Page 86 of Adorkable

“Hey.” Clayton waited until I met his eyes, then said, “Make him suffer.”

“What?” I asked.

“Becks,” he grinned. His crystal clear eyes seemed to see too much. “My brother needs to be smacked over the head sometimes. Don’t you dare let him off easy, Sally. You just be sure you make him work a little before giving in.”

“But Clayton…” I stammered as he walked away.

“Make him suffer, Sally,” he tossed over his shoulder, leaving me dumbfounded.

Clayton was a terrible big brother for saying that, but he was a good friend to me, and I appreciated the support. I didn’t want to hurt Becks, but it would be sweet to make him a little jealous—to know that hecould getjealous over me, like a guy gets over a girl, a man over a woman. Time would tell, but in the meantime, I had to get back to Hooker and find out more about this tongue rolling thing.

CHAPTER 15

They won (of course). Chariot breezed past the second round of sectionals and the quarterfinals as well. Becks was playing better than ever. Like I’d heard Crenshaw say, it was as if someone had put gasoline on his already lit fire. He was unstoppable on the field, a one-man army of soccer devastation. The coach made the most out of Becks’s and Ash’s new feud, always putting them in together, never letting one sit out when the other was in action.

Not like they’d let him.

The two seemed to be in an all-out battle to see who could do the best, score the most. It was amazing to watch Ash try and rise up to Becks’s level. The Whip had already been a force to be reckoned with, but this was something else. Becks ended up outscoring him in the second round but not the third—which I could tell disturbed him greatly.

The day after it happened, Becks came up to me and said, “Did you go to the movies with Ass Striker?”

I shut my locker, doing a mental eye roll at the name. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“The jerk tweeted it,” he said in disgust.

“He did?” I couldn’t hide my surprise. “What did he say?”

Becks held his phone out to me, and I scanned the screen.

The account was for @AshTheWhip24/7, and it said: “Scream Deluxe, popcorn, and a hot older woman at my side. Doesn’t get better than that.”

I laughed. Ash was such a goober.

“Sal, we were supposed to go see that one together.”

It was true. Becks was a huge fan of horror, but Ash had asked me first, and like he said, I couldn’t wait around forever. I wouldn’t. Becks’s puppy dog eyes had always worked on me in the past, but now I was a rock. Stone cold, hard, impassive. I just wished he didn’t look so disappointed in me.

I shrugged. “We can go see it again if you want, but I might have to check and see if I’m doing anything with Ash.”

“What’s up with that?” he said in exasperation. “Is he your babysitter now? Sal, you hate Twitter. Just last year you called the people who do it ‘online attention seekers with no life.’ What happened?”

You, I thought. You happened, and now I’m on this stupid mission to make you see me as a girl and to give someone who actually likes me a shot, and it’ll probably go nowhere, but I’m going to try my best anyway. Call me what you like, but Sally Spitz was no quitter.

“So Ash tweets,” I said. “It’s not that big a deal. I accept him for who he is, and he accepts me for who I am.”

“Hmph,” Becks said and then stalked off without a backward glance.

Later on, the coach was drilling them hard. This would be the last practice before the semis, and he wanted his team both mentally and physically prepared. They’d been at it a full hour and a half before he let them have their first break.

Ash jogged up to me, hair plastered to his head with sweat, muscles shifting beneath his skin, his shirt long gone.

“Hey,” he said, pulling me into a very warm, very wet hug.

“Ugh,” I laughed, then whispered, “when I agreed to go out with you, I don’t think sweaty hugs were part of the deal.”

“They totally were.” He released me with a tug on my ponytail. “Fine print, Spitz. Never forget to read it. You’ll be sorry if you do.”

“I heard about your tweet.”

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