should’ve said something about Landon’s.” He gave his head a little shake, lips pressed together. “I don’t think you’ll peak in high school.”
I chuckled a little, giving my nose a little scrunch. “Let’s hope not.”
The stars aligned with Brentwood’s rival game with Jefferson ending up on homecoming. Seriously. Brentwood always got so riled when we faced down the Bulldogs, and the fact that it fell on homecoming—arguably the most school spirited-day of the whole year—it definitely felt something like fate.
Except it was the opposite of fate that I couldn’t manage to find Logan at all before the game started.
Jefferson’s school day was still in session when we had our parade, which meant he hadn’t seen me in my dress yet.
We’d planned to try and meet before the game started, but his coach wouldn’t let him off the field, and too many people surrounded me to gush over how pretty I looked.
Which of course I appreciated, but I really wanted to hear my boyfriend’s opinion.
Before half-time, though, I did have a chance to fulfill a different wish, one I’d been holding onto longer: seeing Logan play football. And my imagination so did not do him justice.
Logan transformed under the football field lights, and it didn’t feel like I was watching the boy who teased me about my coffee order.
It felt like I was watching someone powerful.
Confident. Someone I couldn’t look away from.
When he called the play and took his position, my pulse stirred in my chest, beating louder than the student section’s drumline.
Logan looked so focused, like every piece of him knew exactly what he was doing—and then the snap came, body moving fluidly into the throw. Smooth. Fast. Determined. Hot.
I’d known I liked him before. But now? Watching him under the lights, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, unstoppable grin—yeah. I was gone.
And the half-time buzzer, halting his playing, was super cruel.
“I still think it’s ridiculous that the guys aren’t in their suits for this,” Jade said now, folding her arms across her chest and looking at the football players who’d come straight back to join us behind the bleachers once the scoreboard buzzed.
“I mean, it’s homecoming court. And you’re just in your shoulder pads. ”
Everyone on homecoming court, from freshmen to seniors, all congregated at the back corner of the field, where we were obscured by the opposing team’s bleacher section.
We’d walk straight down the field and stop just in front of Brentwood’s side, so everyone could see us in our full glory.
We waited for the band to finish their fight song, for the cheerleaders to wrap up the final trick, and for the announcer to begin.
Two of the three seniors and two juniors were playing in the game tonight, which meant they didn’t have time to change out of their uniforms. Or, seemingly, wipe the sweat from their brows. “It’s still spirited,” I said. “Especially us, Jade.” I looked at our dresses.