I should probably apologize for snapping at her when she was only trying to help with Katie. But when it came to Whitney Galloway, I was raw and bruised and didn’t make the best decisions. I was ruled by emotion, particularly when I looked too long into her green eyes.
“We did not bang it out in the nursery! I would never do that!” Lena exclaimed, looking mortified.
“We banged it out in the guest bathroom, of course. We’re not complete animals,” Jeremy added with a wolfish grin.
Adam groaned, and Meg and Robert laughed. I smiled awkwardly, all too focused on the smell of Whitney’s floral perfume.
Adam dropped the platter of steaks in the middle of the table. I took one, cutting into it hesitantly. “Wow, they’re not charred to a crisp, Decate. Nicely done,” I told him.
“Mine might be still mooing, though.” Skylar cringed as she cut into the meat and a pool of red seeped onto her plate.
“Is my steak supposed to be blue on the inside?” Rob asked, though I could tell he was joking. Even if his sense of humor was a little on the dry side.
“Shut up, all of you, and eat your damn dinner,” Adam grumbled though there was no bite to it. We ate our food, laughing at old stories, and arguing over politics. I noticed Whitney was quiet. I remembered she used to be the girl at the center of everything. Times had definitely changed.
***
“Stop staring, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Skylar hissed under her breath. We had taken our seats on the bleachers two rows from the back. We saved seats for Adam and Meg, who were still coming into the gym with their class. It was a pep rally for the baseball team who had made it to the state championship. Neither Adam nor I played baseball, one of the only sports we didn’t participate in. So instead of being down on the gym floor, we were going to be up in the bleachers.
Which was probably a good thing, considering I was apparently embarrassing myself by staring at Meg’s sister gyrating to dance music in her super tiny cheerleading skirt.
“She’s just so hot,” I groaned, feeling the twist and turning in my groin that I always felt when I looked at the older Galloway sister.
“She’s dating Bryan Nichols; she couldn’t care less about some dinky sophomore,” Skylar stated matter of factly. She wasn’t trying to be mean, only stating facts. And facts sucked.
“Bryan’s a dick. Everyone knows that,” I insisted, still staring. Still embarrassing myself.
“Everyone knows what?” Meg asked, knocking my leg with hers as she sat down. Adam greeted a bunch of people as he made his way over to us—he was definitely Mr. Popular.
“Nothing,” I muttered, not wanting to talk about Whitney with Meg, knowing exactly what my friend would say.
“He’s drooling over your sister again, Meg. Tell him he’s an idiot.” Skylar put a piece of bubblegum in her mouth and blew a large bubble, popping it loudly.
Meg shook her head. “Get over it, Web. I love my sister, but she’s so far out of your league it would take you a century to climb up to her.”
“Plus, she’s dating Nichols,” Adam added, finally sitting down on the other side of Meg, who I noticed flushed red. Huh.
“So I’ve been told,” I snapped.
Meg put her hand on my arm, giving it a squeeze. “You need to get over her, Webby. She’s the queen of this school, and trust me when I tell you she has certain standards. And dating a lowly sophomore will never, ever happen. You’re a cutie, but you’re not the star of the baseball team going to state.”
The four of us watched as Whitney was lifted into a basket toss and thrown in the air. Yeah, I stared at her ass as she tumbled toward the floor where she was caught by her fellow cheerleaders. When the routine was finished, the baseball team joined them, Bryan Nichols going straight to her side. Whitney kissed his cheek and took his hand, their coupledom on show for everyone.
That was my life. Watching Whitney Galloway living hers and wishing I were living it with her.
***
It was hard to reconcile the quiet, almost shy woman who sat across from me with the sweet, smiling girl she had been. Both were equally stunning. Both had me tied up in knots, whether I wanted to be or not.
When the group finished eating, we migrated into the living room to