Page 19 of Rival Summer

"No, I'm going to bed early tonight," I said, hoping my voice didn't betray the inner turmoil his sister had just stirred within me.

Parker scoffed playfully, giving me a look that told me he wasn’t letting me out of this one. "No way, man. You've done this all year. It's summer. You have to go out with the team tonight."

A couple of our teammates overheard the conversation and chimed in. "Boston, come on, man, don't be a party pooper."

"Fine, I'll think about it," I conceded.

"Plus, you have to be my beer pong partner," Parker persisted, then whispered, "Everyone else kinda sucks."

"Okay, I'll go for one game, and then I'm leaving."

"Deal!" Parker exclaimed, slapping me on the back with enough force to make me lurch forward.

When I pulled up to Willow’s, I took a deep breath before opening my truck door. People were scattered around the porch and in the front yard as I walked up.

"Riley! Come take a shot with me!" Bailey’s offer was a welcome relief. I desperately needed a drink knowing Chandler would be running around somewhere. He waved a bottle in the air, and I couldn't help but smile at him.

The porch’s wooden boards creaked under my feet as I walked up the steps and accepted the bottle Bailey thrust into my hand. With a nod to him, I tossed it back. Liquid fire seared down my throat, leaving a trail of heat that settled in my stomach. Bailey clapped me on the back with a grin, oblivious to my internal grimace.

"Ha, that'll rip hair off your chest!" he chuckled.

“Oh buddy, the expression is that’llputhair on your chest,” I snickered. He shrugged and took another sip.

"Come on, Riley," Bailey said, nudging me toward the house with his elbow. "Let's get this party started. Parker just got here, too."

Willow smiled and greeted us when we walked in, but her gaze stayed locked on Parker. It was clear there were unspoken words and feelings hanging between them, leftover from last summer. She took measured steps toward him, her bubbly demeanor giving way to something more pensive.

"Hey, Parker," Willow said, her voice a blend of warmth and caution as if she was testing out the situation.

"Willow," he replied, looking surprised to see her. His stance softened.

They shared a long hug. A little bit too long. And then Willow planted a kiss on Parker's cheek.

"It's good to see you," she said, rubbing his arm, "but we're definitely going to have a discussion later."

"Sounds good, Will," Parker nodded, a hint of humor flickering in his eyes.

I gave him a knowing look and he shrugged, downplaying what everyone else clearly saw as more than just a friendly greeting.

Crew tilted the bottle back, finishing what was left of it. "Well," he drawled, “guess that's our cue to get this party started."

The television’s neon glow flickered across Parker's face, deep in concentration as we sat hunched over, controllers in hand. Mario Kart—the only game Willow owned—had been set up in the living room. My attention was pulled away from the game by the sound of laughter as Chandler walked by. She had that kind of beauty you could get lost in, and those shorts she was wearing hugged her hips just right. I swear I caught the drift of her perfume—something light and fresh with a touch of coconut.

I forced my gaze back to the screen in time to see Parker’s car go flying off a cliff. He was distracted too—his eyes had been locked on Willow.

"You gonna go talk to her or what?" I set my controller down with a smirk. His eyes met mine for a split second before he put his controller down too, a short laugh betraying his cool exterior.

"Yeah," Parker agreed, nodding toward Willow, her curly blonde hair bouncing as she chatted animatedly with Chandler. "Let’s go see what they’re up to."

"Lead the way," I said, as we rose from the couch.

Parker snatched a beer from an innocent bystander, who gave him a strange but understanding look. He took a long sip, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed it down.

Willow spotted him first, her face lighting up with surprise mixed with suspicion. "There you are! Way to keep in touch with me this year, you jerk," she said, playfully.

"Woah, I sent you a picture," Parker tilted his head. "You never responded."

I looked at Parker, wondering what kind of picture would elicit such a response—or lack thereof.

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