Page 38 of Adorkable

That was all the warning I got. A second later, Becks was next to me, arm wrapped around my waist like it was the most natural thing, like it belonged there.

“You shaved,” I said in wonder, running my eyes over his face.

He rolled his shoulders, and I felt the movement. “‘Course, I did,” he said, grinning down at me. “The next game’s not for another few days.”

I was still staring like an idiot, inspecting his smooth, hairless jaw line as if it was the eighth wonder of the world. I hadn’t seen it this way, this close in forever: Clean, strong, angular. Hands down it was the best jaw I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Hey, Sal,” he said, catching my attention. “I missed you at your locker, so I brought your books. I was thinking maybe I could walk you to first?”

I swallowed. “Sure, Becks.”

His eyes slid to Ash. “Stryker.”

“Becks,” Ash said back. To me, he said, “I’ll see you around, Spitz.”

“Bye,” I said.

Becks rounded on me as soon as Ash turned the corner. “So, what’s the deal with you and Ass Striker?”

“What?” I said, taken aback. The nickname wasn’t a surprise. Becks had made that one up years ago, practically the instant he met Ash. What surprised me was his tone. Becks never sounded that serious about anything—except maybe soccer.

He must’ve realized it because his next words were teasing. “It’s the second time I’ve caught you with him,” he said. “You two-timing me, Sal? Got another F.B.F. on the side?”

“Becks,” I warned.

“And why’s he always giving you the hairy eyeball? If the guy looked at me like that, I’d kick his ass.”

I smiled. “If Ash looked at you like that, he’d be gay.”

“Whatever,” Becks said, but he looked tense. “Just please tell me it’s not him. It isn’t, right?”

“What’s not him?”

“Your crush.”

“My what?”

Becks took a deep breath. It looked like he was counting to ten. “The guy you want to make jealous.”

Oh, I thought. That. I really needed to start keeping track of all my lies.

“No,” I replied, “it’s not him.”

“You’re sure?” he said, squinting. “Because as much as I want to help you, Sal, I’m not too keen on the idea of you being Mrs. Ass Striker.”

“Why not?” I asked as we stopped at Ms. Vega’s classroom.

“I’m just not,” he said, handing me my books. “He’s not right for you, Sal.”

“Oh really? And who is?”

My breath quickened as he brought a hand to my cheek, bending down to place a kiss in the same spot he had before, the skin below my left ear. The shiver came just as it had the first time.

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly. “But Lillian’s watching, so we’d better make this look good.”

Without turning, I knew that he was right. I could feel her eyes on my back as we stood there in the doorway.

I gave in to the impulse and placed a gentle kiss on Becks’s jaw. It was the only thing I could reach since he’d stood back up, and besides, I’d wanted to do it since the moment I saw him. He stiffened at the contact.

---