Adorkable (23 page)

Not like they’d let him.

The two seemed to be in an all-out battle to see who could do the best, score the most. It was amazing to watch Ash try and rise up to Becks’s level. The Whip had already been a force to be reckoned with, but this was something else. Becks ended up outscoring him in the second round but not the third—which I could tell disturbed him greatly.

The day after it happened, Becks came up to me and said, “Did you go to the movies with Ass Striker?”

I shut my locker, doing a mental eye roll at the name. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“The jerk tweeted it,” he said in disgust.

“He did?” I couldn’t hide my surprise. “What did he say?”

Becks held his phone out to me, and I scanned the screen.

The account was for @AshTheWhip24/7, and it said: “Scream Deluxe, popcorn, and a hot older woman at my side. Doesn’t get better than that.”

I laughed. Ash was such a goober.

“Sal, we were supposed to go see that one together.”

It was true. Becks was a huge fan of horror, but Ash had asked me first, and like he said, I couldn’t wait around forever. I wouldn’t. Becks’s puppy dog eyes had always worked on me in the past, but now I was a rock. Stone cold, hard, impassive. I just wished he didn’t look so disappointed in me.

I shrugged. “We can go see it again if you want, but I might have to check and see if I’m doing anything with Ash.”

“What’s up with that?” he said in exasperation. “Is he your babysitter now? Sal, you hate Twitter. Just last year you called the people who do it ‘online attention seekers with no life.’ What happened?”

You, I thought. You happened, and now I’m on this stupid mission to make you see me as a girl and to give someone who actually likes me a shot, and it’ll probably go nowhere, but I’m going to try my best anyway. Call me what you like, but Sally Spitz was no quitter.

“So Ash tweets,” I said. “It’s not that big a deal. I accept him for who he is, and he accepts me for who I am.”

“Hmph,” Becks said and then stalked off without a backward glance.

Later on, the coach was drilling them hard. This would be the last practice before the semis, and he wanted his team both mentally and physically prepared. They’d been at it a full hour and a half before he let them have their first break.

Ash jogged up to me, hair plastered to his head with sweat, muscles shifting beneath his skin, his shirt long gone.

“Hey,” he said, pulling me into a very warm, very wet hug.

“Ugh,” I laughed, then whispered, “when I agreed to go out with you, I don’t think sweaty hugs were part of the deal.”

“They totally were.” He released me with a tug on my ponytail. “Fine print, Spitz. Never forget to read it. You’ll be sorry if you do.”

“I heard about your tweet.”

“Who’d you hear that from, I wonder?” Ash looked pleased. “Tell me, was he crying when he told you? Did he get down on one knee right there, sweep you into his arms, and ask you to forgive him for being such a loser?”

“Hey,” I said, “no calling Becks a loser. We talked about this.”

“Alright, alright,” he said. “I’m working on it.”

“He’s my best friend, Ash. And if we’re going to be friends, you need to work harder.”

“I said okay.” Ash crossed his arms. “So I assume this means you’re still in love with—”

“Shhh!” I hissed, clapping a hand over his mouth. “He might hear you.”

Ash stared at me balefully until I removed my hand. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he mumbled.

A second later Becks was there at my side, drawing me into my second sticky hug of the day. Despite the sweat, I closed my eyes, couldn’t bring myself to pull away, sinking into him like home. It’d been a while since Becks touched me.

“Hey, Sal,” Becks murmured, tightening his hold.

“Becks,” I sighed. He really did give the best hugs.

Who knows how long I might’ve stayed there (probably forever) if Ash hadn’t chosen that moment to grunt, a loud and piercing sound that cut through my Becks haze.

Shaking myself out of his embrace, I tried to stop the blush from stealing up my cheeks. From Becks’s smile and Ash’s faint look of disapproval, I could tell I was unsuccessful.

“Mount Tabor doesn’t stand a chance,” I said to fill the awkward silence. “You guys look really great out there.”

“Why thank you, Spitz.” Ash smiled. “You’re looking good yourself.”

“I-I didn’t—”

“No need to stutter.” Looking down at himself, he flexed which brought even more heat to my face. “Many a woman has admired my physique.”

Becks snorted, crossing his arms, his own muscles contracting with the movement.

The cheerleaders threw catcalls our way; a couple nearly swooned and I couldn’t even blame them. I was about to pass out myself. I kept switching from Becks to Ash, Ash to Becks, chest to chest, but no matter where I looked there was more skin. With that much excellent male flesh on display, what’s a girl to do?

Ash was smirking at me, and Becks didn’t seem too thrilled about it.

Looking between us, one eyebrow cocked, Becks said, “You two are pretty close then, huh?”

He’d addressed the question to me, so I answered, “Yeah, we’re getting there.”

“Very close,” Ash agreed, coming up beside me, placing a hand on my back. He dropped a quick kiss to my hair, and Becks winced.

“How’s that going?” was Becks’s next question.

“Great.” I gulped. No need to tell him Ash was turning out to be more of a friend than a boyfriend. There was absolutely no need to tell Becks there was no spark. Not like I’d felt with him.

“Great,” he repeated, staring me down. “It’s strange don’t you think? How quick you two came together.”

“Sometimes you just know,” Ash said.

Becks grunted.

I was still having hallucinations from all the nakedness, so I was glad Ash was on top of things.

“Spitz has everything I’m looking for,” Ash went on. “She’s way too smart for me, but I love her quirky sense of humor. It doesn’t hurt that she’s beautiful.”

Stupidly, I felt flattered. Sure, it was a bunch of crap, but crap or not, Ash was good at flattery.

“So I assume she’s shown you her CWC.”

“Becks,” I hissed. Nothing could’ve snapped me to attention quicker.

“Her what?” Becks grinned at Ash’s confused expression. “Spitz, what’s a CWC?”

“Go ahead,” Becks prompted. “Show him, Sal.”

Oh, he was
so
dead. I was fairly sure steam was coming out of my ears, and it had nothing to do with the midday heat.

“What’s wrong, Sal? You said you two were close.” He shrugged, shooting me that same infuriating smile. “Just thought he’d like to see some of your hidden talents.”

“Hidden talents?” Ash asked. “Is CWC slang for something—” He ran his fingers down my spine, and I jumped up in shock. “—‘cause if it is, I’d be happy to see whatever you’ve got to show me.”

“You disgust me,” Becks spat.

“And you bug the hell out of me,” Ash replied. “We’re even. By the way, that lucky beard is stupid.”

“And so are you. I guess we’re even there, too.”

“A real soccer player wouldn’t need to rely on tricks to win a game. Some of us get by on natural talent.”

“Shut up, Stryker.” Becks’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“I know we don’t need some dumb fairytale to help us win State,” he said and before Becks could say anything else, “Spitz? You gonna show me or what?”

They were both looking at me expectantly.

“C’mon,” Becks said, his frown dissolving into a slow smile. “We worked on it for weeks in fifth grade, remember?”

“What?” Ash said in shock. “Fifth grade? That’s pretty young isn’t it?”

“Fine,” I sighed.

It’d be better to just get it over with, and someone had to get Ash’s mind out of the gutter. Drawing in a deep breath, rolling my eyes at Becks’s grin, I titled my head up and released a sound somewhere between bird mating call and dying dog. It lasted all of ten seconds before I ran out of air.

“Wow,” Becks said, sounding like he meant it. “That was great, Sal.”

“I know, right?” I smiled. Instead of feeling the waves of embarrassment I expected, I was proud of myself. That was one of the best Wookiee calls I’d ever done.

“What’d you think, Ash?” Seeing his perplexed expression, I said, “CWC stands for Chewbacca’s Wookiee Call. Becks and I learned how to do it off this online tutorial.” I smirked at Becks, “But he couldn’t even get the first note right.”

“Hey,” Becks said indignant, “I could outdo your Vader any day.” And then he proceeded to demonstrate the fact, grinning afterward as I gave a silent round of applause. He was a good Darth—raspy voice, low and menacing—but he couldn’t do Chewie to save his life.

“I thought it was ‘Luke, I am your father,’“ Ash said.

“Amateur.” Becks switched his focus to Ash, a challenge in his eyes. “What can you do, Stryker?”

If I didn’t like him more than anything, I’d have said Becks was being a real jerk to Ash. But The Whip refused to be intimidated. Ash pursed his lips, looking around a moment. Walking a few steps, he grabbed up a lacrosse stick and waited until he had our full attention.

Lifting that stick high in the air, he scowled at nothing then gripped it between both hands and bellowed, “
You shall not pass
!” He drove the stick into the ground with all his might, arms quivering with the force of impact.

After a moment, I said, “I didn’t know you do Gandalf. That’s one of my favorites.”

Ash chucked the stick back to where it’d come from, sauntering over with a grin. “It’s nothing.”

“No, that was awesome. Wasn’t it Becks?” I turned but Becks wasn’t there anymore. He’d rejoined the team on the field. The whistle blew and the coach called the stragglers back to practice.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ash said, but I did. I couldn’t help it.

Mount Tabor went down fighting, but between Becks and Ash, there was no contest. I’d waited until after school to approach Becks and congratulate him. He’d been surrounded all day. It was Becks’s senior year, and he was in a good way to get State MVP and win yet another championship. Some athletes crumbled beneath the pressure but not my Becks. I was so proud of him; I could barely see straight.

After Roxy finally left (she’d been talking his ear off, flashing him her cleavage for about fifteen minutes), I walked over to Becks, finding him in one of those rare moments that he was alone.

He’d zipped his bag, and I’d opened my mouth, wearing a smile just for him, when he said, “If this is about Stryker, I don’t want to hear it.”

I recoiled. “I just came over to say great job,” I said. “You did it, Becks. CHS has a chance at State, third year in a row.”

“Thanks, I know,” he said. “Was there something else?”

“No.” Again, I was taken aback. Who was this cold person, and what had they done with my Becks? “I’m…I’m proud of you. That’s all.”

Becks looked at me for a long moment.

“Ash said you guys are likely to win if you can—”

“If you’re going to talk about Ash, don’t talk to me.”

“Becks…”

“See ya,” he said, turning away. No Sal, no grin, nothing.

Ash came up behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, Spitz, want to go to a party tonight?”

I was too numb to speak, so instead I listened to Ash as he invited me to another one of Mercedes’s parties. It was supposed to be bigger and better than any of the others so far, a real celebration since Chariot had made it to the final round. He said that everyone was going. I must’ve agreed, though I definitely didn’t remember doing so.

Hooker had come to my house to fix my hair and make-up, and Ash drove us to Mercedes’s house. We got there late, the party already half-over when we arrived. That was mostly my doing. I’d taken a lot of time getting ready, so I wouldn’t have to stay long. Ash hadn’t minded. “Just an appearance,” he’d said. “We’ll just make an appearance then leave.” I was still wary. My last visit to Mercedes’s house had ended in heartbreak, tears, and a lot of German swearing. I was determined not to let that happen again.

But the first thing I saw when I walked inside was Becks sitting slumped between two girls I’d never met before. They were both smiling, happy as all get out to be that close to the man that was going to lead Chariot to its next victory.

The sight made my anger rise—not at them, but at myself.

Becks looked horrible. His eyes were downcast, his beard looked a little rougher than usual, and his head drooped on his shoulders. Was this what having a boyfriend meant? Leaving all my other friends behind? I didn’t even know what was bothering him. Seeing him in that state made me hate myself a little.

“I’m going to go get myself something to drink,” Ash said into my ear, “you want anything?”

I shook my head.

“Be right back.” He dashed off without another word.

As if he’d been waiting for Ash to leave, Becks lifted his head, his eyes going straight to mine. What had put that sadness there? I wondered as he rose and walked up to me.

“Sal,” he said, voice soft.

“Becks.”

“You want to dance?”

“Sure,” I said, taking his hand. The contact still sent tingles running through me.

We made our way to the center of the living room where other couples were already dancing. I hardly noticed. After Becks put his hands on my waist, my arms reaching up to twine around his neck, I was gone. It was just him and me. Nothing else mattered.

“Sorry about earlier,” he said.

“That’s okay.” I rested my cheek against his chest and felt the strong beat of his heart, steady, sure. “I’m sorry you’re so sad,” I said quietly.

Becks sighed, pulling me closer. “I’m not sad, Sal.”

“You’re not?”

After a moment, Becks whispered, “I miss you.”

I swallowed heavily as he rested his cheek against my hair. “Me, too.”

We didn’t say anything else, didn’t have to. Mercedes must’ve had a party playlist or something because the song we were dancing to now was the same one that’d been playing when I’d given Becks his shave. The soundtrack to the first (and only) kiss he’d ever given me. I’d never forget that song.

As the final notes died away, Becks and I separated.