Using that last comment as an excuse to examine his face, I reach out and brush my thumb along his cheekbone. His eyes lock on mine. “I noticed you did that,” I tell him. “And it was smart. But I’ve got to admit, I really like you in your glasses.”

“You do?” he breathes out.

“Mmhmm.”

I don’t know what possessed me to say that, only that it’s the truth. Sure, I like being able to look into his eyes without anything in the way, which is something I’ve learned by spending time with him at night after he’s taken his glasses off. But glasses suit his face well.

Thankfully, before I fall under a trance and start confessing all the other things I really like about him, Roddy yells into his stupid megaphone for everyone to get into position. This also leaves me no time to consider how ridiculous the event is going to be and decide to bail out.

I don’t want to bail on Brenden. But fucking hell, I don’t want to do a damn wheelbarrow race either. I know so many people are probably already laughing at me for participating. It’ll be a miracle if no one takes any pictures to send to my dad.

He’d believe that I got roped into doing this with Brenden without anything else sketchy going on, but he’d definitely give me shit for it. He knows I hate town stuff.

“Ready?” Brenden asks as he steps in front of me, facing the line that’s been taped across the field.

“No.”

He laughs and crouches down, placing his hands in the grass. “Come on, grab my ankles.”

I swear under my breath for good measure, but do what he says, raising his legs up in the air behind him as he uses his arms for balance. This is going to end with someone breaking a limb.

Glancing over at Elise, who is two people away from me, I worry for a moment. But she’s smiling as she holds up May’s legs. At least May is light.

“Go as fast as you can and I’ll try to keep up,” Brenden tells me.

That sounds like a terrible strategy, but then Roddy yells, “On your marks, get set, go!” and I don’t have time to argue. I just go.

It’s awkward running like this, supporting most of Brenden’s weight so he doesn’t face plant in the grass, while also trying not to knock into him. But we find a rhythm pretty quickly, and I’m able to pick up the pace. It’s hard to tell how anyone else is doing, because I’m afraid to let my eyes veer off course. In my periphery, though, I notice as we pull ahead of some people.