Chapter 28
Ari
By the second quarter, Wade and I have completely abandoned any attempt at acting like responsible adults. We’re packed like sardines into the middle of the students’ section on the bleachers.
“Defense!” Wade cups his hands around his mouth and shouts toward the field as he stomps twice. “Defense!” STOMP! STOMP!
A group of students immediately joins in, and the chant spreads through the entire section of teenagers. Everyone erupts as Autumn Ridge’s defense stops the play on third down. The crowd jumps in celebration.
Including Wade.
Including me.
Including every student packed in the stands.
“Let’s go!” Wade high-fives the kids in front of us, behind us, and two rows ahead of us. Everyone wants a chance to cheer with their cool principal.
I can’t help but laugh and smile as I watch him. There’s something magnetic about Wade when he’s like this.
He’s not Principal Stevenson.
Not the guy everyone calls the town player.
Not the guy my mother keeps insisting is just temporary fun.
He’s Wade. Big personality. Big heart. Big emotions. The guy who remembers that I was in Newsies in sixth grade. The kind of person who was worried about me when I ate too many beets.
The student section starts another chant, this time led by the cheerleaders. Within seconds, we’re both participating like we’re seventeen years old instead of adults running the school.
“What about, what about, what about our colors?” We clap then swing our hips around in a circle, matching the cheerleaders. “Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Maroon! Maroon! Maroon!”
I should probably be embarrassed. Instead, I find myself smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
Mom’s words drift through my head.
Fun.
Like it’s a bad thing. Like fun automatically means irresponsible.
She makes it seem like every man who has made me laugh is destined to break my heart.
But from where I’m standing, I can’t see a single thing wrong with being with the exciting guy.
Maybe fun isn’t the problem. Maybe choosing the wrong person is.
And every day that passes, Wade feels less and less like the wrong person.
I quickly shove that thought away. We’re fake dating. And also, Wade doesn’t do commitment. I’d be wise to remember that.
Suddenly, Wade pushes his way through our row, running down the bleachers.
“What’s he doing?” I ask.
Nobody answers.
Because, apparently, everyone already knows, like this is a tradition they’ve seen from Stevie before. Wade reaches the front railing and turns toward the stands.
He raises both arms. “Wave on me! Wave on three!”
The entire section rises to its feet.
I start laughing before he even begins counting.
The crowd yells with him. “One! Two! Three!”
The wave explodes across the stadium. Students jump up, rolling their arms through the air above their heads. Even people across the field are participating. The motion circles the stadium once, twice, three times before the student section loses its collective mind.
Wade throws both fists into the air in victory, as if he personally invented the wave.
Then he looks straight at me.
And my world stops.
For the life of me, I can't understand why anyone would look at this man and think fun is his downfall. It’s his biggest strength.
It’s just Wade, standing at the bottom of the bleachers with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, and me smiling right back.
Wade
THE GAME has been over for nearly twenty minutes by the time I finally escape the postgame chaos.
Most of the crowd has already filtered out.
The band is packing up their instruments.
Players are scattered across the field in small groups, taking pictures and reliving every big play with their families.
A few parents linger near the track. Teachers sell the last of the concessions.
And I’m looking for Ari.
“Miss Langford!” I call when I finally spot her talking to the Ednas. I nod for her to come join me on the field. A few minutes later (because that’s how long it takes her to extricate herself from the Ednas), we’re standing on the twenty-yard line beneath the stadium lights.
People are still everywhere, but nobody seems particularly concerned that the principal and the English teacher are loitering in the middle of the football field.
“Who can do a better Tom Cruise run?” Ari asks from out of nowhere.
I blink. “A what?”
“You know, Mission Impossible, Tom Cruise. The way he runs.”
“Probably me.” I smirk, trying to tease her.
Without warning, she demonstrates. Arms stiff. Back straight. High knees. Tiny, determined steps.
I immediately start laughing. “That’s not even close.”
“That’s exactly what he looks like. Let’s see you do better.”
“I will.” Now it’s my turn to run like Ethan Hunt, but the results have Ari choking on her laugh. “Does this mean I look terrible and you won?”
“It absolutely does.” She bows dramatically, and when she comes back up, the stadium lights catch her smile in a way that takes my breath away.
Something big settles in my chest—the aha moment that makes me realize this woman is different than all the rest. I mean, I’ve known that about Ari ever since I’ve known her.
It’s why I never dated her in high school.
But now things are different. Now we’re adults, and she’s back in Autumn Ridge, and the feelings feel bigger. But that means so do the stakes.
“You could try racing me, but I’d still probably win.” I love it when her competitive spark comes out to play.
“I’d destroy you.”
“Let’s see.” She points toward the opposite end zone.
“Oh, pumpkin, even with a head start, you don’t stand a chance.”
Her eyes immediately narrow further. “If that’s how you’re going to be, then I’ll take the head start.” She points at the twenty-yard line. “I’ll start here. You can start in the end zone.”
“Twenty yards back?”
Her lips tilt into something flirtatious. “Are you scared?”
“Not in the least.” I jog backward to my starting spot.
“Go!” She takes off before I even get there.
I sprint after her. “Hey!”
Her laughter echoes across the field.
And immediately, I realize two things. One: she cheated. And two: she’s faster than I expected, but still, the distance between us shrinks.
Twenty.
Ten.
Five.
And suddenly, winning doesn’t seem nearly as important as catching her.
I reach her around the forty-yard line on the opposite side of the field.
My arms wrap around her waist. “Got you!”
I lift her clean off the ground, swinging her around with her feet out in front of her.
“Wade!” she squeals, trying to drag her feet on the turf. One shoe gets caught and trips our momentum, and suddenly, we’re both falling.
Ari lands beneath me.
For a second, neither of us moves as the laughter fades. The noise around us disappears. And all I can see is her. Pink cheeks. Heaving chest. Messy brown hair tumbling over her hoodie.
My heart races between us, and despite the brisk air, heat floods through me as our chests move up and down together.
My fingers slide across her forehead, pushing back strands of hair.
Her hands go to my shoulders. The space between us suddenly feels very small in the best way.
Desire pumps into each heartbeat as my eyes drop to her lips.
Dang, I want to kiss her.
Her smile slowly disappears as I force my gaze back to her eyes. She’s looking at me like she’s debating the same thing I am.
I can’t help it; my gaze trails back to her lips, and for one second, I decide to give myself exactly what I want.
“Ahem.” The sound slices through the moment. Sharp and familiar.
I sit up immediately, seeing my dad a few feet away with Mr. Jex beside him. This warrants a swear word or two under my breath.
Dad's expression is unreadable, but Mr. Jex’s expression is not.
“Well,” the superintendent says, “I can see our discussions about you improving your professionalism have fallen on deaf ears.”
Fantastic. Exactly what I needed tonight.
Ari immediately scrambles upright.
I stand too, brushing grass off my jeans. “It’s after school hours.”
“You’re standing—or should I say lying—on the high school football field. Nothing about this is after hours.”
Dad nods once as if he agrees. But it’s the look on his face, the disappointment I’ve seen my whole life from him, that gets me the most.
Jex folds his arms. “Just remember, Wade. People are always watching.”
My chest fills with anger. At my dad. At Mr. Jex. But mostly at myself for doing something so stupid when I know I’m already on thin ice.
Silence takes over as they walk away. But it’s too late. The damage is already done. I feel like a failure, not good enough once again.
“Wade—”
“I know.” I start pacing. “I know exactly how bad that looked.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say. We were just messing around. Surely they know that.”
“Jex already thinks I’m a joke.”
“Wade.”
“I know my dad agrees with him.”
“Wade.”
“I'm trying so hard not to screw this up.” The words come out rougher than intended. “And yet—”
Ari steps directly in front of me. Her hands settle on my shoulders, immediately grounding me. “Look at me.”
I do.
“You are a good principal.”
I laugh bitterly. “Tell Jex that.”
“I don't care what Jex thinks.”
“Unfortunately, half the town and the district do.”
“Who cares about them? Any of them?”
It’s in that moment that it hits me.
I don’t actually care.
Right now, all I care about is what Ari thinks of me.
Every time something goes wrong, I end up here. With her. I don’t know when or how that happened. I only know that somehow Ari Langford has become the person I look for first.
I open my mouth to speak but stop myself when I see Ashtyn over Ari’s shoulder, walking straight toward us with purpose. And suddenly, everything from tonight crashes together.
Dad.
Jex.
My feelings for Ari.
I glance back at her. Confusion swirls behind her stare.
Before I can think better of it, my hands slide to her cheeks.
Her eyes widen, and for one suspended second, neither of us moves.
Then I kiss her.
Quick.
Certain.
Like something bold ignited inside me.
Then reality slams back.
I pull away.
Ari stares at me, completely stunned. Honestly, I probably look the same.
Without a word, I turn and walk in the opposite direction. Away from Ashtyn. Away from the realization that I didn’t kiss Ari because it was part of the fake-dating plan to ward off Ashtyn. I kissed her because, for one reckless second, she was the only thing I wanted.
The only thing that I care about.