Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl (16 page)

Prettier wasn’t really what I was getting at, but I crack a tiny smile. “You took it one step too far with the ‘and beyond.’ Up until then, you had me.”

He frowns, looking kind of sad and very unlike Beck. Usually, he’s all about the smiles unless his dad’s being a dick.

“Are you okay? You seem sad suddenly.”

“I’m fine. It’s just that …” He unexpectedly laces his fingers through mine and yanks me down the porch and across the backyard. “Come on. I promised you a fun night, and I’m ruining it by being mopey.”

I want to ask him why he suddenly went from rainbows and sunshine to depressing rain cloud, but I get distracted as he lets go of my hand and hops over the fence.

“Where are we going again?” I ask as I hoist myself over the fence and land in the field beside him.

He glances up at the glittering stars and the moon. Then he snags my hand and takes off across the field. “I’m not sure yet. Somewhere quiet … where we can talk and watch the eclipse without any interruptions.”

I peek back at his two-story house. The lights are like fireflies sparkling in the darkness, and the music is nothing more than a murmur. Peace. I feel so at peace right now, something I never expected to happen tonight. Maybe ever.

“What about Ari, Luna, and Grey?” I return my attention to Beck. “Maybe we should text them to see if they want to come out here. Ari’s really into astronomy. He’ll probably want to see it.”

“Ari already knows about the eclipse,” he replies, looking up at the sky. “He’s the one who told me about it.”

“Okay.” I peer up at the sky, smiling as the stars dance in circles. Then I look at Beck and remember what happened the last time we wandered off alone at a party. “Still, maybe we should text him to see if he wants to come out here. The view is amazing. He’d love it.”

“It looks the same anywhere else.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “I want to hang out with just you for a little while, okay?”

Nerves bubble inside me as I think about the last time Beck and I wandered off like this. His lips touched mine, a butterfly kiss that made me completely, blissfully happy and entirely terrified. The day after was when I decided to limit our time together, to stop relying on him so much, to not set myself up for heartbreak.

Yet here we are again. Alone. Together.

It always comes back to him. Why is that?

Despite my apprehension, I allow him to guide me across the grassy field, our final destination unknown. Knowing Beck, we could end up anywhere. Vegas. Mexico. Locked in a closed theater for an entire night, which yes, actually happened once and was as fun as it sounds.

“Where’s your head at, Wills?” Beck asks, tightening his hold on my hand.

“I was just thinking about stuff.”
You. Us.

“What kind of stuff?” He hikes deeper into the field, and I follow him without a second thought. “You’re not worrying about money and school and shit, are you? I told you that you weren’t allowed to do that tonight.” He turns, walking backward, and gestures at the sky. “This is a worry-free night. No stress allowed. In fact, you’re only allowed to appreciate everything that is peaceful and beautiful.”

“I’m trying to, but it’s hard not to worry sometimes.”
About you. Us.

He tsks at me, swaying from side to side.

I try not to laugh.
He’s so drunk.

Seconds later, I stumble over a rock and nearly fall on my face.

Okay, maybe I’m so drunk.

He giggles at my clumsiness, and a very unattractive snort erupts from my lips, which only causes him to giggle like a hyena.

“See? Fun, right?” he asks after his laughter dies down.

I nod, grasping his hand. “Yep. But probably only because you’re here.”

He smiles, stopping in the field. The movement is so unexpected I crash into him, which leads to another fit of giggles from both of us.

After we stop acting like ditzy girls, the air quiets, and stillness settles over us.

Beck angles his head up to gaze at the stars, pulling me closer to his side and draping his arm across my shoulders. “How can you worry about anything when you have a view like this?” He kisses the side of my head for the second time tonight and calmness blankets over me, yet my heart contracts with a terrified sputter. “It’s like someone painted this just for us. Wouldn’t that be so cool? If someone actually painted the entire sky … What if that’s why the sky exists? What if someone just decided to paint it one day, and we’re just living in a canvas?”

I snort a laugh. “Dude, are you high? You sound so high right now.”

He draws me even closer until the sides of our bodies collide. “Nah. I’m just buzzed. And really, really happy.”

The happiness in his voice brings a smile to my face. “Well, I don’t want to ruin your dream of living in a canvas, but there’s a ton of proof that completely discounts your theory.”

He dips his mouth toward my ear. “Oh, come on; where’s your dreamer side?”

I shiver from the feeling of his breath and mentally curse myself. What’s the deal tonight? I’ve done that, like, five gazillion times!

“I don’t think I have a dreamer side,” I admit. “I’ve always been more of a realistic kind of girl.”

“No way. You have a dreamer inside you. I know you do.”

“Nah, I don’t really think I do—”

He turns, bringing me with him, and wraps his arms around my waist. “Yes, you do. And I’m going to prove it to you.” Then he begins to sway us around, dancing to music only he can hear.

I have no clue what he’s doing, but I dance with him, anyway, because I’m relaxed and calm and desperate to latch on to the feelings.

“Can you hear it?” he whispers in my ear.

Another shiver. Another confusing skip of my heart. “I don’t know …”

“Are you cold?” he asks, his breath feathering across my skin.

I manage not to shiver this time, but goose bumps and tingles sprout across my skin. “I’m not cold … I’m just ….” Confused. Lost. Weirded out. Clearing my throat, I loop my arms around his neck and shift the conversation elsewhere. “So, what am I supposed to be hearing? All I hear are crickets.”
And my heart beating like a freakin’ lunatic.

His hands find the small of my back, and he urges me closer to him. “The music, silly.”

“You can hear it all the way from the house?”

“No, not that music.
Our
music.”

“Our
music?” Huh?

Instead of answering, he starts to hum. And just like that, it clicks.

Our music. Our song. The first song we ever danced to back in seventh grade. We were at a dance and Beck, being his popular, outgoing self, had a line of girls waiting to dance with him. And I, being the shy, awkward girl I still am, spent most of the night hanging out near the punch bowl, watching my friends have fun until Beck took matters into his own hands.

“All right, no more of this.” He snatched the cup of punch from my hand and tossed it in the trash.

“Hey, I was drinking that,” I stupidly argued. The punch tasted like shit.

“No more standing around and being boring, Wills.” He grabbed my hand and guided me to the center of the dance floor.

“I’m not really a dancer.” I fiddled with my secondhand dress, trying not to freak the hell out as he dragged me into the crowd.

Hardly anyone was paying attention to us, but a few were, and that was enough to make me feel uncomfortable and worried. I had only danced behind closed doors. I’d probably look like a spaz.

“Sure you are.” He placed a hand on my back and guided me toward him until the tips of his boots clipped mine. Then he started moving, keeping up with the fast tempo of the pop song playing. “Everyone’s a dancer, even if they don’t know it.”

“Try telling that to that guy.” I nodded at a guy from our school who was flapping his arms like a crazed-out chicken.

Beck studied chicken-dancing dude with his head cocked to the side. “I think he’s pretty awesome.”

“You would because you could pull off those dance moves,” I said. “But I’d look like a freak if I tried something like that.”

“You never look like a freak,” he insisted, redirecting his attention to me. The music switched to a softer song, and we slowed down to match the beat. “I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself all the time.”

“I’m not hard on myself all the time.” Was I?

“Sorry, but you are, and it makes me sad.” He jutted out his lip. “See? So, so sad.”

I giggled, and he smiled proudly.

“There we go,” he said. “Don’t you feel better now that you’ve smiled?”

I nodded and inched closer to him, letting him lead us through the song. When it ended, I expected him to go back to his line of girls, but he danced us right into the next song. And the next. And the next.

I blink out of memory lane as Beck starts singing the lyrics of the song in a very off-key pitch.

I seal my lips together, suppressing a laugh. “You’re so tone deaf.”

“No way,” he argues then chuckles when his voice cracks on a high note. “Okay, maybe you’re kind of right.”

“
Kind of right
?” I question, and he playfully pinches my side. I laugh, but the way my stomach somersaults causes me to panic. I play it off, cool, calm, collected. At least, I think I do. “But at least you gave it a good effort like you do with everything.” I yammer nonsense as my eyelids grow heavy. “That’s one of my favorite things about you. You’re not afraid to do anything. And you always do what you want. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like you.” I yawn and, unable to keep my head up, rest my cheek on his shoulder. My eyelids start to lower. I seriously could fall asleep right now.

“I don’t always do what I want,” he whispers, breaking the silence.

The uncertainty in his tone makes me step back to get a better look at him.

“What’s wrong?” I search his face through the darkness. “You sound … I don’t know. Worried?” And vulnerable.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he mutters. “I don’t even know why I said that.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know when something’s bothering you.” I pause to give him a chance to answer then press, “Is your dad being a dick again? Do I need to do some ass kicking?”

“He did stop by tonight, but that’s not what’s bothering me right now.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I appreciate the offer to kick his ass, though. That might be funny to watch. And I’m pretty sure you’d win.” He laughs, but it sounds wrong. Forced.

I frown. “Then what’s wrong? I can tell something’s bothering you.”

“I’m okay. I promise. I’m just …” He studies me again. Then he moves back and sinks to the ground without letting go of my hand. “Sit down with me, and let’s stargaze.”

I open my mouth to press, but another yawn leaves my lips. Between the shots I took earlier and the late hours I’ve been up studying and working, I’m crashing hard.

Beck gently tugs on my hand. “Sit down, sleepy head, before you collapse.”

I glance down at the dress I’m wearing. “This is Wynter’s dress. I’m not sure if I should get it dirty. You know how she can get about clothes.”

“Who gives a shit if it gets ruined? Besides, she’s always mad at something. Come sit down with me and watch the stars. Live in the moment instead of in the future. And fuck Wynter and her stupid tantrums.”

Oh, Beck, if only life were that easy. Maybe if my future was set, I could stop stressing out so much. But I have no idea where I’ll be in three years, where I hope to be, which are two entirely different things.

Hope is so uncertain. My future is so uncertain. The only thing that isn’t uncertain is Beck’s and my friendship. Well, it used to be. Lately, there’s been a shift, a confusing, dangerous, against my rule shift.

I probably should leave. I can feel that shift hovering in the air right now. In fact, I know I should walk away. But I find myself dropping down onto the ground in front of him.

He immediately circles his arms around my waist and lures me back against him. Then he slips a leg on each side of me, surrounding me.

Ignoring the thundering of my heart, I rest back against his chest. “Can I ask you a question?”

He strokes his fingers up and down my side. “You can always ask me anything.”

“You and Wynter … You guys haven’t ever …?” I pause, thinking about what Ari said to me about their arguing being sexual tension. Then I think about what Titzi said, about Beck liking high-end girls, something Wynter definitely is. “Have you guys ever hooked up?”

What is wrong with me? Why the hell did I ask that?

“
What
? God, no,” he says, sounding appalled. “Why the hell would you even ask that?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. Apparently, I’m drunk, and that makes me act like a jealous idiot. “I was just curious, I guess. I’m not the only one who thinks that. Ari thinks you guys fight all the time because you secretly like each other. And you did have a crush on her once. You even kissed her.”

His arms tense. “That stupid kiss was just a silly, middle school thing. And yeah, I may have had a crush on her in elementary school, but that was a long-ass time ago and lasted about two fucking seconds. I don’t look at her that way anymore. And I would never,
ever
hook up with her. She’s not even my type.”

His words cause a small smile to grace my lips. I don’t even know why other than I’m an idiot, which I think I already mentioned.

“You’re such a liar,” I tell him. “Wynter’s gorgeous. She loves to have fun and is totally a people person. That’s exactly your type. She’s basically the female version of you.”

Silence encases us. I feel so stupid for having this conversation.

I sound jealous
.

“Gorgeous, huh?” he remarks with amusement. “Personally, I’ve always thought of myself as dashingly handsome, but I’ll take gorgeous, I guess.”

Perplexed, I replay what I said.
Gorgeous? I called him gorgeous? Why would I do that?
I mean, yeah, he is gorgeous with his blond hair that always sticks up perfectly chaotic. Plus, he has perfectly shaped lips, his lean body is ridiculously sexy, and his eyes … Don’t even get me started on those. They might be the most perfect eyes I’ve ever …