Page 18 of Rival Summer

Without a backward glance, I stepped out into the evening air, the cool breeze wrapping around me like a much-needed embrace. Inhaling deeply, I tried to shake off the lingering intensity of him and the frustration it brought. At Willow’s tonight, I'd be ready. Ready to prove that I was no longer the naïve girl from last summer.

I sank against the clubhouse door, trying to shove away the emotions Reese had stirred up. As I shut my eyes, I was unwillingly dragged back to that day. Reese had dropped me like a summer fling, tossing me aside right before the leaves started to change. I remembered it with excruciating clarity—the casual shrug of his shoulders as if it was just another task during his busy day and he wasn't dismissing me from his life.

I closed my eyes tighter, willing away the images, the sounds, the scents—all the tiny, insignificant details that seemed so important back then. But most of all, I clung to the crushing weight of the realization. Because when he ended it, we were over. The hollowness that followed, the numbness… It had been a bold awakening. I wasn't the same Chandler who melted at his compliments, who had hung on his every word. That Chandler was replaced by someone stronger, someone who knew better than to fall for his bullshit. Not again. Not ever.

Gathering myself, I pushed away from the door and navigated through the dimly lit area toward the laughter and light spilling from the gathering.

And then time froze. Boston appeared, walking up at exactly that moment, his presence commanding attention even without intent.

I could see it, the hint of something unspoken flickering across his features—almost like he was happy to see me. It was there and then gone, replaced by a shadow of disappointment as Reese emerged from behind me, the door behind him shut with a click that echoed louder than it should have.

Reese paused, then stepped into the light. Boston's gaze shifted from me to Reese, and I could almost hear the silent conversation passing between them. With every second that ticked by, an invisible tension flickered around us.

The subtle tick in his jaw and the look in his eyes said it all—Boston was piecing together a false narrative. There I stood, caught in the middle of something I had been fighting hard not to be part of at all. It wasn't what it looked like, but the truth was often lost amongst assumptions that rushed to fill its place. I wanted to say something, anything to dispel the tension, but words failed me. I could only stand there, watching the silent exchange between two men who had each, in their own way, etched indestructible marks on my heart.

EIGHT

boston

My impeccable fucking timing.There we were, the three of us caught in a moment so tense it could shatter with the slightest movement.

Chandler walked out, her hazel eyes avoiding mine. Reese followed her, trying to act casual, but I could see the guilt all over his face. The sight of them cut deeper than I wanted to admit. I should have been numb to this dance by now—should be used to Chandler choosing him—but witnessing it again after all this time? It was an entirely different ball game now.

A muscle in my jaw ticked involuntarily, the only visible sign, I hoped, of my internal turmoil. Chandler stood there not saying a word. I swept my gaze over her—the soft glow of her cheekbones down to the dress hugging her figure in all the right places. I was fighting hard to keep my cool, to hide how much this bothered me.

The silence between us stretched on for what felt like a century, until Reese finally broke it with the gravel of his voice. "I'll see you over there, man." His eyes flickered from me to the crowd gathered around the buffet tables.

I gave him a nod, the slightest dip of my head, but my gaze remained locked on Chandler. He left without a backward glance, and we were alone—together, but miles apart.

"You okay?" The question was all I could come up with at that moment.

"Fine, Boston. Not like you care." Her eyes flashed with hurt, and that surprised me, cutting deeper than I expected.

Fuck me. Despite her reaction, I reached out, fingers gently grasping her wrist, bringing her to me. "I'm sorry," I said, genuinely. "For not responding to your texts, for pushing you away."

"The entire year, though?" she shook her head. “We haven’t talked in months. You didn’t care about me then, so just keep ignoring me, Boston.”

"You're impossible to ignore." My eyes held hers, hoping she would understand the truth behind my words. "It's not you. I've had a lot going on in my head, and I'm working on it."

Her gaze locked onto where my hand held hers, and for a second I hoped she might understand. But then she pulled her wrist free from my grasp, her movement swift and cold. "Glad you're figuring it out," she shot back.

She placed her champagne glass on the table nearby. I wanted to reach out—no, I ached to—but I stayed still. Adjusting my tie, I thought about the hurt in her eyes, how I was the reason for it. She had every right to feel the way she did after all the times I'd retreated when I should have stepped forward.

I needed to be better for her. It was time to pull whatever I could from the depths of myself, to stop pushing her away, or—even worse—back into his arms.

The old Boston seemed like a stranger now, a ghost, even. But if there was a chance, any chance at all to be with her, I had to get out of my own way and fight for her.

A hush fell over the crowd as Coach Levy rose from his seat. Clutching a flute of champagne that suddenly seemed too delicate in my hands, I leaned back against the doorframe, my gaze drifting from Coach to the reason my heart was thumping so erratically.

"Welcome, welcome everyone!" Coach Levy’s voice boomed, his smile as wide as the ball field. "To another year we hope is filled with victories, teamwork, and unforgettable moments."

I should have been listening, nodding along like the rest of the room, yet all I could see and think about was Chandler. Her smile drowned out Coach's words, her eyes sparkled brighter than the twinkle lights on the tables, and the way she threw her head back in amusement with Willow… the air vanished from my lungs. She was extraordinary. She’d been there all along, right in front of me. And then harsh reality hit me—there was a possibility that she wouldn’t always be. My heart clenched in a painful ache as I realized what I could lose if I didn’t do something.

"Here's to making this season one for the history books," Coach finished, raising his glass high.

A chorus of applause echoed around me, glasses clinking in celebration. I remained silent, my thoughts too loud to share space with anything else. I needed to get my shit together—for me, for the team, but most of all, for her—for Chandler.

Parker snapped me back to reality as he clapped me on the shoulder with a carefree grin. "You meeting us at the after-party?"

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