“Uh-huh.” Finn’s eyes are alight with excitement. “He wants you up against some football player from Ridgemont.”

I make a noncommittal sound as I unwrap the bar and take a large bite of my breakfast. Inside, I’m starting to spiral and second-guess. I knew that the start of the basketball season was going to add complications. Especially since I have no good reason to be involved in Declan’s questionable business enterprises in the first place. It’s pointless and I know it.

But I make a lot of stupid decisions.

“’Sup, guys?” Mark appears, munching on an apple.

He and Finn start talking about the football game they watched last night as we all head for the front doors of the high school.

I pull out my phone and scroll through the messages I didn’t have time to read this morning. There are a few new ones from my dad. He’s good about checking in with me and Sydney regularly. Of course, my angel of a sister has already sent him a lengthy response to his texts, telling him all about her wholesome weekend doing homework and hanging out with her best friend.

I type a short response and shove my phone back into the pocket of my fleece as we walk inside Pembrooke High School. It always smells the same in here—like cleaning supplies and paint. The high school is new. They finished building it four years ago, right before the start of my freshman year.

Every surface gleams, the tiled floors and the lockers that line the walls. Our school colors are blue and yellow, so the short strip of plaster above the navy lockers is painted a sunny shade.

The hallway is busy. We’re only a few minutes away from first bell. Finn and Mark follow me to my locker. I grab the green notebook I use for English.

I slam the door shut and hear a distinctive laugh. Like a magnet, my gaze snaps to Cassia. She’s standing across the hall at her locker. Sydney is right next to her. And Cassia…Cassia is talking to Spencer Barnes, who looks likely to shit himself over having her undivided attention. Over having made her laugh.

The pulse of possessiveness is expected.

Familiar.

Annoying.

I look away before anyone in the hall catches me staring. To them, Cassia and Spencer probably look like an obvious pairing. They’re both smart and strait-laced and nice. They are the ones teachers like and parents adore.

There’s more to Cassia, though. Or there used to be. I don’t spend enough time around her anymore to tell for sure. I do everything I can to make sure our interactions are limited, which is harder than it should be.

We go to the same school.

Live on the same street.

She’s best friends with my little sister.