Page 20 of Rival Summer

"Because, Parker," Willow retorted, hands on her hips and trying to hold back a laugh, "you sent me a picture of your grilled cheese sandwich."

"What kind of picture did you want, baby girl? A dick pic?"

"Honestly, that would have been more entertaining than your burnt sandwich," she said, playfully.

"That’s where I draw the line," he shot back with a smile. "It was not burnt. It was golden-brown. My best one yet. That's why I sent you the picture."

I leaned against the wall, nursing my drink and shaking my head at their antics. But then my gaze drifted to Chandler.

She was standing next to Willow with her arms crossed, her hazel eyes tracking every movement Reese made across the room. She was subtle about it, but I'd known her long enough to understand what she was doing. A pang, sharp and unwelcome, twinged in my chest. After so much time, I thought the stupid feeling would stop.

“Hey," I nodded toward Reese. "You keep looking at him like that, he's gonna catch on. Just go talk to him."

Her gaze snapped to mine, a flash of surprise flickering across her face. "No," she said, firmly. "I'm staying clear of him this summer." She turned away slightly, looking back at the crowd, not quite meeting my eyes. "He ended things. He made his choice.” Her lips pressed into a thin line.

I caught myself staring just a little too long at the way her hazel eyes shimmered under the soft glow of the string lights hanging on the wall nearby.

"Reese might be related to me," I began, the words smooth despite the flutter in my chest, "but you know there's one huge difference between us."

She raised an eyebrow, her gaze skeptical yet curious—a look I'd come to appreciate over the years. "What? I hope you're not about to brag about your batting averages. I’ve heard it many times."

It was easy talking to her like this, even if my heart hammered against my ribs with every word. "Nah," I said, before taking a small sip of my drink. "If I had you, Chandler, I'd never let you go."

The air seemed to still around us, thick with the weight of my confession. She looked intently at me in the dim light and took a step back. There was a vulnerability in that suspended moment that told me my words had landed right where I’d intended.

I wasn't sorry for telling her the truth that had been swelling inside me for far too long. This summer things needed to be different; I needed to be different—braver, stronger. And as I watched Chandler's lips part slightly, her eyes searching mine for sincerity, I knew I wasn't going to hold anything back. Not anymore.

After she had a moment to take in what I said, her eyes darkened and narrowed, pinning me with an accusation. “Well, you had no problem shutting me out this last year,” she spat.

I clenched my jaw. I should have seen that coming.

“Isn't that kind of the same thing? Actually, worse?” she added.

“How is that worse?” I shot back, struggling to keep my voice even. The memory of that time was raw. It was the most fucked up situation. What was the right way to handle it? “I thought you were still with him, anyway. I was sorting through shit.”

“Well, maybe I’m sorting through shit, too,” Chandler retorted, her frustration palpable.

She abruptly turned away, still mad, I could tell, but looking cute as ever. She stepped into Willow's ongoing conversation with Parker, who was deeply engaged, his animated hands punctuating each word.

"Did you say we’re going to the bar soon?" Chandler interrupted him, not bothering to hide her urgency. She clearly wanted to escape. "I think I've had enough of this crowd."

Willow blinked, focusing on the interruption, but before she could respond, Parker's gaze flicked to Chandler, a knowing twinkle briefly overshadowing his usual mirth. He sensed the undercurrents swirling around us, and his protective instincts were rising to the surface.

“If you’re going to the bar, then I’m going to the bar,” he declared with a determined nod towards his sister.

I took a deep sigh, the weight of inevitability settling on my chest. This meant one thing for certain—I was going, too. In Parker’s presence, the air was always lighter, but tonight, even his humor felt like it wouldn’t be enough to bridge the distance between Chandler and me.

NINE

chandler

I slippedinto the backseat of the Uber and felt my crop top stretch, the material pushing everything up just right. I went for a pair of tight shorts that hugged my hips like a second skin. Tonight wasn't just about celebrating the start of summer—it was about feeling confident and shoving it in the guys' faces. Boston and Reese had been a constant loop of frustration in my head, and a small part of me wanted to prove that I could do just fine on my own. I didn’t need either of them.

"Have fun," the Uber driver called out as Willow and I stepped onto the curb outside the bar. We waved at him before he took off.

The door swung open to a wave of distant music and clinking glasses. The team's laughter came from the right side of the bar where they had congregated, basking in their excitement of a new season. But I didn’t head towards them. Instead, I veered left, headed straight to the bar.

“I need to use the bathroom. I’ll meet you at the bar,” Willow said over the music. I nodded as she walked in the opposite direction.

---