Chapter 4

I thought being loved by her in private made me special.

Then Mark Montgomery showed up.

Athletic, handsome, easy in every room he walked into. Everything I was not.

When Chloe had cheer practice, Mark would lean on the fence with his helmet under one arm and watch her basket toss.

"Not bad," he'd say.

Chloe argued with him constantly. That was the thing everyone noticed — how they argued. But her eyes always followed him afterward.

When Mark practiced, she suddenly needed to walk past the football field. When he came off the field with a scraped knee, she already had gauze in her bag. When his coach yelled at the cheer squad for crossing the line, she stood by the fence and smirked and didn't move.

"You're not quitting, are you?" she teased him once.

I told myself she was just competitive. I told myself she loved me.

But girls are not good at hiding who they really want. Chloe's heart had given her away long before anybody strapped a watch to her wrist.

I fell asleep on the couch with my phone on my chest.

When I woke up, the doorbell was ringing.

Chloe stood outside with a paper bag and two coffees, hair wet from the rain.

"Julian. I deleted the comments." She held the bag out. "The post was just for the game. Don't overthink it. Cinnamon rolls. Your favorite."

I didn't take them.

"My dad wants you over for brunch," she said. "Come on."

I went with her. I always went.

At the Aldrin house, the front door was already open, and Mark was already there, sitting in the good chair by the window.

"Thanks for this," he said, holding up a hoodie I recognized. Chloe's. "She forgot to give it back last night."

"So this is the boy Chloe finally brought home." Mr. Aldrin came out of the kitchen and shook Mark's hand. "I've heard so much about you."

Chloe gave me a warning look. A small one. Two seconds of eye contact, then nothing.

I forced a smile.

At the table, Mr. Aldrin got Mark talking. QB1 of Riverton. A GPA that would hold up anywhere. A family that owned the car dealership on Route 9.

"Chloe needs someone like you," he said, passing Mark the salt. "Someone who can keep up with her."

My fingers tightened around my fork.

"Julian, are you still thinking about trying out for the football camp next semester?" Mr. Aldrin asked, glancing down the table without really looking at me.

Mark answered before I could.

"Oh, football's brutal." He laughed, easy, like it was a kindness. "Maybe golf would be better for him."

I looked down at my plate. Gravy, potatoes, a roll going cold.

"I'll figure it out," I said.