I take her hand gently but move it off my zipper where it landed. “I should go before she gets home. Don’t want her to worry about what we’ve been doing in here.”

Her eyelashes flutter in annoyance. “Yeah, she literally has nothing to worry about. You never want to do it anymore.”

I cringe at her calling me out, but I can’t argue with her. I mean, sex is awesome. I like it fine, but I don’t 100 percent get what all the fuss is about. We did it for the first time at the end of our sophomore year. Although, it kind of felt like that was just what was expected—high-school football star and head cheerleader. But I don’t know. It was good, and it’s been good every time since then. It’s just not something I have to do every time we see each other.

“I’m just not in the mood.”

“You’re never in the mood,” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against her headboard. Great, I think we’re fighting. Again.

I swear it’s all we ever do.

Maybe that’s why I’m never in the fucking mood. It’s always fighting with her. It’s never easy. And now we’re fighting about fucking. This is just great.

“I gotta go.” I climb off her bed and find my black Kensley Panthers jersey, pulling it over my head.

“Fine. Whatever.”

I don’t even bother trying to offer her a kiss goodbye or giving her any words. There’s no point. Once Kennedy is pissed off, she’s pissed off for a while. What the fuck ever.

I fist-bump one of her little brothers on the way out and then head to my car, climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine I love so damn much. It’s loud, probably a little too loud, but everyone in the town knows my car.

They wave when I drive by. There goes Kingston Wells, tight end for the Kensley Panthers. Total badass. I know that’s what they think.

And it’s a great part of my life. I love it. I love everything about high school. I park in front of Camden’s house, which is only a couple of blocks from my own, and kill the engine.

I especially love my best friend.

Kennedy is wrong. There’s no way he’d leave this town behind. I know he’s Mr. Responsible, always taking care of everything, but he loves it here as much as I do. I saw the look in his eyes right before he passed that ball downfield. I felt the energy and the love of the game—not just the game, but also the town—crackling through the air just before I caught it.

Yeah, Kennedy is crazy.