Yeah, they were together sophomore year, from mid-November to just after spring break. For four months it wasn’t Sam and Hadley. Hadley and Sam.
It was Sam and Abby. Abby and Sam.
Four months, two weeks and four days.
Not that I counted or anything.
Or celebrated their breakup with a huge slice of chocolate fudge cake with mocha frosting that I might or might not have made to commemorate the event.
It’d been so awkward, sharing Sam with another girl. He’d gone out with girls before, but nothing serious. Not until Abby. It’d been the first time one of us had another person in their life who was more important.
A person he wanted to be with more than he wanted to be with me.
She blames me for the breakup. Blamed me for most things that went wrong when they were together, too. Any time I spent with Sam was dissected, analyzed and argued over. Any texts to or from me were read so she could try and decipher some hidden meaning. Any comment about me was questioned.
It was the second-worst time period in my life.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam asks me, clueless to the fact that, as we speak, his eyes on me, his body leaning over mine, his ex-girlfriend is a seething, writhing mass of jealousy, ready to rip my hair out because, for some reason, it’s always the other girl’s fault.
Boys. Not only clueless but also, apparently, blameless.
“I’m good,” I say, sensing Abby staring at me, drilling a hole between my shoulder blades with the force of her hatred.
No love lost between us two, that’s for sure.
I glance back at her and our eyes meet. I let my lips turn up slightly when her own mouth thins. After a long, tense moment, I face Sam again, satisfied and triumphant that he’s still with me, by my side.
It’s wrong. Wrong and mean and spiteful of me to feel that way, to be glad he chose me. But I can’t stop it.
Even though it means my feelings for Sam haven’t changed as much as I want to believe.
“You’d better go,” I mutter. What is it about this boy that has me such a freaking mess? “We wouldn’t want Abby getting upset.”
That was our mantra when they were a couple. Don’t do or say anything that will upset, anger or sadden Abby.
Forget a short leash, Abby had kept Sam under her thumb. She’d kept track of his whereabouts and, especially, every moment he spent with me. And if that time equaled even one more minute than the time and attention he’d given to her, there was hell to pay in the form of tantrums, tears and sulking.
And, okay, there may have been a bit of whining, complaining and hurt feelings on my end, too.
“I’m not here with Abby,” he says, and it’s as if the entire party disappears, the sounds of laughter and conversation muting, people fading into shadows. It’s as if Sam and I are the only two people on the deck. The only two people in the entire world. “I’m with you.” He takes another step closer, his voice going husky. “I’d rather be with you.”
His words, the way he’s looking at me make me jittery and confused and excited. Before he left, he never would have said something so flirtatious. So honest.
Would never have looked at me with such hope and longing, as if I’m the only thing he needs. The only thing he wants.
My resolve weakens even more and I sway toward him, unsure of everything, especially my intentions. Uncertain about what’s right and wrong between us. What’s smart.
“Hey, Hot Hadley! You made it.”
Max’s voice jars me and I stumble back, the world once more coming into focus. A reminder that we’re not alone, Sam and me. A harsh warning of why I can’t let my guard down around Sam. Why things between us can’t ever be what he wants.
What I want.
Max saunters up to us, a trio of sophomore girls trailing behind him, and wraps me in a full-body hug, lifting me off the ground.
Max is very touchy-feely with me.
But only when Sam is around.
The Constable brothers are extremely competitive with everything. Basketball. Grades. Their mom’s affection. Their dad’s attention.
Me.
Not that Max is interested in me. What he’s interested in is bugging Sam and nothing bothers Sam more than Max flirting with me.
Max is still hugging me when behind him, there’s a wave of disappointed sighs. The sophomore girls had high hopes, and I have dashed them.
More like I saved them a lot of time, effort and heartbreak.
The Constable brothers can do a number on you, that’s for sure.
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Max asks as he sets me back on my feet.
He keeps his arms around my waist, like we’re dancing, and I twist to see Sam. He’s all scowly, his eyes on Max’s hands, which are palming my back just above my butt. I face Max again. “Sam asked me to come with him.”
It’s the truth. And the only reason I’m here.
Because of Sam.
Sam takes me by the arm and tugs me free of his brother’s hold. “You just get here?” he asks Max.
“A few minutes ago.”
“I thought you were leaving the house right after I did.” Which, considering Sam spent thirty minutes at my house, means Max should have been here much, much sooner.
Max smiles. “Had to make a pit stop.”
More like a pot stop. The boy reeks of it, his eyes glazed, his grin sloppy.
Sam’s eyes narrow. “Did you drive after you smoked?”
“Relax,” Max says, patting Sam on the head like he’s a puppy and not his brother who’s his equal in breadth and taller in height. “I’ve got it under control. And you’ve got enough on your mind without worrying about me.” He pulls me to his side, settles his hand on my hip and winks at Sam. “Like how you’re going to get your girl back after you royally fucked things up.”
Sam flushes, color climbing his neck up to his face. He takes a step toward us and I have a premonition of him taking my arm again, of being the rope in a tug-of-war between the Constable brothers. Winner gets Hadley!
I elbow Max in the side. Hard. With a grunt, he lets go of me and rubs his ribs, giving me an injured look. “What’d you do that for?”
I roll my eyes at him. High or not, he knows why I did it. “Because you’re being a dick.”
Now his hand goes to his heart and he stumbles back as if I’ve knocked him a good one. “Ouch. Hot Hadley, you sure do know how to hurt a guy.” He slings his arm around Sam’s shoulders, all brotherly solidarity and understanding. “Isn’t that right, Sammy boy?”
Sam shrugs him off, the move jerky and aggressive and very un-Sam-like, as he whirls on his brother. “Knock it off.”
A hard gleam enters Max’s eyes. So much for pot mellowing people out.
“Poor Sammy. All tied up in knots because Hot Hadley’s put you firmly in the friendzone. You know what they say about that, don’t you? Once you’re in the zone, you never get out.” He claps Sam hard on the back. “Take my advice, little brother, cut your losses.” Max looks at me long and steady. “Some people aren’t worth it.”
My head snaps back. My breath lodges in my chest.
Ouch.
Something’s going on with Max, something more than just sibling rivalry or him messing with Sam. He’s always been quick with a joke or a teasing comment. But he’s never been mean.