Chapter 173
Summer's POV
The water Mia handed me tasted like plastic and adrenaline, but I drank it anyway, my hands still shaking from the confrontation with Brooke and the weight of Kieran's touch that still seemed to burn on my shoulder. The athletic field stretched out before us, the track gleaming under the afternoon sun, and somewhere in the growing crowd of students gathering along the sidelines, I could feel eyes on me—curious, judgmental, intrigued. I didn't care anymore. I was done hiding, done pretending I didn't feel what I felt, done letting people like Brooke dictate what I was allowed to want.
The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers again, more energetic this time, building up the excitement as the 5000-meter runners began to gather near the starting line. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've saved the best for last! Our boys' 5K is about to begin, and let me tell you, the competition is fierce this year. But that's not all—thanks to our generous sponsor, the winner will receive this year's hottest spring limited edition prize: the Beach Cottage LEGO set in that gorgeous pink and blue colorway that's been sold out everywhere!"
The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles, but a confused murmur rippled through the boys near the starting line.
"Wait—seriously? The pink beach house?" someone shouted from the bleachers, and a wave of laughter followed.
The announcer chuckled awkwardly. "Hey, don't look at me—our sponsor picked the prize, and trust me, this thing's reselling for two grand online. Whoever wins can keep it, sell it, gift it to their girlfriend—you do you!"
That got another round of cheers, louder this time, and I felt my stomach twist with nervous anticipation. I knew Kieran didn't care about LEGO sets or prizes or any of that—he ran because he was good at it, because it was one of the few things in his life where he had complete control. But the thought of him winning, of watching him cross that finish line first, made something fierce and protective rise in my chest.
"Two thousand dollars," Ashley said from somewhere behind me, her voice carrying over the noise. "My little brother's been begging for it for months. Whoever wins is going to be a legend."
Mia squeezed my hand, her eyes scanning the track. "Where is he? Do you see him?"
I did. Kieran stood near the far end of the starting line, stretching his hamstrings with that same focused intensity he brought to everything—physics problems, dishwashing shifts, protecting his sister. Logan was beside him, talking animatedly about something, gesturing wildly with his hands, but Kieran's expression remained neutral, almost distant, like he was already running the race in his mind.
And then I saw Evan.
He emerged from the crowd of runners like he was walking onto a stage, his St. Jude's track uniform pristine and perfectly fitted, his blond hair catching the sunlight in a way that probably looked angelic to anyone who didn't know what kind of person he really was. Blake was right behind him, along with a few other guys from the rowing team, all of them laughing and slapping each other's backs like they'd already won.
But Evan wasn't laughing. His eyes swept across the crowd until they found me, standing there in my gold cheerleading uniform with Kieran's number painted on my cheek, and his expression hardened into something cold and contemptuous. He said something to Blake that made them both smirk, and then he started walking—no, strutting—toward the section of bleachers where I stood with Mia.
My heart started to pound, not from attraction or nervousness but from something closer to dread. I'd rejected his public confession in front of the entire school just weeks ago, had told him clearly that I didn't feel that way about him, that I never had. But Evan Whitmore wasn't used to being told no, wasn't used to girls choosing someone else—especially not someone like Kieran.
"Summer," Mia whispered urgently, her grip on my hand tightening. "He's coming over here."
I watched as Brooke materialized at Evan's side—though "materialized" was generous. She looked like she'd been reassembled rather than recovered: her cheerleading uniform was still immaculate, but her eyes were faintly swollen, the skin around them carrying a pinkish tint that no amount of hastily reapplied concealer could fully hide. Her smile, when she turned it on, was too wide and too bright, stretched tight over something brittle underneath, like a window display that had been smashed and glued back together. She touched Evan's arm and said something I couldn't hear, but her voice sounded thinner than usual, stripped of its usual commanding edge.
Evan had gotten together with Brooke almost immediately after I rejected him, though everyone knew he didn't actually like her—because every single time we crossed paths, his eyes never once landed on the girl beside him. They were always on me. But Evan barely glanced at her, his attention fixed entirely on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Evan! You've got this, babe!" Brooke called out, her voice carrying across the field with practiced cheerfulness, but it cracked slightly on the last word, and there was something desperate in the way she clung to his arm—not just trying to remind him and everyone else that she was the one standing beside him now, but clinging to it like an anchor, like if she let go she might drift back to wherever she'd been five minutes ago, standing alone with the wreckage of what Kieran and Logan had said to her still ringing in her ears.
He shook her off without even looking at her, and I saw her face crumple—not just fall, but crumple, the brittle mask shattering for a full two seconds before she caught herself and plastered it back on, jaw tight, chin lifted, eyes glassy.
When Evan reached the edge of the track nearest to where I stood, he stopped, his eyes raking over me with undisguised disgust. "Nice costume," he said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Really committing to the charity case aesthetic, aren't you?"