Page 25 of Solitude

I decide then and there that just-rolled-out-of-bed, messy hair, baggy t-shirt, and athletic shorts is my favorite version of Beck. His shorts are so tiny I can see more of his hairy thighs than should be allowed, and I spy another small tattoo above his knee. His chocolate brown hair is messy and fluffy, his fingers tugging at the strands as I stare at him, and my fingers itch to comb through the locks just once.

His face softens as he meets my stare. “What?”

“You look sleepy.”

“You look beautiful.”

My eyes widen, and my mouth parts on a gasp.

For three days, I’ve held strong in my desire to erase Beck from my brain.

Three whole days I’ll never get back.

“You think–”

I’m cut off by Gus’ hand clapping his friend on the shoulder as he winks at me and grabs the bottle of sunscreen. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

He carefully applies the cream to his nose and cheeks then squirts another dollop on his fingertips and begins rubbing it onto Ben’s face. Ben just stands there, eyes fluttering closed as he sways slightly towards Gus then back again. Beck puts his own sunscreen on, using less of the product than the other two guys.

“Do y’all really need sunscreen?” I ask as I watch them.

Beck shrugs, “Sun is still damaging even if we don’t burn.”

“UV rays and all that shit,” Gus chimes in as he slaps Ben’s face a couple of times to signal he’s done. “I want to look sexy even when I’m fifty. Not old and wrinkly.”

“Your dad isn’t old and wrinkly.”

Gus grimaces. “Ew. I don’t want to look like him either.”

I turn away from them with a roll of my eyes, ready to get back into the mindset of pretending I have no clue who Beck is. The plan has been working just fine until now, so I wander away from the boys with a garbage bag and a pair of gloves.

Cole has banned me from using one of the pokers after I almost stabbed him a few months ago, so I struggle into a pair of too-tight gloves and hope for the best now.

“Wait up.”

My head snaps around to see Beck jogging to catch upwith me as he pulls on a pair of gloves, too. A smile tugs at his full lips, and I find myself caught up in how different he looks after two years once again. In so many ways, it’s the same kid I grew up watching as he slammed hockey pucks at his garage door.

Beckett Hale still has the same soft, blue eyes that are brighter in the morning light, and dimples indenting his cheeks cutely. Somehow, he manages to be both so tall and so graceful when he moves and almost as clumsy as I am. He’s added a few new bumps and bruises to his collection, and I can still see the fading scar through his bottom lip.

“Winnie?” He snaps his fingers in front of my face.

My cheeks heat as I blink my eyes up and away from his face. I step away from him and pick up a small piece of a ripped up piece of plastic, shoving it into the garbage bag.

He’s still standing there, eyes following me as his smile grows, and I snap at him. “Stop being a creep.”

“What amIdoing?” He asks with a smile so wide it has to hurt.

“You’re…” I try to find the words. “You’re everywhere. Go back to Texas or something.”

Beck slaps a hand over his heart, fingers digging into his t-shirt. “Ow. You’re hurting my feelings.”

Ignoring him, I scowl and keep scouring Main Street for litter. I like to walk through the cemetery and loop around towards the beach to meet up with the rest of the group.

It’s not until I’m nearing the stone entrance to HollowGraves that I hear the crunch of twigs behind me. Beck is still trailing behind me—hands full of garbage.

I stop and stare at him. “Why are you still following me?”

He shrugs, haphazardly opening the garbage bag and dumping his collection inside. “Why not? You suddenly don’t like me?”

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