Adorkable (8 page)

I tried not to smile but failed. “You look plenty spry to me, old-timer.”

“Why thank you, Miss Spitz.” Walking toward me, Clayton had all the self-assurance of his younger brother plus a healthy dose of Southern charm that hadn’t deserted him, even after he’d come back with a Sport Management degree from U Mass. He was my favorite of Becks’s siblings, mainly because when I was a kid he always used to buy me scratch-offs and let me drive his jeep around the cul-de-sac when no one was looking. “So, what’s the story?”

I looked up as he stopped at my side. “What do you mean?”

“You and Becks,” he laughed, meeting my eyes. “After all this time, you two just up and got it together? You didn’t actually think I’d believe that.”

“Why not?” I said defensively. That was one too many non-believers for me to stomach. “Why is that so hard to believe? Am I not good enough or something?”

“Now hang on there a minute,” he said, pulling me into a one-armed hug. “That’s not it, and you know it. If anyone’s too good, it’s you, Sally. Becks and you, you and Becks? It’s just a little sudden that’s all.”

Jeez, now he sounded just like Hooker.

Becks sauntered over and propped his hands on his hips.

With a nod to the arm across my shoulders, he said, “Putting the moves on my girlfriend already? Moving a little fast there aren’t you brother?”

I wanted to laugh but caught myself. “Jealous” Becks was immensely entertaining.

Clayton stepped back, hands held high like he’d committed a crime. “Sorry, Becks, didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Well, I do.” Becks smiled, sidling up next to me. “Sal wouldn’t go for you anyway.”

“Why not?” Clayton said dryly. “I’m older, wiser.”

“Yeah, this close to geriatric.”

“Plus, I’m like ten times hotter than you, Baldwin Eugene.”

I could’ve argued that, but it was way more fun listening to them banter.

“Clayton,” Becks sighed. “If I thought you were serious, we might have a problem. I’d have to go all Hulk on your ass, and then what? I’d be green, left in nothing but a pair of shredded soccer shorts, and Sal would freak.”

Clayton faked a yawn.

“And anyway,” Becks pointed out, “you treat her like a kid sister.”

“Yeah, but that was before she got to looking so fine.”

I laughed as Clayton waggled his eyebrows at me, but Becks frowned.

“Say that again, and I’ll kick your ass.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. See you two love birds later.” Chuckling, he threw a few parting words over his shoulder. “And if Mom had seen that look you just gave me, she’d skin your hide, Becks. Possessive people never prosper. Don’t let him boss you around, Sally.”

Becks waited until Clayton was out of earshot and then turned to me.

“How was that?” he asked, his face full of mischief.

Honestly, besides being momentarily speechless, I was amazed. He’d really sounded jealous, especially near the end there.

“Great,” I said, glancing at the bleachers. Hooker was staring down at us like a hawk, slumped back in the same spot where I’d left her. Meeting my eyes, she lifted a brow in challenge. That small movement said it all. “But I’m not sure it was enough.”

“What?”

“Becks, we seem to have a problem.” Seeing his confusion, I explained, “Hooker doesn’t believe you and me are actually a couple. She’s not buying it, and neither was Clayton until about five seconds ago. I’m still not sure he’s fully converted.”

“So, what should we do?”

“I don’t know,” I said at a loss. “It’s not like I really thought this through beforehand. The situation just sort of dropped into my lap, perfectly packaged with a little bow on top.” Becks’s lips pulled into a half-smile, and I rolled my eyes. “Oh, you know what I mean. Most everyone who heard that rumor accepted the fact that we’re together, end of story. Hannah Thackeray even said it was inevitable. But it’s the people who’ve known us forever that are questioning it, and those are exactly the ones we’ve got to win over—”

“Sal...”

“—It can’t be that hard. I just need to think of a way—”

“Sal,” Becks said more forcefully, stopping me mid-rant. “Just leave it to me.”

I frowned. “But Becks, we need to talk about—”

“No more talk,” he said, leaning closer. “Lillian still watching?”

With a gulp, I peered around him. “Yes.”

“Good.”

My heart beat triple-time as Becks leaned even closer, eyes on mine. I started slightly at the feel of his hand on my jaw, struggling for breath as it slid to my cheek, fingers finally coming to rest at the base of my neck. Ducking, he placed a lingering kiss on the spot right below my ear. The move made my hand shoot out to grip his jersey. Becks laughed silently, little puffs of air hitting my neck, as I shivered.

I could hear the grin in his voice as he said, “You know, Sal, you can’t jump every time I touch you. What will people think?”

It took me two tries, but I eventually managed a breathless, “S-sorry.”

“Practice at my house tomorrow. Ten sharp,” he said as the whistle blew.

“Practice?” I said still dazed. “What—”

“
Becks
,” Crenshaw bellowed from the other side of the bench, “stop making eyes at your girlfriend, and get your butt back in the game.”

“Ten,” Becks said again, running backwards. “Don’t be late.”

I tried to snap out of it, giving my head a shake. All that did was muddle my thoughts even further. When I looked up at Hooker, she gave an exaggerated yawn, like the kiss had been nothing at all. Unimpressive, her eyes said, and when I got back to my seat, her words echoed the sentiment.

“It’s going to take a lot more than some dry peck to convince me,” she grumbled.

I gaped at her. Dry peck? What was she talking about? Granted, I wasn’t an expert—that kiss had been the extent of my romantic experience—but it’d turned my insides to mush. My skin still felt unnaturally hot where Becks’s mouth had been. I couldn’t forget the feel of his breath against my skin. Hooker was a lot more experienced than me, but that didn’t mean she was blind. Couldn’t she see how affected I was?

Glancing over at me, she shrugged. “Okay, okay. It was kind of hot, but Spitz, how
can
it be with Becks? You guys have been friends forever. It’s almost like if me and you started going out.”

“Hooker, no offense or anything,” I said, “but you’re not my type.”

“None taken,” she said back. “But really, you know everything about him. He knows everything about you. There’s no mystery.”

I flushed. “He doesn’t know everything about me.”

“Oh yeah? Name one thing he doesn’t know about you?”

The same thing you don’t, I thought but kept my mouth firmly shut.

“Exactly,” she said like she’d proven her point, and we sat back to watch the second half.

I tried to take good notes, recorded the plays as best I could, cross-referencing my list of terms, but it was useless. The butterflies in my stomach were relentless. No matter how much I tried to squash them, the darn things just wouldn’t die. Instead of watching the game, I kept replaying the kiss over and over. My hand would wander to the spot under my ear when I wasn’t looking, and I’d have to jerk it away before Hooker saw what a loser I was. The Trojans ended up winning five to two, with Becks scoring three out of the five goals and assisting Ash Stryker with the last goal, an at the buzzer header. I didn’t even need my cheat sheet for that one.

As the team headed for the lockers, I followed, trying not to feel awkward.

Becks and I had never been weird around each other before. Not even after I’d told him about my secret life-long crush on Lucius Malfoy from the
Harry Potter
series. That hair, the voice, that whole uptight baddie/aristocrat thing... It was embarrassing, but the guy was just yum. This couldn’t be any bigger than that, could it?

Yeah, right, I thought, hanging back. This was so much bigger than my Lucius confession. This wasn’t some fantasy; it was real life. The butterflies running amok in my insides could attest to that fact.

“You catch that last one, Spitz, or were you too busy staring at Mr. Wonderful?”

Grateful for the distraction, I pulled out my inner Southern Belle. “Well, goodness gracious sakes alive. Is
the
Ash Stryker, aka The Whip, speaking to little ol’ me?”

“Funny,” Ash said. “So did you see it or what?”

“Yeah, I saw. I always knew you had a hard head, Ash. Thanks for the proof.”

He scoffed.

We were getting closer and closer to Becks, so I decided to quit teasing. “Can I get a comment? That was a pretty sweet play.”

He came to a sudden stop. “
Pretty
sweet?”

“Alright,” I said, turning back around, “it was awesome, tremendous, truly masterful. That better?”

“Much.” Ash’s lips curved up in an almost smile. “Here’s a comment for you, Spitz. Becks needs to keep his head in the game. That’s the only way we’re going to win state again this year. Everyone’s gunning for us.”

“My head’s always in the game, Stryker.”

I jumped at the sound of Becks’s voice then felt like an idiot.

“Didn’t look that way at half-time,” Ash said.

“Whatever, man.” Becks came up beside me. “Why don’t you hit the showers? Sal and I need to talk.”

Ash shrugged then walked off.

“I really don’t like that guy,” Becks said, staring after him.

“He’s okay,” I said. Becks looked at me like I’d gone mental, which brought back the fluttering. Great, now I couldn’t even look him in the eye. I cleared my throat. “What’s this about Saturday? I can’t come at ten. You know I’ve got to work until noon.”

“Oh,” Becks said, leaning back, “Make it one then. I thought we could work on a few things. I mean, if we want people to take the boyfriend thing seriously, we need to make it as authentic as possible, right?”

“What things?”

He smiled at my nervousness. “You’ll see.”

His cryptic reply annoyed me enough to kill a few of the chest insects dead, but the smile brought them back to life full force. By the time I got them under control and met Hooker at the car, she was looking pretty ticked.

“It took you that long to get a couple of lame quotes?” was the first thing she said as we got in the car.

“I was talking to Becks,” I retorted.

“Becks,” she repeated as if she’d never heard the name. “Becks, your boyfriend?”

I gritted my teeth. Her absolute refusal to believe my perfectly good lie was starting to get to me. “That’s the one.”

“You know what Spitz, there’s this guy named Alex. He’s a tattoo artist. I think you guys’d really hit it off.”

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Or if you’re into athletes, there’s John Poole. He goes to school with Will, pitcher for the Tarheels. Great guy, real smart. I could introduce—”

“Hooker,” I interrupted, “I appreciate the offer, but I have a boyfriend. Becks is pretty laid back, but I’m not sure he’d be too happy about me dating other guys.”

Hooker sniffed and reached between us to turn on the radio.

Whatever Becks had planned had better be good, I thought. It was clear Hooker wasn’t going to hang up her matchmaking gloves without a fight. When we pulled up in front of her house, she shifted to face me instead of getting out immediately.

I killed the engine. Going by her thoughtful expression, we were going to be here for a bit.

“But it’s just so weird,” she said finally.

“What is?” I asked.

“You and Becks.”

“And why is that weird? We hang out all the time. We’ve been friends forever. There’s no one I trust more, except maybe you and Mom.”

“That’s my point.” She grimaced. “It’s almost incestuous, like he’s your brother or something.”

I snorted. “Becks is
so
not my brother.”

“Yeah, but he acts like he is.” Hooker’s tone turned philosophical. “This is what comes from watching too many episodes of
Star Trek
. It’s just not healthy. Next thing you know you’ll be wearing doughnuts over your ears and calling yourself Princess Spitz.”

“Firstly,” I said, “that’s
Star Wars
, not
Star Trek
.” Hooker wasn’t a big fan of The Force. “And secondly, Leia and Luke were never romantically involved. It’s a common misconception. Skywalker wasn’t her guy. For Leia, it was always Han Solo, nobody else.”

She shook her head, lip curled in faint disgust. “You watch way too many movies, you know that?”

“And you don’t watch enough to make that kind of comparison,” I countered.

“Alright,” she said, “I’ll concede that. But…Becks? Really?”

I nodded.

“Not in an ‘I like him’ kind of way…in the ‘I love him’ way?” She was studying my face a little too closely, and I began to sweat. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it Spitz? You’re in love with the guy? Becks is your Han Solo?”

My throat closed up tight, holding back the words, but I knew this might be the only thing that would make Hooker believe.

“Yeah,” I said, voice hoarse, looking her dead in the eye. “He is.”

A moment went by in which Hooker continued to stare, presumably weighing my words, and I continued to sweat. Then, out of nowhere, she laughed.

“God, Spitz,” she said. “You are such a liar.” Getting out of the car, she waved goodbye. “I’ll call you later.”

I waved back, nearly overwhelmed by the relief. Of course, I wanted Hooker to believe my little lies. Stopping the epidemic of blind dates was the point of this plan and fooling her was integral to its success. But when I’d concocted the F.B.F. idea, I hadn’t been thinking clearly. Everything had happened so fast, that I hadn’t had a moment to consider the catch, the huge snag I’d missed when I’d so carelessly asked Becks to be my F.B.F. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that I’d be revealing any of my secrets.

Hooker had called me a liar, and I’d told enough lies in the past few hours that it was basically true. Funny thing was I hadn’t been lying at the time. It was my deepest, most well-kept, I-would-just-die-if-this-ever-got-out secret. One I hadn’t revealed to a single soul.

Becks was totally my Han Solo.

Even if he didn’t know it.