“Okay, Claire. Which one is blue?”
Case stood in the hall, two blue button-downs in his hands. They were a shade apart, but they were both blue.
“You’re good either way,” I answered, returning my attention to unpacking. “Why?”
“Because Riley Cross is hot, and I’m trying to score a date.” He frowned at the shirts, then combined the hangers in one hand. “I need to make sure my outfit is on point. Figured one of these shirts would do the trick.”
I laughed at him. Case had as much chance with Riley as I had with a prince. It wasn’t going to happen, regardless of his wardrobe.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, entering my room. “I saw her watching me mow the other day. She wants my bod.”
“Right, because a riding lawn mower screams sex appeal.” I shook my head and placed a pair of books on my computer desk. “You should try someone else,” I urged. “She’s with Tate. Might be a while before you get a shot.”
“I give it to the end of the semester,” Case answered. “She wants to let go but is too afraid to try something new.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re a dream crusher.”
My phone beeped, and I crossed the fluffy teal rug in the center of the room. On my nightstand, the phone glowed. I frowned at the reminder about our monthly data usage. Almost two weeks and still nothing from Seth. My emotions were shot. I never should’ve sent the text.
“Is it Riley?” Case asked.
“Nope.” I tossed the phone on my comforter and went back to my box.
He watched me, quiet as he fidgeted with the twinkling white lights I had strung across the top of my dresser. He was only this quiet when he wanted something. “So,” he started, his tone too neutral to be good, “Mom told me you wanted to borrow the car. Baker Heights?”
“Is that a real question?” I pulled out a pair of picture frames and caught his judgmental stare. “What? You know how I feel. It’s not like I’ve bottled it up.”
“I get it, but I thought you were making friends.”
“Riley can’t replace my old friends,” I said. “I had a life there, one Mom and Dad ripped away without considering how it would affect me. Nothing makes that okay.” I placed the pictures facedown on my desk. They clanked together, scratching memories of people I’d left behind.
“Claire, I know you want to see him, but I really think—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted. “I know you’re trying to pull the protective little brother card, but I made a deal with Mom and Dad. I’m visiting Baker Heights as soon as I can. If I’m there and I see Seth, I’ll handle it the way I want to handle it.”
“Fine,” he answered, sounding like it was anything but fine. “I think you’re making a mistake, but you do whatever you want.”
His footsteps echoed down the hall. I closed the bedroom door behind him. All I wanted was one more year at Baker Heights. Case didn’t understand. No one did. I lay across my bed, lost in thought.
“Claire!” my mom hollered.
I swiped the back of my hand across my cheeks and cleared my throat. “I’m sleeping!” I replied. My voice left me in a croak, so I cleared my throat again.
“Claire, company!” she said.
“Who?”
Silence.
“Who?” I repeated.
“Claire, company!” she yelled again.
I groaned and dragged myself from the mattress. My reflection stared at me from the large mirror on the far side of my room. My eyes were red and puffy, complemented by tear-stained cheeks. My hair was a mess of brown waves, tangled from being thrown into a ponytail, and my shirt was riddled with paint stains and dust. The shorts I’d stolen from Case were baggy around my waist, doing nothing to improve my appearance. I was a hot mess and in no shape for company.
“Claire!”
“Coming!” I yelled, hauling myself across the room.
Concealer sat inside a small makeup bag on my vanity. I slapped enough under my eyes to cover the puffiness, ran a brush through my hair, and inhaled. When I opened my door, Case sprinted by. He wore one of the blue button-downs and was frantically fastening the buttons.
“She’s here,” he whisper-yelled.
“Who’s here?”
“Riley.” His bedroom door slammed behind him.
I took the stairs to the bottom, hearing Riley’s laugh as I reached the landing. She stood in the foyer with my mom, dressed in shorts, a plaid shirt with sleeves rolled to her elbows, and a pair of brown gladiator sandals. Her blond hair was curled in loose waves that were swept to one shoulder.
“Hey!” she said. “Sorry to barge in. I was in the neighborhood.”
“You’re two houses down,” I answered. “You’re always in the neighborhood.”
“True.” She pointed at the folded shirts in my mom’s hands. “I was delivering this year’s spirit shirts, and your house was the last stop. Since it’s Saturday and I’m free the rest of the day, I thought you might want to hang out. We can do whatever, as long as it isn’t English.”
“Thanks,” I started, “but I’m not feeling too well. Maybe a different—”
“Nonsense,” my mom cut in.
I gawked at her, but she smiled at me with a shameless look of encouragement.
“Go hang out with your friend,” she said. “Unpacking can wait. Those boxes will still be here when you get back.”
I sucked in a breath and shook my head. My mind was on Seth, and I didn’t want to be a pessimistic stick-in-the-mud. Any other day? Okay. Today I couldn’t do it. “I’ll even let you two borrow the car,” my mom said. “Case is here for the day, so it’s not like he’ll need it.” I shot her a look that read stop it, but she ignored me and moved to the hall. “I’ll get you girls the keys. Be right back.”
“Awesome! Thanks, Mrs. Collins.” Riley looked at me, excited. “Meet you outside in ten?”
“Sure,” I answered, not even bothering to sound chipper.
Riley disappeared outside, letting in the afternoon heat through the doorway. My mom returned a few seconds later, almost colliding with Case as he jumped off the bottom of the stairs.
“Point me in her direction,” Case said, smoothing his hair.
“You’re too late.” I snatched the keys from my mom and stalked up the stairs to change.
“Where did she go?!” my mom asked, turning to me.
“She’s outside,” I griped. “And congratulations on meddling mother of the year. You can expect your certificate by the end of the week.”
She frowned, her hands finding her hips. “Claire.”
“Bye, Mom.”
* * *
“We’re here!” Riley said, closing the car door. “Sorry, we stopped and grabbed Sonic.”
The smell of livestock carried on the breeze slanting the overgrown blades of grass around us. The grass scratched my bare ankles as I followed Riley across the yard. Tate stood in front of a crimson-colored barn, with white trim along the doors and a metal roof that gleamed beneath the sweltering sun. He crossed his arms as Riley stopped in front of him.
“I brought Claire,” she pointed out. “Hope that’s okay.”
His brown eyes settled on me, and he shrugged. “I’m cool with it, but I’m not the only one that matters.”
“Adam can get over it,” Riley answered. “If he doesn’t, he can leave.”
“Adam?” I repeated.
“The one and only,” Riley said, motioning at a black Chevy as it rolled through the steel gates at the front of the property. Four-door and streaked with dirt, the truck pulled up to the barn with music so loud it shook the truck from the inside out.
“Speaking of which,” Riley said. “I need to talk to him. He was supposed to let me know which players are helping with Friday’s pep rally and he didn’t.”
“He’s busy.”
“So am I.” She waited until Adam’s dark tennis shoes hit the grass, then asked, “Hey, who’s giving the pep talk at Friday’s pep rally?”
“Hey to you, too.”
He closed the door and crammed the keys in his pocket. He wore black athletic shorts, a gray Pader High practice shirt, and a matching black cap tugged so low it hit the brim of his sunglasses. His jaw clenched as his face tilted my direction.
“Thought it was the three of us,” he said, returning his attention to Riley. “What changed?”
“I was tired of being the only girl,” she answered.
He frowned. “Tate, you okay with this?”
“I don’t care either way,” Tate said. He grabbed one of the barn’s doors and tried to tug it open. When it didn’t budge, he looked at Adam, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Going to stand there and watch me do this, or you feel like making yourself useful?”
“That depends,” Adam snapped. “Are you going to pretend like you forgot to mention her being here?”
Tate straightened. “I didn’t know she was coming. Now, quit being an ass and help me with the damn door.”
I felt like the awkward duck who intruded on a planned event. “I can head out,” I said, turning toward the car. “I need to finish unpacking. Riley, can you catch a ride home with Tate?”
“No.”
Adam joined Tate at the door, still looking pissed. “It’s fine,” he grumbled. “If you leave, Riley will nag us the rest of the afternoon. Not dealing with it.”
“It’s true,” Riley agreed. “You leave, and he’ll wish you would’ve stayed.”
The barn doors slid open, and the boys stepped inside. The smell of hay filled the dry air, but I didn’t see any. There was nothing but a vacant concrete floor, lit by sunlight that streamed through the doors.
“This is where we hold parties,” Riley said, spinning a circle in the middle of the room.
“Victory parties,” Tate added.
He pulled the handle on a door at the back, and it opened onto a storage room with four-wheelers inside. They were lined up in three rows of three. Tate grabbed the keys before pointing at the corresponding vehicles.
“Helmets are one size fits all,” he said. “Don’t get on a four-wheeler without one.”
“Afraid I’ll damage my pretty face?” Adam teased.
“Afraid I’ll damage the coach’s daughter,” Tate replied. He winked at me and found the last four-wheeler in my line.
Adam pulled the shades from his eyes. He stared at me, skeptical. “Doubt she can even work one,” he said. “Collins, need a diagram and step-by-step directions on how to make it go?”
I flipped him off before I realized what I’d done.
“Someone needs to learn manners!” he said, laughing.
“Someone needs to learn to be nice,” I answered.
“Probably.” He traded his hat for a helmet and steered the vehicle toward the door. Riley followed close behind.
Tate looked at me as I mounted the four-wheeler. My hands ran across uneven rubber handles, trying to decide which of two handles was the clutch. “You can ride with Riley,” he offered, tugging a helmet over his curly hair.
“I’ve got it.” I chose a lever, and the four-wheeler thrust forward. “See. No biggie.”
“Suit yourself.”
The four-wheeler hummed to life, the sound of the engine resonating off the barn’s metal walls as I drove toward the front. Riley sat outside the doors, idling as she snapped selfies. She crammed her phone in her back pocket, then pointed at an overgrown field of grass.
A rusted gate, closed with a thick piece of chain, sat between us and the pasture. Adam had rehitched it from the inside. He was already back on his four-wheeler, jumping over mounds in the distance. Tate sped past us and unhitched the gate. Once we were through, he secured the chain and joined Adam.
Riley stared at me behind her helmet. “Think we can speed this up?” she asked. “I can stay with you, but at this rate I’ll be ninety before we make it to the jumps.”
I nodded, and she raced away, throwing up bits of grass as she crossed the field. I was stuck on turtle pace, with no idea how to change the speed. I messed with the clutch, sending the four-wheeler forward in a lurch.
“Hey!” I heard Adam yell.
I turned and spotted Adam’s four-wheeler racing toward me. When he got within a few feet, he turned his vehicle sharp, spraying mud over my helmet, shirt, shorts, and bare legs. I sat on the leather seat, drenched, as I stared at him.
“Geez, Claire. What happened to you?” he asked, coming to a stop. His whole body shook with laughter, making me want to strangle him. “Oh, wait. I know. Me.”
My hands curled around my knees, and my fingernails dug into my skin. He had to be kidding me! “Why did you throw mud on me?! This was a cute outfit!”
“It’s horse water,” Adam clarified, pulling his helmet off and resting it on his lap. He pointed at the large metal trough to our right. My stomach rolled as I took in the frothy puddle around it. “It’s not my fault you were sitting in the spray zone,” he continued. “I needed to turn, and there you were. Oops.”
“Is that what’s on me?” I asked, bile rising in my throat as a bubble popped in the mud. “Tell me you’re joking. You are joking, right?”
“Nope.”
I pulled my helmet off and threw it at him. “You’re such an asshole, Adam! That’s full of bacteria and—”
“You’re covered in it?”
“Yes!” I stared at my dirty legs and cringed. “I can’t handle this. I’m going to vomit.”
“Are you serious?”
I gagged and held up a hand to halt him.
He crammed his helmet on his head and motioned toward the gate. “Ew. Do it out there. I don’t want to drive through your nastiness.”
I inhaled and slowly released my breath. “I’ll get you back,” I said. “This will bite you in the butt, and you’ll be begging for my forgiveness.”
“Really, sweetheart? I’d love to see you try.”
He sped off, and I gagged again. I didn’t know much about Pader, but I was positive about one thing. Adam Meade was a pest. Eventually, I’d squash him.