On Saturday morning, Trip McKenna ruined Scrabble for me. The competitiveness that permanently flowed through my bloodstream prevented me from backing down, but Trip was one triple-word score away from me shoving the board off of my duvet and refusing to play the game ever again.

"It's over, Chandler," Trip said, eyeing me from over the top of his glasses. "You can't win."

"Just give me another second." I bit the inside of my cheek as I evaluated the board between us. My Dad hadn't raised a quitter. 

"Even if I gave you the rest of the day, it still wouldn't make a difference."

When I looked up to glare at Trip, I almost had to squint. The sunlight streaming through the window behind him warmed his brown hair, casting a halo of gold around his head. Even the sun seemed to set him apart, shining a better, brighter light on him than everyone else. I didn't want to look at anything or anyone now that I'd seen him.

Kelsey snorted from where she stood at her desk, organizing her backpack for a trip to the library. "I can't decide if this is cute or dorky."

"This is Chandler deciding whether she wants to kick me out or not," Trip said.

"Hey, I am not a sore loser," I protested lightly.

Now Trip was smiling at me, and it was hard to feel bitter when he did that. "Our last game suggests otherwise."

"Maybe I will kick you out." I shoved his knee and he caught my hand before I could pull it away. His two silver rings gleamed in the light.

"What time is Mac free from her mandatory penance?" Kelsey asked as she yanked on her left Dr. Martin.

I smirked at Kelsey's use of Macallan's preferred title for her weekly detentions. "Probably around 2:00. She had to split right after our ACT practice test ended."

She groaned. "That's brutal."

Trip squeezed my hand. "Your ACT is in April, right?"

I nodded as I started to gently spin the ring on his pointer finger. "Third time's the charm. I breezed through the math section today."

I wasn't exaggerating. I'd answered every question and had time remaining to double-check the problems I starred in my booklet. The minute I received my score tomorrow, I'd inform Dallas Gunther that I didn't need his help. Besides, I would've just been a distraction for him.

"Thank god UVA is happy with my 29," Kelsey said, shrugging on a pink bomber jacket over her Goth Babe sweatshirt. Boston was still emotionally attached to winter in March. "I don't think I could've survived another one."

UVA was a prestigious state university, but it tended to offer some academic leniency to its DI athletes. The same could be said for other DI universities, even those in the Ivy League. But even if UVA had higher expectations, Kelsey wouldn't have a problem exceeding them. She'd been on the high honor roll with me since our first term at Cannondale.

I stopped spinning Trip's ring, met his eyes. "You only took the ACT once."

It wasn't a question.

His lips lifted in a hint of a smirk as he nodded. "My score was good enough the first time around."

"There's no need to be humble," I teased, dropping his hand to build off of a preexisting word.

"Would you prefer unadulterated arrogance? Is that your thing, Chandler?"

"I don't have a thing."

"Uh-huh."

Trip took his next turn in a handful of seconds, and I exhaled a dejected sigh. That Z double-letter score officially ruined my chances of staging a comeback.

"Alright, I'm out of here," Kelsey called from the doorway. "My Catch-22 essay needs me."

"Enjoy," I waved.

Trip sent her a nod. "Good luck."

The moment the door shut behind Kelsey, I scrambled the tiles on the board with a single sweep of my hand.

Trip stifled a laugh. "What were you saying about not being a sore loser?"

"Oh, you still wanted to play Scrabble?" I countered.

An auspicious pause followed my words. It was the kind that took forever and no time at all.

My eyes fluttered shut when Trip leaned in to press a kiss to my lips, and a soft sigh escaped me a moment later. As he pulled me closer to him at the top of the bed, I didn't hesitate to wrap my legs around his hips and run my fingers through his hair. My feelings careened through whatever emotional traffic lights that might have stopped them from running the red. I wouldn't know if I'd taken a wrong turn even if I had a map. But I didn't need to be brave or ambivalent or someone who second-guessed their every move. Not with Trip.

Scrabble tiles littered my duvet like confetti.

"Did you think I'd just let you win?" Trip asked, gently pushing me onto my back with his elbows propped up on either side of my head. "Or did you think you were better and would beat me?"

"Maybe both," I admitted, my lips brushing against his as I spoke.

I felt him smile more than I saw it as he began to trail kisses along my jaw and down my neck.

"You've got a Q in your hair, Chandler."

I gave a breathless laugh, but I was too focused on Trip's fingers drifting up and down my sides to respond. Instead, I pulled him back up to me and kissed him, tender and sweet - two characteristics I didn't usually associate with myself.

I had a hand resting at the back of his neck when we pulled away. Trip shifted onto one elbow and brought up his free hand to brush back a stray lock of hair from my face. His fingertips lingered on my cheek, setting off little fireworks inside my rib cage.

"We've kissed in a coat closet, but we haven't gone out," he told me.

I wrinkled my nose to refrain from grinning. "You've got to let go of the coat closet thing."

"No."

I lightly shoved him onto his back and straddled his waist with my hands on his shoulders. There was a spark in his eyes as I removed his glasses and leaned over to the side, carefully setting them down on the desk.

"So, where's there to go out?" I asked.

"We could sign out on a Sunday and go downtown."

"I've got a DIII showcase next weekend, so can we shoot for the next?"

"We can shoot for the next."

It was a few more minutes and multiple discarded articles of clothing later when we were subtly interrupted. Trip's phone had started vibrating on the desk, and I preferred not to be distracted from the hand that had slid past my hip and was between my thighs.

"Your phone, Trip."

"Sorry," he groaned, leaning his forehead against my bare shoulder. "I thought I had the damn thing on silent."

I trailed my fingers down his back as he lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine. "You should check it. What if it's someone and something more important than me?"

"It's not. The lacrosse group chat is always blowing up for no reason."

"Well, check it just in case, and then put it on silent." I found the waistband of his boxer briefs, tracing the stitching of the soft cotton. "You're busy."

Trip let out an uneven breath before kissing the tip of my nose and shifting upright to retrieve his phone. I closed my eyes for a moment, content and at ease, even with a letter tile digging into my shoulder blade. I eventually returned my attention to Trip. A wrinkle had formed between his brows as his gaze remained locked on the screen, sliding his thumb down it as he seemed to read through something.

I dropped a soft kiss on his spine. "Everything okay?"

I saw the movement in his throat, the effort he was making to articulate whatever needed to be said. "There's something you need to see," he finally started. "One of the guys sent a link to that message board in the group chat. It's about the girls' varsity lacrosse team."

My blood ran cold. The sunlight spilling onto the bed no longer seemed to hold that golden warmth. There hadn't been any new comments on that message board thread in over a week, but that hadn't discouraged people from gossiping about it. That also hadn't prevented Macallan from carrying the magnitude of those words with her wherever she went.

"Okay," I heard myself say.

My mind was already operating in overdrive, dreaming up too many scenarios of what I'd see on the message board. What Trip had already seen. There was only one way for me to find out.

I fished my discarded tank top from a pool of letter tiles on the duvet and slipped it on as I moved to sit beside Trip at the edge of the bed. He offered up his phone, and I accepted it with steady hands. Maybe if I wasn't me, they might not have been. For a moment, I didn't look down at the phone. I kept my gaze locked on Trip's and decided that I needed to anchor my composure. I needed Trip to be my anchor.

"Can you stay?"

"I'm staying."

Despite being on razor-sharp edge, I offered him a faint smile. Trip curled his fingers around mine, and I started to read. 

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WHICH INFAMOUS CANNONDALE LACROSSE GIRL ARE YOU?

1. when i'm not playing lacrosse, you can find me

a) serving mandatory detention

b) in the athletic director's office trying to assert my authority

c) sucking up to my new fake friends

d) hating on Guys With Ties

e) seeking psychiatric help for mommy issues

2. which of the following best describes you?

a) a captain resigned to being overshadowed

b) the silver to your best friends' gold

c) acting mean to be cool as a defense mechanism

d) rich girl masquerading as a down-to-earth hippie

e) a desperate conformist vying for validation

3. you know I come from money because

a) half of my instagram posts are from my ski house in vermont

b) my parents might as well be meredith grey and derek shepherd

c) i wear chanel suits

d) both of my parents went to yale

e) i'm a self-proclaimed style icon who never repeats my outfits

4. i hate being objectified but love it when you tell me

a) i'm good at seducing older guys

b) my cheekbones could cut a bitch

c) that i look like a Barbie doll

d) i'm not like other girls

e) i'll be Cannondale's hottest valedictorian

[select continue for additional questions]

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august is the month of 20/20 foresight and consistently reminding myself that i'm moving to london in september

anyway, ☆ vote ☆ or drop a comment if you're enjoying this story, it's mega appreciated