Page 52 of Busted Dreams

The crowd laughed and started to disperse now that the show was over.

“Sorry. Believe it or not, I didn’t mean to knock it over. It just happened in my…excitement.” Beck fell down beside me. He stared at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered to him, making it hard to compose myself. “Let’s watch it. I’m curious to see how it turned out.”

“I think I’m still recovering. Give me a minute,” I told him with a straight face.

Kissing the tip of my nose, he took my phone and turned the volume up enough so only we would hear it, then saved, and replayed it. I watched the deft movements of his fingers as my heartrate quieted back to a safe and normal rhythm.

Absently, I realized he’d spent a lot more time on TikTok than I’d originally thought if he knew how to operate it so well. I was still learning.

My voice sounded small as it came from the tiny speaker,“Make me feel wanted.”

On the screen, Beck came across as the dangerous kind of sexy with an uninhibited allure that would make any viewer think he was an amazing lover. I gulped as I turned to study him while he watched the video.

A small smile told me he thought it was good work. And it was. It was the thirst trap to end all thirst traps, because every woman—or man—would instantly want to be the person holding the camera. And he hadn’t even needed to take his shirt off.

“Post this one next.” He kissed me again and pushed off the couch. There was an extra pep in his step as he cleaned up our coffee cups, tossing them in the trash with our napkins.

“Ready?” He extended his hand out to me. Ignoring all the people in the shop now, I took it.

He said his goodbyes to Jeff and walked us outside. The brisk air of the approaching winter snapped me back to myself more than any recovery time in the shop. It was like his pheromones surrounded me on that raggedy couch, preventing me from thinking clearly.

“As much as I hate to, I’ll take you back to Freda.” He swung me around by my hand until I faced him, and he wrapped me up in strong arms, blocking the wind whipping through the now lively street. “Thank you for hanging out tonight. I wish I could have all your nights. And your days…”

“That would be amazing.” I hummed. “I had a lot of fun. Like always.”

“Good, then let’s go.”

In the car, he turned to music down lower than the original drive over.

“So… What did you do last night without me?”

I almost broke my neck from turning so fast. If he thought something was off in my behavior, he didn’t let on. Skepticism plagued me right alongside guilt. Yes, I was being a chicken, but how did I tell one boy I liked that I slept with another boy I liked? It didn’t matter that they weren’t forcing me to choose, or that I felt more confident in myself after hanging out with Ryan. The conversation would be awkward no matter what.

He glanced over at me, then rubbed his thumb between my eyes, apparently smoothing out a wrinkle. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me.”

Odd answer.

Now I was extra paranoid.

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you… But let’s get back to the parking lot first.”

We were quiet the rest of the ride, which admittedly consisted of about five anxiety ridden minutes. When Beck pulled into the parking lot, he parked right next to Freda so I could jump right into the driver’s side door. Even when something daunting and sure to be uncomfortable loomed over us, he was being considerate.

The car rocked back as he put it in park. He turned to look at me with soulful blue eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I blurted out the secret that wasn’t really a secret, and hoped he didn’t toss me out of the car and speed away.

“Not that I did anything wrong, but if I’m going to date you and Rhys and Thatcher, I owe it to you to tell you I’ve been intimate with Rhys. If our positions were reversed, I’d want to know to keep myself protected.” There, that was mature, responsible, and hard as hell to say.

Beck was my hothead of the guys. A part of me braced for the wild outburst I knew would come. My left eye squinted slightly, his gaze narrowing on the action.

“Pretty girl, you break my heart tensing up like that.” His voice was soft but dejected. What I had mistakenly thought was guilt before had been nerves. Real guilt seeped into my core as I realized my whole body had done exactly as he’d said and tensed.

Forcing myself to relax, I took his hand in mine and brought it to my lap, playing my fingers over his. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“I do.” He tipped his head back to rest on the seat. “I almost always speak before I think. It’s not something I’m proud of, but no matter what, I want you to know I would never hurt you. Mentally or physically. I’d sooner smash my guitar.”

I shrunk into myself. Somewhere along this conversation, I’d made him feel bad for my confession. How had that even happened?

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