Page 52 of The Score

"Cheers!" Everyone joins in.

I take my shot and steal a glance at Pen. She smiles. She glows. She looks stunning. The ring isn't clearly visible from my spot, but I'm hoping I'll see it shimmer in the distance. It brings somersaults to my insides when I do.

I clean my mouth with the back of my hand. "Suspicious. Why did you say you're allvery excitedto attend?"

"I've never been a groomsman," Dom says.

"Our suits are incredible," Saint adds, sitting with the group again.

I squint. They smile and don't add anything else.

I turn to Logan. "What's going on?"

He smirks. "We're wondering how real everything is going to look."

I raise my eyebrows.

"Remember last year?" Damián asks. "When we were doing our intervention with Saint about Ames. You got really angry when I implied you and Pen might be in love."

I remember. We were in a private penthouse party after winning the Conference title. Saint had needed a push to get things right with Ames. As we talked, Damián suggested there might be something beyond friendship between Pen and I.

Back then, I made myself big. I turned my body into a wall, the kind to keep that line of thinking at bay and away. It was crucial a year ago, and it's crucial today. The moment Pen or I give in to the pressure and ask those questions— and I know that would be me— the friendship is no more. Entertaining the notion can be enough to change everything, and I can't risk that.

It's something I'm quickly re-learning. Something I need to get tattooed on my skin in a whole new way.

"You may have fallen in love with your best friend," I tell him. "Doesn't mean I am in love with mine."

A long time ago, when we kissed, I got too close to these questions for comfort. I might have asked, and I might have tried, if only because for the briefest moment, I feltsomething. She immediately corrected the course, with the way things went. I've never let myself forget, and I've never asked more of the moment.

"Of course," Damián says. "You know Nat and I were friends long before we started dating. She may be my wife now but, back then? She used to get annoyedjust like you when someone assumed we were romantically involved. You know what she used to say?"

He doesn't wait for us to ask. I study him, hoping for a response that will set me at ease. Everyone else pays attention, too.

"Nat used to say queer people have best friends of the genders they're attracted to all the time. Why is that easy to believe, but not when the friends are straight-presenting in a heteronormative world? It's bullshit, she used to say."

"It is bullshit," I agree. "Yet here we are, with all of you implying we're wrong about being friends."

"It's only that sometimes," Logan says to my surprise, "you look like you're in love."

It's not like the quarterback to be the most outspoken in these situations.

"We're not," I insist.

"Are you going to kiss at the ceremony?" Saint asks. His words carry true curiosity. "It could show you something you don't know."

"We will," I say. "But it won't."

"How can you be so sure?" Dom asks.

Don't get me wrong. It was nice. Three out of ten.

That's what she said, and all I need to know.

"We kissed already." I grind my teeth. "A while ago."

My friends stare at me in shock. Rather than hold their gaze, I steal a glance at Pen. She laughs free and light, unencumbered by what we're discussing over here in our circle.

"This," Damián says. "Moments just like this. The way you look when you look at her…"