She smiles widely when she sees me and saunters over. “Hey! Should we grab a table?”

“Sure,” I reply, rubbing a hand across my face as soon as she turns and heads toward one of the open ones. This was a mistake.

A waitress arrives at our table as soon as we sit down.

“What can I get you?” she asks me, ignoring Gretchen entirely. “It’s on the house for our hometown hero.” She leans over in an obvious attempt to flash me the view her low-cut shirt offers.

I pull the plastic menu that lists the limited options from behind the napkin dispenser. “I’m going to need a minute,” I inform her.

“No problem.” She flashes me a flirty grin before backtracking to the bar.

“Wow, I forgot what it’s like to be around other girls with you,” Gretchen remarks. She laughs, but there’s a clear note of possessiveness lurking underneath. How did I miss that before?

I don’t reply, surveying the short list of beers they offer.

“So, what’s it like being a professional football player?” Gretchen asks. “You did it. You really made it. I still remember you talking about it in middle school after you watched that Jerry Lewis documentary.”

“Yeah, I did make it.” I smile at the memory.

“So? What’s it like?”

“It’s fun.” My voice sounds flat. “I like the team, and we’ve melded well. It’s been an intense couple of weeks lately.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Gretchen admits.

The waitress reappears. “Did you decide?”

“I’ll just take whatever you recommend on tap,” I reply.

She smiles and nods.

“I’ll take a vodka cranberry,” Gretchen adds.

The waitress heads back to the bar to put in our orders.

“So this is your last year at Jameston, right?” I ask, eager to change the subject to anything but me.

“I just have one semester left. I’m graduating early.” Gretchen sounds displeased by my question. Was I supposed to know that? We’ve only talked sporadically since the end of high school.

“Congrats,” I offer, suddenly glad our waitress is disregarding all the other patrons and chooses this moment to return with our drinks. I take a greedy gulp of the cold beer.

Our conversation turns to more neutral topics, discussing our mutual high school friends, our families, and future plans. I take slow sips of my beer, but Gretchen downs two more refills after she finishes her first vodka cranberry.

“So, are you dating anyone?” Gretchen asks once we’ve exhausted the neutral topics.

I shift uncomfortably. “No. I’ve just been focusing on football.”

She smiles. “You know, I was thinking maybe I could come visit you. Before I have to head back to school.”

I take a deep breath. “Gretchen, I don’t think that would be the best idea.”

“Why not? Things are just going to keep getting crazier for you, Jace, and I can help handle it. I know you. I can support you. We would be perfect together. I’ve always had feelings for you, and—”