Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,1
some tragically hip but perfectly rhythmic song.
It was completely annoying.
The space underneath the bleachers was usually the best place at William McKinley High School to have a private conversation. CJ couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about cross-country practice when she suggested that she and her three best friends meet there after school. “Maybe we should go somewhere else,” she said. Up until this year, CJ had been on the team too. She’d never been a particularly strong runner, and she reminded herself that quitting made sense. She needed the time in her schedule to study for her SATs. (Another thing she wasn’t particularly strong at.) Still, it was weird and maybe even a little sad to watch her old team practice without her. “We could try the library. Or that spot behind the cafeteria dumpsters.”
Martha looked at the time on her phone. “I have to be in the car in five minutes. Not walking toward it. In it.” CJ didn’t hold it against her for being in a hurry. Martha was the only one with an after-school job. She was also the only one without a car, so she looked desperately to Ava, who had agreed to give her a ride. “Please tell CJ it’s safe to talk here.”
Ava shrugged. “It’s totally fine. Literally nobody can hear us.”
This prompted Jordan to look up from her phone. “That is literally not even remotely how you use the word ‘literally.’” She closed out of Snapchat and opened Instagram. Earlier that day she’d posted a photo of herself in her new ’50s-style midi dress with the “J” for Jordan embroidered on the pocket in a shade of purple that perfectly matched the stripes of color running through her hair. CJ was more of a “jeans and T-shirt” kind of girl and didn’t totally get Jordan’s look, but she’d clicked on the little heart next to the post and left a comment. Because that’s what you do when one of your best friends is trying to boost her social media following. “Ava has a point, though. Literally. Nobody.”
Martha looked at the time. “Four minutes. I have four minutes.”
Jordan put her phone away. “So, tonight, who’s going to drive and who’s going to bring… wait. What do we even need to bring?”
They all traded looks and shrugs. None of them had ever done anything like this before.
“Something sharp, I guess,” CJ finally said.
“I’ll handle that,” said Ava. “But how sharp are we talking?”
As they debated just how sharp of a sharp object Ava should bring, a loud whoop came from the track behind them. They all turned to see that Logan Diffenderfer had just crossed the finish line. As he slowed to a walk, catching his breath in big heaping gulps, he pumped his fist triumphantly into the air and let out another whoop. CJ felt a pang of jealousy. She missed that feeling of crossing the finish line in a flurry of relief and excitement. She watched as her old cross-country coach handed Logan a bottle of water and gave him a pat on the back.
CJ felt another pang. Everything always came so easily to Logan. Not that he didn’t work hard. Back when she was on the team, they were the only two who consistently logged extra miles and didn’t roll their eyes when their coach shouted inspiring things at them in the middle of practice. For Logan, this extra work resulted in first-place medals and broken records. For CJ, it barely put her in the middle of the pack.
Sometimes CJ couldn’t understand how Jordan had ever dated him. (Sure, it was only for about five minutes during freshman year, but still.) He was too perfect. It made him boring. Right then, Logan peeled off his shirt and used it to dab the sweat off his chest. Well, that certainly wasn’t boring. It was intimidating, though. With his shirt off, his tan skin and carved shoulders, which he’d earned teaching summer swim lessons at the rec center pool, were on full display. CJ folded her arms over the pooch of her stomach self-consciously. She’d spent all summer swimming too, and all it had given her was a face full of freckles.
“Maybe I am into dudes.”
This was Martha talking. Instead of drinking the bottle of water he’d been given, Logan touched it to the back of his neck. Ohio summers had a way of lingering, and the air was heavy with humidity. Sweat and water dripped down his shoulders.