Page 115 of Never Will I Ever

“I don’t give a fuck about that. It’s just a fall scrim.” Releasing his legs from the butterfly stretch he’d been holding, he moves into a 90/90 stretch. “Where’s your head at?”

I debate for a solid ten seconds on if it’s stupid for me to be feeling this way, let alone to admit it aloud. And toKeeneof all people.

In the end, I play it off with a severely watered-down version of the truth.

“It’s just…weird that Avery isn’t here.”

Keene’s brows crash together at the center. “Uh, yeah. I guess I hadn’t really thought about it in that way. But it’s really no different than when the seniors don’t come back.”

“Yeah, sure,” I agree absently. “It just crossed my mind, that’s all.”

He studies me, still frowning. “Look, I get this is awkward. I know you guys were friends—”

“We really weren’t,” I cut in with a shake of the head, though it’s not lost on me that, not very long ago, we were so much more than friends. “I mean, at one point, yeah. Freshman and sophomore year. But not when he outed you and Aspen.”

“I know,” he says with a nod.

He seems content to just leave it at that, but I find more wordsspilling from my lips like word vomit.

“He’s just so frustrating, you know? I thought I knew who he was, only to be shown a side of him last year that I had no desire to be associated with. When he was saying all that awful shit to you guys, there was no part of me that wanted someone like that in my life. How the fuck could I, you know? How could any decent human?”

He’s silent for a moment, appearing to mull over my words before asking, “But?”

I cock my head. “What do you mean,but?”

“You were speaking in past tense.” When I frown, he adds, “When talking about all the shit he said and what he did, you said there was no part of you thatwantedhim in your life.”

I hadn’t realized I’d even done it, to be honest. But now that it’s staring me dead in the face, the reason is obvious: The person I knew Avery to be last year and the guy I spent the entire summer with are two entirely different people.

Now I’m struggling like hell to determine which one of them is real.

Ah, shit. So much for playing it off.

Letting out a long exhale, I meet his gaze and level him with as much earnestness as I can muster. “I hope you know I’m on your side when it comes to what happened last spring at Family Night.”

If possible, the indent between his brows deepens. “I’m aware. Why would I think any differently?”

“Because I spent the entire summer with Avery at Alpine Ridge?”

I’m not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from him, but it certainly isn’t him throwing his head back in laughter.

“You’re telling me the same Avery Reynolds who was our teammate the past three years spent the entire summer wrangling rugrats with you in the wilderness?”

Only half of the summer, actually, thanks to his dad.

But I just answer with a soft “yep” instead.

“Well, that had to be interesting,” Keene muses, still laughing. “I can’t imagine him anywhere outside of a country club or marina with a bunch of fancy yachts.”

“He wore boat shoes the first day we went hiking,” I say automatically, the memory swirling in the forefront of my mind. Of course, it’s quickly paired with the moment on the dock when I helped him care for the wounds he stubbornly self-inflicted, and soon enough, I’m replaying every moment of the six weeks I spent out there with him.

The bad ones hurt to think about, yeah. But it’s the good ones that sting the most, like antiseptic on a fresh, gaping wound.

“Talk about a fish out of water,” Keene jokes, a little smirk on his lips.

With my mind still lingering in the memories from the mountains, I don’t have it in me to offer him more than a half-heartedhmph.

That’s when Keene’s laser-like focus feels more like a scalpel carving into me when he murmurs, “There’s something else you’re not saying.”

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