Page 18 of Adorkable

The thought had me smiling so hard, my cheeks hurt.

“Spitz.”

I turned and found Ash Stryker, soccer star and fellow news staffer, staring at me, frowning.

“Something wrong with your face?”

Trust Ash to ruin my good mood. Dropping the manic grin, I deadpanned, “No. Something wrong with yours?”

He shook his head, still looking at me like I was the strangest thing. “Listen, I wanted to give you a message. The team doesn’t appreciate you focusing all your stories on one player. There are ten other guys out there besides your boyfriend. It wouldn’t kill you to quote one of them sometime.”

“Wait—” I couldn’t believe this. “—you can’t be saying what I think you’re saying. Have you actually read any of my pieces?”

An eyebrow raise was all I got from number forty-three.

“Ash, you do know I was the one who gave you your nickname?” I’d christened him The Whip last year, describing his quick dribbling and the sound his foot made as it connected with the ball. That was when he’d been an up-and-coming sophomore. Now, as a junior, The Whip was a starter on varsity, not quite as good as Becks but definitely talented—and arrogant. “I mean, seriously, The Whip? People didn’t just come up with that on their own.”

“My mom was calling me that way before you ever wrote your little article.”

And did I mention cocky as all get out? Sweeping blond hair, lean frame, easy smile. The guy had most girls falling at his feet—lucky for me, I wasn’t most girls.

“Yeah, whatever,” I said, walking past him and patting his shoulder. “Good talk.”

“You’re an odd one, Spitz.”

“That’s what they say.” Stopping in the hall, I turned back around. “And by the way, Becks and I are just friends.”

Ash grunted and slipped past me, the back of his shiny white and green jersey dissolving into the mass of students on their way to first period. Shrugging, I went to my locker.

I got about ten steps before some girl I didn’t know grabbed me.

“You and Becks?” She laughed, looking me up and down. “Most hilarious thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Huh?” I said, confused.

As she rejoined her giggling group of friends, another girl (Shelia, Shelly...something like that) came up to me as I reached my locker.

“Ignore her. She’s just jealous.” She rolled her eyes. “Personally, I knew it all along. Y’all are just the cutest couple I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Okay...”

Shelia/Shelly/something-or-other smiled conspiratorially. “He any good?”

“Who?” I asked.

“Well, duh,” she laughed. “Your boy Becks.”

Oh, I thought, soccer. Finally catching her drift, I said, “Oh yeah, he’s phenomenal.”

“I’ll just bet he is.” She winked. “Body and face like that, how could he not be, right?”

I didn’t see what Becks’s face had to do with him being good at sports; but I didn’t want to embarrass her either, so I just nodded. “It should get him into a good college.”

Her jaw dropped. “They give scholarships for that kind of thing?”

“Oh, yeah sure,” I said. “Tons of them.”

“Well,” she muttered, turning away, “learn something new every day. Bye, Spitz.”

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