Chapter 10
Ari
The weather in Vermont in early September is warm sun, crisp edges, and cooler nights.
Layers matter.
That’s why I bought a new Autumn Ridge High hoodie and a school blanket, specifically to use at sporting events, which seem to be taking over my weekends. Plus, I have my wool gloves and wool beanie. I’m prepared for every temperature.
For the second Friday in a row, I’m headed to a high school football game.
I guess it’s not so bad. What else would I do?
When I had a fiancé, Friday night plans were built into my life. Even staying home wasn’t a big deal, because you were staying home with someone.
But not anymore.
I walk across the parking lot toward Wade.
He’s leaning against a white van with a Autumn Ridge High School logo on the side, looking down at his phone.
One foot is lifted, resting against the tire, while the other holds his weight.
He’s all blue jeans and Carhartt, with a backward baseball hat, and long, lean legs that look too good in his pants.
Can’t say I blame the girls for having a crush on him. He’s way too handsome to be a high school principal. It would make more sense if he were a player’s cool older brother who’s coming to the football game as a supportive fan, not a faculty member.
A smile melts over his lips when he sees me. “There she is!” He pushes off the van, smiling bigger as he glances at the pile in my arms. “Sheesh, woman. It’s not the dead of winter out here.”
“Hot-girl summer is out. I’m having an old-lady fall now. Plus, I don’t like to be cold.”
“You’d never be cold with me around.” There’s a suggestiveness to his expression I need to nip in the bud immediately.
“Wade,” I warn, adding a lift to my chin. “I’m here as a friend. I’m not like the other girls. You can cut the over-the-top flirting. It isn’t necessary and doesn’t work on me.”
Or maybe it works on me too well.
Instead of laughing, like I think he’ll do, he steps forward, gaze holding mine as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
The tip of his finger lightly brushes my cheek and neck—lingering—but there’s nothing light about the chills rippling down my spine.
His voice goes deeper as he lowers the volume to just above a whisper.
“Trust me, I’ve known for years that you’re not like the other girls. ”
What is with the pounding in my chest?
And the ragged breathing I can’t get a grip on.
His arm drops, and his eyes dart to something behind me. “Ladies, are you ready for the big game?”
My chest collapses as a slew of cheerleaders with glittered makeup come into my peripheral vision.
What a complete phony.
Ashtyn glares at me for a brief second before sinking her gaze into Wade. “Coach Sloan says the captains have to ride in her car with her, so it looks like we won’t be able to go to the game together, but I’ll see you there.”
Wade shuffles closer to me, anchoring his arm around my shoulders. “Miss Langford will keep me company.”
I smile innocently back at her, but she just flicks her eyes up and down my body then sniffs out a superior laugh before walking away.
My head whips to Wade. “Did you see that?”
“Yeah, she’s not impressed with you. It might be the fact that you’re dressed like Old Man Winter.”
I use my pile of warmth to push his body away as if I’m mad. “When the sun goes down, I’m not sharing my blanket with you. I don’t care how cold you are.”
“Probably for the best that we don’t share a blanket. You’re not turning out to be an effective fake girlfriend anyway.” There’s a teasing smile, but I still playfully punch him.
“Should we get going?” Sloan Avery, the cheer coach, asks.
“Yeah, let’s load up!” Wade opens the van doors, letting half the squad pile in.
I lean in, speaking low so the girls don’t hear. “You’re lucky Sloan wants the captains to ride in her car so you’re not stuck with Ashtyn.”
“Luck doesn’t have anything to do with it.” He closes the doors, shooting me a silly grin. “I asked her to take the captains. I can’t have anything coming between us on our first date.” Walking around me, he opens the passenger door and holds it for me.
I eye him as I move to climb in. “This isn’t a real date, let alone our first date.”
“It absolutely is the first.”
“I’m sure we went out once or twice in high school. Just as friends.” Even as the words drift out, I can’t recall us together on an actual date—further proof that he was never interested in me.
“Nope, never did. But I like to save the best for last. So it’s all working out.”
The door slams in my face before I can respond.
I don’t know what I’m more hung up on: the fact that Wade never asked me on a date or the fact that he said last as if he doesn’t plan on having any more first dates after me.
But there’s not a shred of truth in that statement.
So I move on, forcing myself to forget he ever said that.
The visitor bleachers are full of parents and students who traveled the half hour to the game because there’s nothing better to do in a small town on a Friday night.
I find a secluded spot to sit at the top so I can lean comfortably against the back.
I haven’t seen Wade in a while. He went to make the rounds and talk to the home team principal.
Who knew school administration was so political?
“Some first date you’ve turned out to be,” I joke as he climbs the stairs to me.
“I know! I’m the worst, but hopefully this makes it up to you.” He swings his arm from behind his back, revealing two hot scones with sides of cinnamon honey butter.
My entire face lights up. “Scones at a high school football game?”
“The band sells them for a fundraiser.” He hands one to me, and I can immediately feel the warmth from the paper plate and smell the cinnamon deliciousness.
“Mmm.” My eyes close as I savor my first bite. “You’re forgiven for being an absentee date.”
“I’ll go get you another one if it means I get a goodnight kiss.”
“I’d have to be remotely attracted to you first, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” I grin at him.
He laughs in his easy way. “Noted.” After a few seconds of eating in silence, he says, “Earlier, you said that you’re being set up left, right, and center. What did you mean by that?”
“Between my mom, Maggie Devens, and the Ednas, it seems like everyone is trying to find me a husband.”
“You’re in trouble if the Ednas are in on it.”
“Tell me about it. They’ve mentioned twice now that they have some new dentist they want to set me up with. Practically cornered me at church. It’s part of the reason I left this place.”
“The Ednas?”
“No,” I laugh, “just everyone in general being too invested in each other’s lives.”
“See, you look at it as a negative thing, but I look at it like connection and caring.”
“Since when is trying to find me a husband labeled as connection and caring?”
“You have to look at the intention behind what they’re doing. Why does everybody think they need to find you a husband?”
I shrug as I drag the corner of my scone through honey butter. “For my mom, she just wants grandchildren. Everyone else is uncomfortable with the fact that my little sister is getting married before me.”
“Are you uncomfortable with it?”
The usual flirty gleam is gone from his eyes, replaced by something real. I blame his realness for answering the question honestly.
“I’m happy for Landrie, but I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little jealous of her.” I tilt my head, rephrasing, “Or at least jealous of how put together her life and future are when I feel like mine are falling apart.”
“That’s not entirely true. Things are looking up for you. You have a great new job.” His shoulder nudges mine. “And a very attractive new boss.”
“Very annoying new boss,” I correct. “Still, it’s not enough to overtake Landrie and Jaxon’s fairy-tale wedding. I wouldn’t be surprised if they left this town for their honeymoon on a float.”
“Were you jealous of Landrie before all the wedding stuff?”
“No,” I answer a little too immediately.
But the truth is, she was always the golden child.
Despite being a few years younger than me, she’s always had a better relationship with my mom.
Conversation comes easily between them. They have more in common, more things to bond over.
I’m just the third wheel, lingering in the background.
It’s hard to compete with that. So I didn’t.
I left nine years ago and never looked back.
“If it makes you feel any better, I like you better than Landrie.”
“You don’t even know Landrie.”
“What are you talking about? We dated for, like, two months. I think I know her well enough.”
I sit up straight. “You dated Landrie?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Like, two years ago.”
My shoulders fall, pushing me into a slouch.
I stare straight ahead, blinking as I try to grapple with the sting of rejection rising in my chest. It shouldn’t hurt this much.
It’s been nine years since I wanted Wade to see me as more than a friend, but for some reason, the wound feels fresh, especially when the thought My sister was good enough for Wade, but I never was keeps circling through my mind, round and round.
Wade looks at me. “I thought you knew.”
“No.” I shake my head, forcing a fake smile. “But why am I even surprised? You’ve dated everyone, right?”
He studies me and the stupid grin on my face. “It wasn’t a big deal. Nothing serious. Just like a summer fling that barely lasted.”
“Still, I bet Jaxon hates that.” I laugh, working hard to act normal. “His best friend having history with his future wife.”
“I don’t think he cares.” His brows lower with concern. “Do you care?”
I shouldn’t. But the knot in my chest isn’t easing up.
“No!” I scoff. “Why would I care?”
“I didn’t think you would.”
The crowd around us cheers, pulling our attention to the game. There was a fumble recovery on the twenty-yard line—a perfect distraction from our present conversation.
I stand up and cheer too, like I’m so invested in the play.
I’m being ridiculous.
If anything, I should be happy about this reminder of old wounds.
If Wade wants to date someone, he does. And he’s never wanted to date me.
All his flirting means nothing. We’re old friends who work together, which is fine since I don’t even like Wade that way.
He’s everything I’ve sworn off in a man—fun and excitement without any real stability. The hurt isn’t really even about him.
It’s just another example of how Landrie is better than me. How everyone in my life prefers her over me. Can’t say I blame them. I love Landrie too.
But just for once, I wish someone would pick me over her. Love me more than they love her.
The referee’s whistle cuts through the field as players jog toward the sidelines for the change of possession. The crowd noise dips into that strange lull that only happens during football games.
I sit back down, pick up my plate, and take another bite of my scone to avoid any relapse in the Wade-dated-Landrie conversation. My heart doesn’t need any more details. I can fill them in all on my own. Probably even will at one in the morning when I can’t sleep.
But as I’m wallowing, the buzzing starts—a sound I’ve learned to never ignore.
A bee hovers directly over the paper plate in my hand.
“Wade.” The tone in my voice makes him look over.
“It’s just a bee. Swat it away.”
“No! That will make it angry, and I’m allergic.”
Another one appears.
Then another.
Then one lands on my hand.
“I think they smell the honey butter,” he says slowly.
“Well, get rid of it!”
“You said not to swat at it.”
“You’re right.” I force a calm breath, even though internally I’m freaking out. “I should just hold still, and they will go away.”
The buzzing gets louder.
One bee dive-bombs my shoulder, causing me to completely abandon the plan.
I shriek, throwing the blanket off my lap as I scramble to my feet on the narrow aluminum bleacher.
An army of bees circles around me. Or maybe it’s just the same three bees diving in and out. Hard to tell when you’re panicking.
Getting out of there is my top priority, but Wade’s planted in front of me like an offensive lineman.
I try leaping over him.
Huge mistake.
The blanket instantly tangles around my other ankle.
My foot slips, and instead of falling backward down the bleachers, I grab his shoulders.
Another mistake.
I land in his lap with my knees lined up on either side of his thighs.
I’m full-on straddling Wade Stevenson in front of half the town and student body.
The bleachers let out a loud metallic BANG from the impact.
Wade’s hands shoot to my waist automatically to steady me.
One might be lower.
Very lower.
His eyes lift to mine.
My hair is in my face.
His baseball cap is crooked.
We’re breathing the exact same air.
And because the next play hasn’t started, the entire stadium has gone weirdly quiet. Every head in the section turns toward us. I can feel their judgmental stares. Hear their collective gasps. Someone even wolf-whistles.
A flash goes off somewhere in the student section, like Polaroids are still in.
Wade blinks once. “Well…this looks bad.”
“Bad?” I hiss. “Your hand is on my butt!”
He immediately withdraws. “There was a lot happening at once.”
Another whistle sounds from the crowd.
One of the popular boys yells, “GET IT, STEVIE!” and the entire student section erupts in laughter.
My chest explodes with embarrassment.
I push off him, scrambling backward so fast the blanket nearly takes me out a second time. Wade grabs my wrist before I roll backward down the bleachers like a bowling ball.
Unfortunately, that only makes things worse.
Because now it looks like Wade is pulling me back into his lap.
The students cheer, feet stomping against the bleachers as they chant, “Stevie! Stevie!”
I push off him again, and it’s a tangle of arms and swinging legs as I try to remove myself from our inappropriate spider position.
“I need to move away. Tonight. Maybe Canada.”
Beside me, Wade stares toward the sidelines with a gloating smile. “Ashtyn definitely saw that.”
Sure enough, Ashtyn stands frozen near the track, pompoms limp at her sides, looking like she wants to set me on fire.
Wade slowly looks back at me. And the idiot—the absolute idiot—grins.
“No, no, no,” I string the words together into one quick protest.
“What?” he asks innocently. “At least the bees left you alone.”
“That face means you’re enjoying this.”
His smile widens as his eyes flick meaningfully toward the crowd of students holding their phones up at us. “I think we just went Instagram official.”