Adorkable (19 page)

“I’m fine,” I said. “Where’s Mercedes? Seems like she might want first crack at you after we’ve broken up.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he said. “That girl is relentless, Sal.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” I mumbled.

“Relentless,” he repeated. “Are you mad at me or something?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re glaring hard enough to burn a hole through my chest.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” Becks said, lifting my chin. “You are.”

I tried to look indifferent but don’t think I succeeded. The picture of Mercedes sitting on his lap was still right there, blazing bright in my head. I couldn’t help but be mad at her for what she’d done and at Becks for what he didn’t do.

“You know, it’s not my fault Mercedes sat in my lap.”

“Yeah, but you could’ve thrown her off.”

“I did. You just ran off too fast to catch it.”

“Not right away, though.”

Becks shook his head, running a hand along his stubbly jaw. “I just didn’t want to hurt her feelings, Sal. What can I do to make it up to you?”

I said nothing. It was probably true, but what a lame excuse.

“There’s got to be something you want,” he coaxed. “I’ll do anything.”

I watched him through narrowed eyes. “That’s a big offer.”

“I mean it, Sal, whatever you want.” He held up his hands. “Just please, stop looking at me like that.”

“Hey, you guys almost done? I really need to use the restroom.”

Rick Smythe was doing what I liked to call the pee-pee dance, legs clenched standing behind Becks, hopping from one foot to the other. I knew right then what I wanted. Turning, I grabbed a towel and a couple of things from the counter then stepped out of the room.

“It’s all yours,” I said.

Rick said, “Thanks, Bally,” slapped a hand to Becks’s cheek and waddled inside, pulling the door closed after him.

“Decide what you want yet?” Becks asked.

I nodded, smiling wide. “Follow me to the kitchen, please.”

“You sure you don’t want to think on it some more?”

“Nope.”

“That was fast,” Becks muttered. “What’s that razor for? Should I be nervous?”

“A little fear never hurt anyone,” I threw back, making him suffer.

People were drifting in and out, but the kitchen was mostly empty. All the food for the party, the music, the dancing was in the living room, so nobody stuck around for long. The kitchen was like everything else in the house: huge, wide-open, and more than a bit obnoxious.

Looking around for a place to sit, there were only two options, the dining table or the countertop. I guessed Mercedes had cleared out all the chairs before the party. Since it would put me right next to the sink, I picked the counter. Becks was much taller, so it’d also help make up for the height difference.

“Sal, what are you doing?” Becks looked on as I tried to lever myself up. I was on my third attempt.

“What does it look like?” I huffed, jumping and sliding right back down. On second thought, maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. Stupid rich people and their stupid high counters.

He sighed, walked over and gripped my waist. I gasped as he lifted and placed me on the counter on the first try, as if I weighed nothing at all.

I’d been right. Height was no longer an issue. In fact, with Becks’s hands still attached to my waist, I was only inches away from his beautiful eyes, staring straight into them, the ones that pulled me in. I caught myself leaning closer, and shifted back.

“Thanks,” I said, looking away, grabbing for the shaving cream like a lifeline. “You said anything, right?”

Becks nodded. “I did.”

“Okay. Then I want to shave it off.”

“
What
?” He dropped his hands, looking horrified.

I nodded to his face. “Your scruff.”

“Jeez,” he said, shoulders drooping. “Don’t scare me like that, Sal.”

“What’d you think I meant?” I laughed. “Your head?”

He nodded. “You were looking pretty pissed.”

“Nah, I love your hair too much for that.” Becks looked up sharply, and I played it off with another laugh. “So, will you let me do it? Shave your sacred five o’clock shadow?”

“You really don’t like it, do you?”

I waited.

“Sure.” Becks shrugged. “Why not? There’s not another game until next week. The luck’ll still work if I don’t shave again past Wednesday.”

Pouring some cream into my hands, I got a good lather going and spread it gently across his cheeks. “It’s got nothing to do with luck, Becks. You’d win even without this.”

“But why chance it?”

I shook my head, rinsed my hands then filled a bowl with water, placing it at my side. “I just hate that you can’t see how talented you are. Why won’t you believe me?”

“I want to, Sal. Really, I do. It’s just I’m not willing to take a chance on something so important and lose.” He tried to catch my gaze. “If I was wrong, the fallout would be too painful. You know what I mean?”

I did. That was exactly how I felt about my love for Becks. I really wanted him to feel the same, but I’d never risk losing him as a friend. That wouldn’t just be painful; it’d most likely kill me. How could I live without having Becks there with me, to talk to and laugh with? There was just too much at stake.

“I get it.” Light gleamed off the razor’s blade as I picked it up, tucking my right leg beneath me to get more comfortable. “I still disagree. You and I both know you’d win without this beard, but I understand what you’re saying. You ready?”

“Yep,” he said.

“You’re going to have to come a little closer.”

“Like this?” Becks moved so he was only a hairsbreadth away.

My throat went dry. “That’s good.”

I could make out his grin through the foam.

“Listen, I’ve never done this before, so you’re going to have to stay still.”

“No movement, got it.” Just as I was about to put the razor to his cheek, he smiled. “Great song.”

“Becks,” I warned.

He stopped talking.

As I raised the blade to his skin, I realized he was right. This song was great, setting the mood perfectly, slow and lazy, filled with repressed emotion. The rasp of the singer’s voice, Becks’s closeness, the whole situation left me feeling raw, exposed. I’d never realized how intimate shaving could be.

My hand shook on the first stroke, leaving a long, untidy line of bare skin. I traced it with the tip of my finger, watching Becks’s lids flutter. Silky smooth.

His reaction satisfied me in a way I couldn’t explain.

The second pass of the razor revealed more skin, the next even more. A glimpse of cheekbone. A hint of jaw. I tried to keep my breathing steady, but Becks wasn’t making it easy. Despite his promise, he did move. Barely—less than an inch—but it was enough. Becks swayed toward me every time I leaned in. It was like he couldn’t help it.

Sort of like I couldn’t help touching each patch of newly uncovered flesh.

I was close enough to count his eyelashes, to see the tiny scar in his eyebrow that he’d gotten falling off his bike in sixth grade. There was something powerful about the way his eyes followed my every move. After tonight, I wouldn’t be able to touch him like this, so I took my time. I’d miss him being my F.B.F.

“So,” I said about half-way through, “pick a college yet?”

Becks gave me a look.

“Okay, okay. It was worth a shot.” Pisszilla was not going to be happy, but I had more immediate concerns. “How’re we going to do this anyway? The break up. I know you said big and public. We want to do it in front of the most people possible, right?”

Becks couldn’t say anything. I was being very cautious around his lips.

Dipping the shaver in the bowl, I shook off the excess foam then went back to work—and rambling.

“Are you going to break up with me? Or am I breaking up with you? Are we supposed to fight or not? We never really talked about it, Becks.”

“Sal,” he murmured.

Noticing a small area I’d missed, I titled his head and placed the blade gently against his jaw.

“Sal, I don’t think we should break up.”

I was so surprised my hand slipped, and he winced.

“Oh God,” I said, grabbing the towel, dabbing at his cut. It was small, but those always hurt the most. “I’m so sorry, Becks. Are you alright?”

“It’s fine.” He covered my hand with his. “I cut myself shaving all the time.”

“Sorry.” Pulling my hand away, I let him wipe off the left-over cream. I couldn’t have heard right. “What did you just say? Becks, you were the one who said this would be the perfect place.”

“I know.” He laid the cloth aside.

“We have to ease people into it. Those were your words.”

“I remember.”

“Well? What changed?”

Becks locked eyes with me. “Do you really love my hair?”

The question threw me. “It’s not horrible.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Becks shook his head, gliding a hand across my cheek. “I don’t think we should break up.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

My voice was paper thin. “Why?”

“Well, the fake boyfriend thing has worked out pretty good so far. Don’t you think?”

I couldn’t speak as he leaned even closer.

“And there are some advantages.”

Before I could ask what those were, his lips were on mine. Becks’s fingers threaded into my hair, the other hand at my waist, his mouth warm, caressing. I could feel the kiss down to my bones. It rippled through me, his passion, and my love for him rose up to meet it. Like waves crashing, we tangled together, mixing, melting into each other. It was the first time Becks had ever kissed me,
really
kissed me, and for a few seconds afterward, I couldn’t speak. He’d stolen my breath.

“Becks,” I gasped, eyes closed, his forehead pressed against mine. I was so happy; my voice shook.

“Hmm?”

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

He laughed roughly. “Me either.”

As I opened my eyes, his were still shut, a small smile on his lips as he played with the ends of my hair. I turned my head and caught flash of bright green by the door. Mercedes.

“Oh.” I pulled away, heart sinking. “I get it now.”

“Get what?” Becks said.

“This was for her.” As Becks followed my gaze, the girl jumped and hurried away. With each tap of her heels, I felt another pang go through me. “Good one, Becks. You were really convincing.”

“Yeah,” he said, back still to me, “convincing.”

“That’s what this was, wasn’t it? What you said, that kiss, it was just you being a great fake boyfriend.” In my mind, I begged him to say no. To tell me I was wrong. Please, please, let me be wrong. “This was all just part of the plan to convince her.”

Becks studied my face. There was an odd little frown on his mouth, but it disappeared as he grinned. “Of course, it was. Jeez, Sal, don’t look so worried. Was she watching the whole time?”

“Not sure,” I said, smile wavering. My eyes felt wet, but I wouldn’t let the tears fall. “You know, I didn’t realize we had an audience.”

Becks shrugged, his eyes watching me carefully. “Why else would I kiss you?”

That hit home.

Jumping from the counter, I rushed for the front door. I heard Becks call my name but didn’t pause. Getting away was the only option. Otherwise, he’d see me cry, and that wasn’t going to happen, not over this. I wasn’t stupid. I’d known Becks didn’t love me, but having it confirmed, having it said so plainly after that amazing kiss, I couldn’t take it.

Becks caught my arm on the last step of the porch. “Sal, what’s wrong?”

I didn’t know if it was his touch or the stupid question, but something sparked a fire inside me.

Spinning around, I let it all out. My frustration, my anger, my love, the truth, the words poured from my lips like a waterfall. I told him how mad I was that he’d kissed me just for Mercedes’s benefit, how I wanted him as my real boyfriend not a fake one, how I’d loved him all my life and what an idiot he was for not noticing. I told him everything I’d been afraid to tell him over the years.

And true to form, I said it all in German.

Whenever my blood was up, it became my native tongue. There was something freeing in saying everything out loud, and I did it without fear or restraint, knowing that neither Becks nor any of the bystanders looking would understand what I was saying. And there were plenty of those. Half the party seemed to have followed us onto the front lawn, watching as I ranted at Becks like a mad woman.

When I came to the end, I was breathing heavy, and Becks looked more shocked than I’d ever seen him.

“Sal…” He reached for me again, but I backed away.

“No, Becks.” I was back to English. I wanted him to understand this time. “I can’t do this anymore. Let’s call it off, okay?”

“But Sal, I—”

“It’s over.” I shook my head. He’d wanted big and public, and the crowd around us was hanging on every word, silent enough you could hear crickets chirping. Guess he’d gotten his wish. “It’s just…over.”

As I turned to walk away, I ran straight into Ash Stryker. He was staring at me, wearing an odd expression. I supposed I’d better get used to people looking at me like that.

“Sorry,” I muttered, stepping around him, making my way over to Hooker. Her mouth was hanging open, and she looked nearly as devastated as I felt. “Can you give me a lift?”

She immediately snapped to attention. Shooting a glare at Becks, she linked her arm through mine and said, “Sure thing, Spitz.’’

Hooker led me away from the crowd, and I was glad. At that point, her arm was the only thing keeping me on my feet.

The F.B.F. plan was officially null and void. I’d actually told Becks the truth, in a language he couldn’t understand, but I’d done it. On Monday, everything would be back to normal, no more Bally, no more lies, just me and Becks as we’d always been, best friends. It was a good thing, a
great
thing, a relief.

But then why did I feel like I’d taken a wrecking ball to the chest?

There was a light knock at the door.

I grunted, burrowing deeper under the covers. My bed was a safe place, my cocoon, and I wasn’t leaving until someone forced me out.