Nine
SENIOR YEAR
I never make it down to the football field to meet Joel. By the time Meredith and I end our mess of a conversation in the courtyard, there are only two minutes left until the first bell. I send him a text asking if we can reschedule, but when he still hasn’t answered by the start of lunch, I check my message to make sure I wrote actual words, since I was so rattled that I can’t be sure.
“Hey,” Noah says, sidling up to me as everyone is filing back into the school.
We’ve finished up lunch outdoors, and the promise of fall is in the air—which really just means that stepping outside of an air-conditioned building no longer feels like venturing onto the surface of the sun. Real autumn weather is still at least a few weeks away, but for now I’m enjoying the warmth on the back of my neck that would’ve burned me to a lobster-red crisp up until a few days ago.
“Hey yourself.” I catch sight of myself in his aviator sunglasses, and I hate that I look a little unnerved.
“So it sucks that the flag hunt was canceled,” he says. “I was kind of looking forward to it.”
“I’m sure Meredith will reschedule it. No way she’ll let it get sacked two years in a row.”
I look up at that second to see Jadie and Tyrell walking parallel to us a few feet away. Jadie’s stare is fixed on me as if to say, Are you seriously sharing your personal bubble with another Pirate right now?
I pretend not to notice.
“What happened last year?” Noah asks.
I stifle a snort. “A few of the girls wanted to change things up and try new team-building exercises. So we voted the hunt down in favor of something else, and Meredith was not happy. But now that she’s the senior captain, it’s back.”
Noah pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head. “It’s weird to hear you say ‘we’ when you talk about the cheerleaders. I know you were on the squad for a long time, but it’s hard to picture you waving pom-poms when I’m used to seeing you with that thing”—he motions to my camera—“hanging around your neck all the time. You carry it around like it’s your kid.”
I finger the edge of the lens. It might not share my DNA, but this camera has definitely become part of me. I lift it to my face and snap a picture of Noah. “You never know when you’ll need to capture a moment.”
He smiles, but holds up his hand to mock shield his face. “Let’s keep this off the record. Then you can tell me the real reason why I need a bathing suit for the flag hunt.”
“What do you mean, ‘the real reason’? Everyone goes swimming in the waterfall afterward.”
He makes a face, and I can understand why he’s confused. Old Mill is a park built around the ruins of a Civil War–era manufacturing mill that burned down in the 1800s. The creek alongside it was dammed in order to use the water for power, and the result was a gorgeous waterfall that looks like it should be tucked between picturesque mountains, not around the corner from a main drag in the suburbs of Atlanta.
When I tell Noah as much, he stops walking. “Wait, is this the park near that country club? The Mill Club, or whatever?”
“Yep. Have you been there?”
“Nah, but I’ve heard of it. At least now I know it’s not some kind of prank. Like, tell the new kid to bring a bathing suit, and then hang it from a branch while he’s bare-assed and covering his junk with a rock.”
I really wish he hadn’t said that. Because now I am definitely picturing him naked.
“Um, no,” I say, shaking the image out of my head as we approach my locker. “No one ends up naked. Unless they want to.” OH MY GOD. A flush of heat crawls up my neck, burning hotter and faster when a roguish smile spreads across Noah’s face. “I mean—I meant—no one’s ever stolen someone’s bathing suit. At least not that I know of.” My face is so hot that I’m convinced wisps of smoke must be rising from the top of my head.
My phone vibrates in my bag, and I fumble for it, grateful to have somewhere else to look. Until I see that Jadie has texted me a picture of herself with a mock stern look on her face. She’s pointing two fingers at her eyes, and then a second photo pops up of her making the same motion toward the camera, as if to say, I’ve got my eyes on you. Beneath it is the caption: FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS CHASE PIRATE BOOTY!
As I’m reading it, a second text pops up: TWICE.
I clear the screen before Noah can see, though I’m not sure he even has a chance, since a couple of football players walk by and nod at him at that moment. It’s crazy to me how smooth Noah’s transition from Mortonville Pirate to Ridgedale Raven has been, at least in comparison with Joel’s. Maybe no one’s willing to test Noah’s take-no-shit vibe, or maybe the novelty of a Pirate on Raven turf has started to wear off. Either way, Noah’s arrival hasn’t brought a fraction of the drama that Joel’s did.
So far. But I have a tendency to speak too soon, and that’s the exact moment when Joel walks by.
“Mace,” he says. “Can we regroup after school tomorrow? I have to work tonight.”
I wonder why he’d phrase the question in such a dodgy, nonspecific way, until I see him eyeing Noah and realize Joel must not want him to know what we’re going to do. Even if it’s only having a conversation. Which is weird, but I’ve noticed friction between them before, and I get the feeling it has some pretty deep roots.
“Do you purposely wait until you see us talking to come up and start bothering her?” Noah says, giving Joel an acidic once-over.
“Because what, you own her?” Joel shoots back. “You don’t need to act like a caveman just because you have the hair, you know.”
A muscle in Noah’s jaw twitches. “Fuck off, Hargrove.”
“Guys, stop,” I cut in, holding up my hands like that would actually prevent them from pummeling each other. I look at Joel. “After school tomorrow is fine.”
“Sounds good.” His gaze cuts right back to Noah. “You’re the one who needs to fuck off. Right back to where you came from.”
Noah doesn’t flinch under Joel’s glare. He stretches an arm toward the hall, glowering right back at him. “After you.”
I slam my locker and grab Noah’s outstretched hand before the sparks in Joel’s eyes can set something on fire. “No one’s going anywhere, except to class,” I say, tugging Noah away from my locker. “Let’s walk. Joel, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah,” he says, still scowling at Noah. “Later.”
“What was that about?” I ask as we head toward the science wing. I try to drop his hand, but he doesn’t let go. So now I’m walking down the hall awkwardly holding hands with Noah Granger two minutes after seeing him naked in my head.
“Hargrove’s a prick.” He side-eyes me. “But I get the feeling you don’t need me to tell you that.”
“What was your first clue?” I’m asking how he knows about my history with Joel, given that he didn’t go to school here last year, but he must think I’m referring to whatever beef the two of them obviously have, because he says, “I’ve known him a long time.”
“And did you learn that lesson the hard way, or have you always hated him?”
“Mostly column A. Watch your step around him. He can be pretty heartless.”
Don’t I know it. But before I can harp on it, Noah stops walking and pulls me into an exit alcove. “Listen, back to what we were talking about before. Why don’t you and I go over to Old Mill after school? I was going to say tomorrow, but—” He throws an annoyed look in the direction of where we left Joel.
I’m about to tell him I can’t because I have cheerleading practice, until I remember it’s a knee-jerk response that’s no longer true. So instead I say, “Don’t you have football practice?”
“We can go afterward,” he says with a shrug. “My knee’s not up to snuff yet, so I’ll probably cut out early anyway. You can give me a tour of the park. That way if the hunt’s rescheduled, I won’t be wandering around like a blind dog.” He glances out into the hallway like he’s half expecting Joel to reappear, then turns back to me with a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. “And maybe you and I can finally have a conversation without being interrupted. There’s something I want to talk to you about anyway.”
My pulse picks up speed. My first thought is that he’s going to confess to kissing me. But if that’s the case, I want to know now.
“What is it?”
“Nothing that can’t wait. So what do you say? Is it a date?”
Alarms start flashing in my head, telling me I need to find some way to say no. That saying yes is the first step down a road where I already crashed and burned last year. I hold up my brace-bound hand. “I can’t really swim” is the best I can come up with.
Noah flashes a grin. “There are ways around that. Text me your address, and I’ll pick you up at four?”
“I—okay.” I’m still nodding dumbly as I watch his back retreat down the hall, knowing I might’ve just done something supremely stupid. But when he looks at me over his shoulder and smiles before disappearing around the corner, I have to wonder if this time it might be worth it.