AFTER SCHOOL THE NEXT DAY, I went to the girls’ bathroom—a different one—and changed into the outfit I brought for dinner with Beckett and his dad. The cotton dress slipped easily over my head, and the denim jacket that went with it kept the dress from being too summery. I hoped Beckett would like it.
Since he had practice, I went out to the field and sat in the bleachers, planning to knock out as much homework as I could before spending the evening with him. Except the second I got settled in, my only pencil fell through a crack in the bleachers. I thought about leaving it, but that would mean leaving Beckett’s early or staying up even later to get my history assignment done.
With a sigh, I grabbed my backpack and walked back down to the ground. The way EA’s bleachers were set up, I’d have to walk all the way around to the back to get any access. Which is exactly what I did. I hated the way the metal bleachers always creaked and rattled as I walked down them—and the looks people gave me like I was about to send them crashing to the ground.
Finally I made it to the bottom and walked to the gummy underside of the stands. Coach Ripley’s shouts were barely audible down here, which was saying something. All I could hear was the gossipy dribble going on above me.
Commentary on the football players’ butts, rumors about some girl they thought was pregnant, trash talking Brentwood Academy, and then…
“There’s no way Merritt’s going to let Rory get away with stealing Beckett from her, right?”
I froze in my search, my ears perked for more intel.
Another voice said, “They were broken up before Beckett ever asked Rory to homecoming. Merritt’s just being jealous.”
“They were broken up for like a second,” a third voice argued. “Everyone knows you need to give a couple like that at least a month to simmer.”
The first girl said, “Exactly. I bet if Rory wouldn’t have stepped in, Beckett and Merritt would be going to homecoming together.”
“I know,” the third said. “They would have been so cute—the homecoming king and queen dating?”
Someone let out a dreamy sigh, and the second voice said, “I don’t know what Beckett sees in Rory, but she better enjoy it before he figures out he can do way better.”
My heart clenched, physical pain manifesting in my chest. I didn’t want to hear anymore. I grabbed my pencil and hurried out from under the bleachers as fast as I possibly could.
Why did it feel like someone had split me open with an ice pick? They’d only said everything I’d been thinking, but the worst part was that they were right. Girls like Merritt and guys as handsome as Beckett found each other. It was the way human nature worked. Beckett and me, together? It defied all odds. All sanity.
Why hurt Beckett over a bet when everyone knew it wouldn’t last between us? I might not have deserved all the pestering I got from Merritt’s crew, but that didn’t mean Beckett deserved this. He was kind and pure and heartfelt. I felt like none of that.
After the girls had moved on to a new subject, I went back to my seat and buried myself in the history assignment. I almost didn’t register the sound of football cleats walking over the track and onto the bleachers.
“Hey, Cupcake.”
I looked up and took in Beckett in all of his sweaty glory. He had his helmet off, revealing a mess of damp hair and chiseled lines.
“Hi,” I managed. “Good practice.”
“Did you see any of it?” he asked. “You seemed pretty caught up in your books.”
My cheeks warmed at the idea of him watching me. “Trying to get some homework done before dinner.”
“Good idea.” He grinned. “I’ll run in and shower quick. Meet me at my car?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
He bent and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before jogging away, his cleats crackling over the metal bleacher floor.
After finishing my assignment, I gathered up my notes and book and shoved them in my backpack. I walked toward the school, past the girls who’d said those things about me. Their eyes felt heavier on my back than ever before.
Eventually, I reached the school’s parking lot and walked to the space I knew was Beckett’s. He always parked closer to the front—in one of the prime spots reserved for seniors. I passed by Kai Rush getting into his ridiculously expensive Tesla and found Beckett’s car between a shiny red Miata and a Rolls Royce. There had to be millions of dollars sitting in this school’s parking lot.
I leaned against the trunk of Beckett’s car, holding on to the straps of my backpack. Athletes were starting to filter out of the school, and I hoped he’d be out soon. I didn’t want another run-in with Merritt or her cronies— or anyone who would be silently judging me like those girls from before.
It made me long for Jordan, Ginger, Zara, and Callie. I missed sitting with them, feeling like I belonged somewhere. But what could I do? Ginger and Jordan made it pretty clear they didn’t want anything to do with me. Every time Callie saw me in the halls, she changed directions, and Zara just kept her head high and continued past me. Like I was no more than the wallflower I previously longed to be.
“Hey, beautiful,” Beckett called, several feet away. His backpack strap tugged at his shirt, revealing a thin line of skin and muscles at his waist.
Hell-o.
“Hey,” I countered.
When he came closer to kiss me, I let my fingers trail along the patch of skin. He pressed in closer to me, deepening the kiss.
Someone cleared their throat, and Headmaster Bradford said, “Move it along, Mr. Langley. Miss Hutton.”
Beckett lifted a hand in acknowledgement, but I turned my head down, tucking my chin against my chest. There was no way he wouldn’t tell my mom, but I didn’t care. My lips were still warm from the pressure of his on mine, and I wanted more. A thirsty woman drinking in every ounce I could.
Beckett twisted his fingers through mine. “Let’s get out of here?”
I nodded, eager to be somewhere more private with him. To see his house, the place he laid his head each night.
He led me to my side of the car and opened the door for me. Once I was inside, he took my backpack and shut the door. I wondered where he learned to be such a gentleman—it certainly wasn’t from the other guys on the team.
How many guys were out there who still opened doors for women? Who thought to carry their bags? Beckett had to be a dying breed if the boys in our school were any indication.
He put my backpack in the backseat before getting into the driver’s side. After backing out, he reached across the console and put his hand on my leg. My thighs were thick, but his hand was big, warm. I put my palm over the back of his hand and squeezed.
He smiled over at me. “I’m happy you’re coming over.”
My stomach somersaulted with joy. “Me too. I forgot to ask where you live?”
“Downtown Emerson,” he said. “It’s about twenty minutes from here.”
I nodded. Of course Beckett and his dad would live somewhere trendy like downtown. Not in the suburbs with a greenbelt and an HOA like my family. We were a minivan to their convertible. Which his dad actually had, by the way.
Beckett was right—it did take twenty minutes to get there. He pulled into a parking garage and maneuvered his car into a marked spot near the elevators. I got out before he could open the door for me and followed him to the elevator. Inside, he pushed a button that said PH.
“Penthouse?”
Beckett squeezed my hand like he could feel me freaking out. I squeezed back.
The elevators opened into a massive apartment walled with windows overlooking all of Seaton.
“Wow,” I breathed. If you looked far enough, you could see the hazy blue expanse of ocean in the distance. It was stunning.
Beckett released my hand and dropped his backpack on a gray couch. As I looked around, I noticed lots of grays, metals, and brick. Someone had clearly designed this apartment to have a clean, industrial feel.
“Hi, you two,” Mr. Langley said as he came down the metal stairs. Instead of the suit I typically saw him in, he was wearing jeans and a loose Brentwood Badgers sweatshirt. “Good to see you, Rory.”
I nodded with a smile. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Good,” he said. “Paid a lot of money to make it that way.” He pointed between him and Beckett. “The two of us are kind of hopeless when it comes to design.”
I shrugged. “Could have fooled me.”
“I’m ordering in Italian,” Mr. Langley said. “Should get here in about twenty minutes. Beckett, why don’t you show her around?”
I tried not to reveal how much that thought excited me.
Beckett returned to my side and took my hand. He led me around the main floor first, showing the balcony with a gas-burning fire pit, a large office that was set off from the rest of the open floor plan, and then led me upstairs.
“There are two bedrooms up here,” Beckett said. “My dad’s”—he knocked on one door—”and mine.” This time, he twisted the handle and led me into his room.
My eyes were hungry as I took it in—the floor-to-ceiling windows, iron-framed bed, posters of professional football teams, and a small framed photo on his desk of a young boy and a woman who shared some of Beckett’s features.
“This is amazing,” I said, brushing my hand over the concrete surface of his desk.
He shrugged. “It’s no Rory Hutton studio, but it’s mine.”
I shook my head. “You’re crazy.” My eyes returned to the photo. “Is this your mom?”
A dark look crossed his eyes. “Yeah.” “Do you ever talk to her anymore?”
“She sends me a birthday card every now and then. Sometimes I see her in the crowd at NFL games when her new husband is playing.” The pain was clear in his eyes, no matter how much he tried to hide it. “She has three kids with him. A few years younger than me.”
“That must be so hard.” I turned from the child in the picture to the nearly grown man standing next to me. There was so much alike, and so much different.
He shrugged. “It was hard. But she taught me the most important lesson: you have to be careful who you fall in love with. Some people only want you for what you can do for them. Do they want you or your status?”
My eyes turned toward the floor, tightness growing in my chest.
Beckett mistook it as sorrow for him and said, “Come here.” He lay on his king-sized bed and spread his arms open for me.
I glanced toward the closed door. “Your dad won’t mind?”
“Cupcake,” Beckett said, propping himself up, “my dad’s gone five days a week. You think he cares if I have girls up here?”
“Fair,” I said and joined him on top of his comforter. I was careful not to let my dress ride up as I slid into his open arms. Once I found my spot, the tension in my chest eased. Involuntarily, I let out a sigh. “This is nice.”
“It is.” He kissed the top of my head, sending tingles all the way to my toes.
For a moment, I stared at the ceiling, thinking how different high school would have been if I’d been dating someone like Beckett the whole time. If I’d been brave enough to just talk to someone like Beckett.
It struck me that I didn’t want my life to go back to how it had been— isolated. Safe, but boring. I loved the color Beckett and the girls added to my life. I would miss it when the truth came out and Beckett turned into a stranger again. Because deep down, I knew that’s what would happen. Beckett would never forgive me for the bet I made with Merritt, even if I’d liked him well before this year. Just like the girls wouldn’t forgive me for blowing them off.
The pain grew so much I searched for a change in subject. “What’s it like?” I asked. “Living here alone?”
I twisted my head on Beckett’s shoulder, but he kept his gaze on the ceiling. “I had a nanny until I was fourteen and convinced Dad I could be here by myself.”
Fourteen seemed so young to me. I imagined freshman Beckett coming home to this expansive apartment and spending each evening by himself. “And after that?” I asked.
He sighed. “I don’t spend a ton of time here. Between football and the bakery and hanging out with the guys, I’m not alone much. And my dad calls me each evening. Checks in.”
My parents weren’t perfect, but at least they were around. With the exception of major trials, I could count on Dad to be there before I went to
bed at least, even if it was a quick goodnight in the doorway of his home office.
“Do you ever get lonely?” I asked.
“I’m not lonely now.” His head turned toward mine. Up close, I could see a lone freckle on his cheekbone. The gentle slope of his full lips. His breath feathered my own lips, setting them on alert.
His eyes trailed from mine to my lips and back again before slowly closing the gap. I closed my eyes too and got lost in all that was Beckett. The hard muscles of his chest and stomach, the gentleness in his fingers, the soft skin of his cheeks and the coarse edges of his chin. They clashed and blended in each second of a slow kiss that stole my breath but sped my heart.
“I love your curves,” he said, his voice husky. His teeth caught my lip, sending a jolt to my entire body, changing the kiss from leisurely to lustful.
I needed more, and so did he. He grabbed my leg and pulled it over his waist. My hands explored under the hem of his shirt, feeling the groove of each abdominal muscle. The haze of lust covered us, and I was more than willing to blanket myself in it.
Three sharp knocks sounded on the door, and I jumped back and rolled off the bed in a display of athleticism I didn’t know was possible for me.
Beckett smirked at me. “Yeah, Dad?” “Dinner’s here,” he called through the door.
“Be down in a sec,” Beckett replied. Lazily, he rolled off the bed and came to me. His hands rubbed over my shoulders, rustling over my denim jacket like my skin wasn’t already on fire from his touch. “Let’s finish this later?”
I bit my lip, and he groaned, reaching out to tug it from between my teeth with this thumb.
“So sexy,” he breathed.
I smiled at the floor, trying to hide how much his comment thrilled me. Sexy? No one had used that word to describe me before, but I loved it. Especially the way it poured over his lips.
I checked my hair in the mirror over his desk, smoothed a few pieces down so I wouldn’t look like I’d just been ravaging Beckett in the other room, and then took his hand. At the mirth in his eyes, I said, “I want to make a good impression.”
“On who?” he asked. “Because I’m sold.”
I rolled my eyes at him and followed him down the stairs.
I’d always expected to be swept off my feet by Beckett. Heck, just his smile had me stammering and lost for words. What I hadn’t anticipated was how easy it was to spend time with him. I loved his sense of humor, the comfort I felt in his quiet. The sure way he took my hand and didn’t let go. Being with him just felt natural—if I ignored all the signs saying how unnatural a couple like us was.
At a long rustic table, takeout boxes were spread in front of us. Mr. Langley busied himself dishing the food onto plates. Beckett let his hand slip from mine. “What do you want to drink, Cupcake?”
I shrugged. “What is there?”
“Lemonade, tea, water, milk, orange juice—”
“Too many options.” I laughed. “How about lemonade?” “Sure thing,” he said.
“Grab me a glass too.” Mr. Langley nodded at the table. “Pick any seat, Rory.”
I sat down across the table from where he stood, and he passed me a plate loaded with alfredo, bread sticks, grilled chicken, and steamed broccoli.
My eyes widened in delight. “Carbs.” He chuckled. “That’s my girl.”
“Mine,” Beckett corrected jokingly. He set a glass of lemonade in front of me and his dad, then took the chair next to mine.
“Dig in,” Mr. Langley said.
I didn’t need any more encouragement than that. The hEAlthy meals at school left plenty to be desired—mostly in flavor and calories. Not like this. The noodles melted in my mouth, along with the calorie-laden alfredo sauce.
I swallowed. “This is so good. Thank you.”
Mr. Langley chuckled. “You’re welcome to join us any time.” Beckett nodded.
I smiled at them. I’d love to take them up on it, but I had a feeling our cozy dinners together would be ending soon. I resolved to tell Beckett about the bet as soon as we were done. If he hated me, then we wouldn’t become even more attached before the heartbreak that was sure to follow. And, if by some miracle Beckett forgave me, I’d have less time with this secret hanging over my head like a guillotine.
Beckett glanced over at me with a smile, and I barely found the strength to return it, because no matter how much I hoped for the second option, I knew my life didn’t work like that. Girls like Merritt always found a way to win.
