Piper Renner is walking across the quad in ripped jeans and a tank top I've never seen her wear before. Her hair's up in this messy bun thing that shows her neck, and she's laughing at something her friend is saying.
I haven't seen her in a couple of days.
The football hits me in the face.
“Smooth,” Troy observes.
“Shut up.” I sit up, grass stuck in my hair, and wave at Piper because I'm apparently twelve years old.
She sees me and freezes like a deer in headlights. Her friend—tiny girl with dark hair who looks surprised? Excited?—grabs her arm and starts hissing something.
“Piper!” I call out before I can stop myself. “Come here, I need you to settle something.”
“What do we need settled?” Freddie asks, still doing pushups.
“I don't know, I'll figure it out when she gets here.”
“You're so weird,” Troy says.
“Weird and smart,” I correct as Piper's friend literally drags her over.
And now she's standing above me, backlit by the sun and I realize I'm staring at her legs. They're... Christ, when did she get legs like that?
Has she always had legs like that?
“This is Piper,” I announce, sitting up and trying to look like I wasn't just admiring her. “I’m helping her with that narrative thing.”
“The girl from the diner!” Freddie stops mid-pushup. “Ethan won't shut up about?—”
“—tutoring,” I interrupt, because Freddie's about to say something about how I described her eyes as 'criminally pretty' after three beers the other night. “He means the tutoring.”
Troy smirks because he's an asshole who was present for the eye conversation. “Right. The tutoring.”
“I'm Riya,” Piper's friend announces, sitting down like she owns the place. I immediately like her. “Piper's told me absolutely nothing about any of you, which is criminal.”
“What? I’m shocked. I thought we were friends,” I say,patting the grass next to me. When she sits, her thigh almost touches mine.
She smells like vanilla and something flowery. How does someone who works at a diner smell this good?
Piper rolls her eyes.
“We’reassignedfriends. What do you need, Ethan?”
"Who do you two lovely ladies think can do more pushups, me or my boy Troy?"
"Twenty bucks on Freddie," Tara says, appearing out of nowhere because she has supernatural timing. She drops next to Alfie and steals his juice box. "Troy's all show."
"Ethan said me or him, Freddie's not even included!" Troy whines.
We strip off our shirts because,well,it's not a real competition unless someone's being ridiculous. I catch Piper's eyes flick down to my chest, then away so fast I almost miss it. Almost.
God, she's trying so hard not to look. This is fucking perfect.
"First to fail buys pizza tonight," Troy declares, getting into position.
We start strong, both of us keeping perfect form. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. My shoulder starts its familiar burn around forty, that deep ache that reminds me why I can't throw anymore. But Piper's watching—I can feel it even with my eyes on the grass—and there's no way I'm losing now.
"Getting tired, Prescott?" Troy pants at fifty.
