Of course.

“Can you please stop meddling in my life?”

Dad laughs. “It’s cute you asked that, son, but no. It’s my job as a parent to meddle. Without my superior meddling and your mother’s ability to easily guilt the five of you kids, you all would be pantsless, with not a penny to your names.”

I cringe. “Why the hell would we be pantsless?”

“Just paints a better picture, has more of an impact. A mental punch.” He makes a fist and jabs the air.

“Well, I don’t need you meddling, okay? Or your mental . . . punches.”

“But you two were perfect together.”

“Were being the key word, Dad. Things didn’t work out. I was an asshole to Harper; I lost her, and I think we should just let her live her life. I’m sure the last thing she wants is for the Knightly clan to bombard her when she’s trying to settle into a routine here.”

“Nonsense, we should invite her to family dinner on Sunday.”

Eyes just about popping out of my sockets, I nearly spring out of my chair. I lean as close to him as possible, forcing him to look at me. “Dad, for the love of God, do not invite her to family dinner. Please, if you loved me at all, you would not invite her.”

“Here are your biscuits.” Harper sets down a basket along with our water. “Your soup should be out soon. Is there anything else I can get you two?”

Dad eyes me, his features inscrutable. I hold my breath, bracing for the worst.

“I think we’re good, Harper. Thank you.”

Thank Christ.

She moves on to the next table. I exhale loudly and slump in my chair, my bad leg suddenly sending sharp pains up my side. Must be from all the stress and newly chilly weather . . . but mainly stress. Harper at our family dinner would be an absolute disaster. Being in close proximity with all the meddlers would be a nightmare. I can see it now: my mom sitting me next to Harper, Jen constantly bringing up all the fun times we had, my brothers annoyingly dropping my secrets, telling Harper how much I used to talk about her lips, her breasts, her legs. And my dad . . . just like every other time Harper came to family dinner, he would put us on dish duty, which, years ago, only meant one thing: being alone in the kitchen with Harper, filling the silence with talk about anything and everything. But now, there would be only silence, and it would lead to more heartache, the kind of heartache I never want to put on her again.

“Don’t look so relieved.” My dad picks up a biscuit, splits it in half, letting the steam rise from the center before dabbing some butter on the fluffy interior. “I’m not the one you should worry about.”

“What are you talking about?”

He takes a bite and talks while chewing. “Your mother. She’s bound and determined to get you two back together, and I’m pretty sure she has plans to get the whole town involved.”

Fucking hell.

CHAPTER SIX

HARPER

Sophomore Year, High School

“I’m freezing.” Hot chocolate cradled in my hands, I bounce from foot to foot, watching the scoreboard clock count down.

Fourth quarter. Port Snow is up by seven, and there are four minutes left in the game. Thank God. I don’t think I can feel my toes. Everything is numb, although my entire life has felt numb since last week, since I kissed Rogan.

At the beach, when he tempted me, I thought he was joking. We always tease each other, and it’s why I pushed him away, but then when we were walking to my house, I wondered if I’d disappointed him. It was really uncomfortable, a feeling I’ve never had around Rogan before, and it worried me. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I still don’t.

And then something came over me. I’ve always been pretty bold about things, but never that bold. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me, or the way his hands tried to reach out for me but pulled back. Whatever it was, it propelled me forward to press my lips against his. Not only was it my first kiss ever, but it was also with my best friend. Rogan freaking Knightly. And he kissed me back.

I was elated, scared, and thrilled all at once. Confusion raged through me as I tried to decide what to do. After all, I had made the first move, but what came next? Did I push him away? Did I sink into his touch? The last thing I wanted to do was ruin the bond between the two of us; then again, it felt so right, so perfect.

At least that’s what I thought last week. Now? Not so much.

You know that fear I had, that the kiss would change everything? Well, it did. It changed so much. We’re a week into sophomore year, and instead of getting together after his football practices, we haven’t seen each other at all. He’s spent every lunch sitting with his football friends, while I’ve been sitting off to the side with Eve, trying to care about her thoughts on the latest Harry Potter book. In the hallways, there’s been no high-fiving, just quick, tight smiles that have no real meaning to them. And in English, the one class we have together, the anxiety of having him in the desk next to me is almost too much. We haven’t talked, haven’t offered each other Tic Tacs like we usually do. Instead, we stared at the teacher and pretended to listen to what she was saying. At least that’s what I’ve been doing. I have no idea what’s been running through Rogan’s mind.

I wish I did. Does he regret the kiss? Was I too aggressive? Am I a bad kisser? Is that why he hasn’t been talking to me? Is he too embarrassed to tell me that I was an idiot to think he wanted to kiss me?

My stomach churns just thinking about it. And the one person I really want to talk to about my problem, the person I always flush out my anxieties with . . . is the one person I can’t talk to right now. Because he’s the problem. And there is no way I could tell Eve. She’s accused me so many times of looking at Rogan with—as she puts it—googly eyes. She would just say I told you so and offer zero advice.

Do you know what’s even worse, though? Eve is right. This past summer, something changed inside me. Instead of seeing Rogan as my best friend, I’ve been catching glimpses of the man he’s becoming. He grew a few inches and put on so much muscle. His biceps are deliciously strong and chiseled; his shoulders and pecs are unlike anything I’ve seen on any other boy in town, and that roguish smirk of his? It wasn’t teasing anymore; it was sexy.

This past summer I finally came to the realization that I was crushing on my best friend. Crushing hard.

I tried to play it cool whenever we hung out, telling myself I would get over it, but with every passing day, my crush only grew.

Every time he looked at me with those vivid blue eyes, I found myself falling harder and faster. And whenever he pulled me to his side, laughing as we walked down Main Street on our way to get ice cream, I’d find myself wishing that instead of holding my shoulder, he would reach down and hold my hand.

But now everything is messed up, and I don’t know how to fix it.

“Why are we at this game again?” Eve asks, bouncing up and down. “It’s not even regular season.”

Good question. Normally, we’d just be here for Rogan, but it’s complicated now. I’m really here because I miss Rogan and wanted to be able to stare at him without getting caught. And that’s what I’ve done the entire game; I’ve kept my eyes on number thirty-six, never straying away.

I sip my hot chocolate, which has quickly gone lukewarm from the unseasonably cold night. “Because it’s nice to support your friends, and what else were we going to do on a Friday night?”

“I don’t know,” Eve answers sarcastically. “Maybe watch a movie under a pile of blankets while sharing a bowl of popcorn.”

As much as that sounds appealing to my frozen appendages, there is no way my heart would have allowed it. No, my heart wants to be here, in this stadium, watching over Rogan and internally cheering him on even though things are really weird with us right now.

“Think of it as a warm-up for the rest of the season.”

“If this is a warm-up, consider giving me Cliff Notes every Friday night, because there’s no way I can endure this kind of weather all season.”

“Eve, you live in Maine. You should be used to the cold by now. Plus this is Rogan’s first game on the varsity team; he deserves our support.”

“I will never get used to this weather. I’m pretty sure I lived in Florida in another life.” Eve nods toward the middle section of the stadium. “Why aren’t you hanging out with the Knightlys anyway? Isn’t that who you usually watch games with?”

Yup, but given the current state of my relationship with Rogan and not knowing what the hell he’s told his family, I opted to sit as far away as I could.

“Ehh, I didn’t want to intrude on their family night, you know, this being Rogan’s first game on the varsity team and all.”

“Like that has ever mattered.” Eve bounces again. “I’m getting another hot chocolate. Do you want one?”