The heat arrived overnight.

It was 70 degrees when I went to the dining hall for breakfast, and the temperature steadily increased into the low 80s by the afternoon. I'd hoped to feel a breeze when I emerged from the science building after Honors Physics, but only dead heat and Kelsey awaited me.

"Thank god we're wearing white today," Kelsey said as I met her at the bottom of the stone stairs. We both had a free period at the end of the day, and she'd agreed to meet me after her AP US History class so we could review one of our offensive plays. We anticipated Kelsey getting face-guarded during the game, but that didn't make working together impossible. We could outsmart it.

"Seriously," I replied, lifting a hand to shield my eyes from the rays of violent sunlight. Kelsey was both smart and trendy for wearing her black cat-eye sunglasses. "I keep having to check if I've sweat through Trip's jersey."

"I actually wouldn't mind sweating through Grayson Kirby's jersey." Kelsey laughed and glanced down to inspect the jersey. "Anyway, did you and Trip take cute couples photos?"

"This morning, before the heat could ruin my makeup," I answered as I re-tied my ponytail, desperate to keep it off the back of my neck.

"Thank god."

We'd just started down the walkway when someone fell into step beside Kelsey.

"Good luck today," Win said in that smooth and measured way of his. 

I personally found it downright annoying, but I kept my gaze forward, determined to limit my interactions with Win to in-class only. My ego also preferred to dodge any discussion of the Caroline Incident, which he undoubtedly knew about. Everyone with a pulse did.

Macallan and Kelsey had initially thought it was a joke because no way would Caroline Drake have the guts or justification to do what she did outside the dining hall (or at all, for that matter). I'd returned from Trip's dorm room later that night to them demanding how such an idiotic rumor started.

I had to shed a few frustrated tears for them to accept that it wasn't actually a rumor. Caroline had actually said those things to me. Not even the Cannondale gossip sharks could've made that crap up.

Following this unfortunate revelation, they'd demanded to know how they could've missed it, which we'd ruled as an unlucky case of them departing the dining hall before me.

"Thanks! Are you going to watch?" Kelsey's response snapped me out of my internal monologue.

"I am," Win confirmed, "but don't worry, I won't do any obnoxious campaigning on the bleachers."

I couldn't resist side-eyeing him. "How considerate of you."

"I aim to please," he replied and nodded to the approaching fork in the sidewalk. "Well, I've gotta go to AP Lang. I might track you down after the game for the Cannondale Weekly article...Anyway, good luck."

"Okay, see you later!" Kelsey called out after him.

My gaze followed Win as he maintained a fast clip down the sidewalk. He dragged a hand through his hair, and I swore I heard him give a disgruntled sigh.

I'd noticed during class on Monday that his hair wasn't as moppy as it was the previous week—he could arch his eyebrows without them disappearing behind his midnight hair. It made me realize that I'd probably failed to notice how often he would do that to me.

I gritted my teeth and returned my attention to Kelsey. As I did, she slowly slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and regarded me with narrowed eyes.

"What's up with you?"

I bristled. "He said good luck twice."

"Right," Kelsey prolonged the word for dramatic effect. "That's exactly what I thought."

"It's really nothing important," I insisted.

Even in the harsh afternoon light, I could see Kelsey's gaze soften. "You know you can say anything to me, right? Even if it's something you're unsure about."

Her words seemed to linger in the stifling air, and I could feel her gaze subtly drilling into me as we continued our walk to Roosevelt Hall. She had always been perceptive.

Hoping to avoid making an awkward disclaimer, I said, "It's not what you think." .

Kelsey nodded, but held her silence.

Realizing she was waiting for me to explain, I allowed myself a few moments to gather my thoughts. Aside from a brief conversation with Gianna during one of Macallan's campaign meetings, I'd never vocalized my opinions on this subject. A part of me wondered why it had taken me so long to arrive at this point, but I figured the answer had at least something to do with that awkward disclaimer. My brain cells didn't deserve to dwell on it.

With that in mind, I took a deep breath and said, "I never understood why Win became so invested in Macallan's campaign, but I first started questioning his...let's call it his motive, when he asked her to write an opinion piece for the Cannondale Weekly."

"That was after the first post appeared on the message board. Gianna's post, right?" Kelsey clarified.

I nodded, recalling how I'd shoved Win against an ivy-covered wall and accused him of using Macallan's misfortunes to gain more readers for the newspaper. What a time that was.

"So at first, I thought he wanted attention for the Cannondale Weekly, but that changed when he became Macallan's campaign manager or whatever pompous title he likes to use for himself. As much as I didn't want to believe it, I couldn't deny his commitment to her campaign...but I still didn't understand why." I grimaced, and my gaze momentarily dropped to the ground. "I mean, I even entertained the idea of him being in love with her."

"Oh, he's not in love with Macallan."

"I didn't say it was a good idea," I defended. "Anyway, I eventually couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stop thinking about it. So after one of the campaign meetings, I followed him into the boys' locker room to interrogate him."

Kelsey gawked at me. "Oh my god, Chan. You didn't."

"But I did."

"Wow. I didn't see that one coming, but I'm very much here for it." Kelsey grinned and appeared to reorganize her thoughts before firing off a few rapid-fire questions, "So what happened? What did you say? What did he say? And don't hold back. This is like a midday soap opera."

I surrendered a grin; at least I could offer some comedic relief. "If I remember correctly, I said he had really started to act like Macallan Blake's fairy godfather."

"That's adorable." Kelsey snorted as she scanned us into Roosevelt Hall. We paused to relish in the blast of air conditioning before beginning the trek up to the third floor.

I chose not to comment on Kelsey's response and said, "So that was essentially my segue into wanting to know why he was so fixated on helping Macallan's campaign." I paused to swallow a peculiar lump in my throat. "And aside from telling me that he genuinely believes Macallan is the best candidate—which she is—he made me feel insane for thinking  he was up to something. Which, by the way, he was."

"So, what you're saying is that Win has been gaslighting you for months?"

"I hate that word." I rolled my eyes but then mulled over everything I'd just told Kelsey. For the sake of brevity, I grumbled, "Though perhaps that word does work in this context."

"Well, even if it isn't the best word to use, I understand why you're upset or annoyed, Chan." Kelsey offered me a soft smile. "You trusted Win, and he betrayed that trust."

My cheeks prickled. "That sounds about right," I admitted. Perhaps I'd overcomplicated things in my head.

We finally reached the third floor, and I was breathing harder than usual when I collapsed onto my bed. I blamed the heat and the monologue I'd just delivered.

I heard Kelsey settle onto her bed, the mattress creaking softly. "So I assume you don't want to revisit your...dispute with Caroline Drake, but was that about Win?"

"Partially," I sighed out and fought the impulse to scream into my pillow. "I refused to talk to him at dinner that night, but I think Caroline wanted to say those things for a while now."

"But that doesn't mean she should've or that you deserved it."

I shift onto my side to face Kelsey. Even though I was looking at her sideways, the sincerity etched onto her features was as clear as day.

"You really think so?" I asked.

"Of course, don't be silly. Also, I'd totally tell you if you deserved it."

I smiled softly. "Thanks, Kelsey."

"Anytime. Now, let's take a 20-minute power nap before we review our playbook so we can kick ass later."

✘ ✘ ✘

I'd always liked our Home uniforms.

The crisp white jersey had Cannondale emblazoned in royal blue scrip across the chest, with #16 printed below, and the matching white skirt had the school crest on the bottom of the front left side. My sports bra and spandex were also white. I liked that everything matched, right down to my white Nike turf shoes and crew socks.

It made me feel put-together and simultaneously badass.

I was put-together and badass. 

After sufficiently admiring myself in the mirror, I ran a comb through my hair and turned around to face Kelsey. She'd also changed into her uniform and now sat on her yoga mat, using a muscle roller on her left quad.

"I'm going to go meet Trip at the athletic facility to return his jersey," I said. "I told him I'd wash it for him, but he said something about being attached to his detergent. What a weirdo."

"He's probably superstitious," Kelsey replied as she switched to her right quad. "A lot of people are about their jerseys and whatnot."

"Trip's not the superstitious type of guy."

"Then what kind of guy is he?" Kelsey asked, sounding genuinely curious.

I set my comb on my desk and faced her. "The kind who doesn't like other people doing things on his behalf because he values routine and autonomy."

She whistled. "That's deep."

"I suppose," I extended the word as I stepped into my athletic slides. "Anyway, I'll meet you in the team room in an hour or so."

"Sweet. When's the boys' game again?"

"Not until 7:00, so they can stay for most of ours."

"They should join our parents' cheer squad. My dad's probably going to lose his voice tonight."

I smirked as I shouldered my lacrosse backpack. "He's slacking if he doesn't."

Kelsey chuckled. "I'll tell him you said that."

"Good, see you soon." I snatched my lacrosse stick and saw myself out of the building. The air felt just as hot as it did 40 minutes ago, but it didn't bother me as much now that I had pre-game adrenaline coursing through my veins.

An internal switch had flipped in my mind, amplifying the focused and competitive side of my personality. I was ready to play—ready to win. Nothing could derail my mindset.

As I approached the athletic facility, I texted Trip to let him know that I'd be there soon. His response arrived almost immediately.

TRIP MCKENNA, 2:40 PM: I'm in the team room, but I'll meet you down in the lobby in 5

I stared at the text and at the time. The final bell wouldn't ring for another ten minutes so campus was still relatively quiet, and the athletic faculty should be too. I decided I had the time and the nerve to meet Trip in the boys' lacrosse team room. After all, I'd done it before.

I dropped off my gear in the team room before heading down the hall to the boys' locker room. It had multiple entrances, much like the girls' locker room, and resembled a small labyrinth. I slipped into the entrance closest to its lacrosse team room, which I'd clocked when I failed to ambush Win.

I'd already taken Trip's jersey out of my backpack in case I ran into someone who knew I had no legitimate business entering the boys' locker room. While returning his jersey probably didn't provide me with immunity, I figured I'd receive some slack or an eye roll for being Trip McKenna's lovesick girlfriend.

I was passing the last alcove of lockers before the entrance to the team room when a voice that didn't belong to Trip carried out of its open door.

"Do you know what happened?" Grayson asked.

I froze, my heart hiccuping.

"Yeah," Trip confirmed without missing a beat.

"But you're not going to tell me, are you?"

"I promised Chandler I wouldn't say anything."

In the pause that followed, I hurtled myself into the alcove. The cold steel of the lockers seemed to seep into the back of my legs as I stood stiff as a board against them, ensuring I remained out of sight but still within earshot of their conversation. I had no doubts concerning the topic of their discussion—Grayson was asking Trip about what happened with Gianna Lash.

"That's exactly what Jameson said about Macallan, and I can respect that," Grayson said.

"Thanks. I gotta go meet–"

"But now I'm going to say something that I didn't say to Jameson, and it's something you won't want to hear," Grayson interrupted.

Trip groaned. "Grayson–"

"Sit your ass back down, McKenna," Grayson interrupted again, and the firmness of his voice caught me off guard. I'd never heard anyone speak to Trip like that. "We're on our way out of here. We've got one more month at this school—one more month—and that's it. We're out of Boston. Out of New England. So there's no reason to have any baggage."

"Don't be like that." I could almost hear Trip roll his eyes. "She's my girlfriend."

"I'm relieved to hear that she hasn't forced you to elope."

"You and Jameson need to stop." Trip sounded more irritated than taken aback by Grayson's remark. If anything, he sounded like he'd had some variation of this conversation before. "I never should have said anything after the cookout. This is my relationship, and I don't need you or anyone else weighing in. I've got it figured out for now."

Suddenly aware of the tightness in my chest, I inhaled deeply. I'd forgotten to breathe, my mind entirely preoccupied by the ongoing conversation. I clasped a hand to my chest, willing my heart rate to slow down. It was beating so fiercely that I could practically feel it in my mouth.

"Come on, Trip," Grayson was practically pleading with him. "You don't need to admit it to me, but at least admit it to yourself that Chandler's no angel. She's constantly stirring up shit and picking fights. She's a bully."

Trip groaned. "Jesus Christ, Grayson. Stop exaggerating. Stop talking about her. Stop talking to me."

"Only if you stop making excuses," Grayson fired back. "I may not know all of the shitty details, but I know enough to believe that Chandler led the charge to excommunicate Gianna."

"Quit using that word. Everyone is using that word." The edge in Trip's voice amplified his irritation, which sent sick relief rippling through me.

Trip needed to be irritated with Grayson. He needed to stand up for me. It was only a matter of time before he did.

"Alright, alright," Grayson huffed out. "Chandler banished Gianna. Does that please the court?"

"I'm not going to have this conversation with you unless you get serious about what you actually want to say to me," Trip said, the edge in his voice suddenly razor-sharp.

"Fine. Have it your way," Grayson conceded. "Is this how you want to spend your last month of high school? Enduring this painful back-and-forth with your girlfriend and standing by as she shits on other people? Hell, I know you heard about her argument with Caroline Drake. I didn't even know that girl's name until someone told me she called Chandler out for her misunderstood, cool girl act. That took guts."

"Chandler didn't start that conversation."

"Maybe not, but I'd bet my spot on the Princeton lacrosse team that she gave Caroline more than one reason to call her out whatever that really immature, bitch move was." Grayson's bitter laugh seemed to ricochet off the lockers. "Like, when does this end? Chandler England is going to drag you right down to the bottom."

"Alright, that's enough!" I flinched as Trip raised his voice for the first time in their conversation. "I don't want to talk about this."

"That's not how you felt at the cookout," Grayson lowered his voice considerably. "You said you wanted to–"

"I changed my mind. That's not a crime," Trip interrupted, and something slammed against a locker. It sounded like an open hand.

I waited for Trip to continue, to refute any of Grayson's claims, but he didn't. My knees went weak.

In the silence that followed, I slid down to the floor and clutched Trip's jersey so tightly that my nails pressed against the fabric to dig into my palms.

"Alright. It's whatever you want to believe, Trip." The sharp sound of a locker shutting prompted me to flinch. "I gotta go track down Kelsey before their game. I wouldn't be surprised if she vandalized my jersey."

"I'll catch up with you later," Trip said, his voice strikingly hollow.

"Bet. Text me." Grayson's voice was much closer than it was moments earlier.

Before I could panic, his footsteps continued in the opposite direction.

Trip left the same way less than a minute later, but not before slamming a locker shut. The sound seemed to linger in my ears, but that was the least of my problems.

My world no longer spun on its axis.

Heart pounding, I shut my eyes as my mind started to play a game of fill-in-the-blank with Grayson's penultimate sentence that Trip had interrupted.

You said you wanted to...

The game lasted one round.

My eyes snapped open, but my vision blurred at the edges. 

Maybe I could blame my insecurity, but my intuition told me otherwise. I knew with resounding clarity what Grayson had meant to say to Trip.

You said you wanted to break up with her.

As that sentence echoed through my mind, my soul splintered into a million jaded pieces.

Angel or not, I clearly never stood a chance against Trip McKenna.

✘ ✘ ✘

this is one of those chapters in which letting me know your thoughts is very much appreciated (in words or emojis).

thank you for 38K reads 😇