Page 93 of Adorkable

He hurried off, and only Gwen stayed behind.

Becks stepped forward. “Hey there Sal, Miss Gwen. How’s everything going today?”

“Hiyah, Becks,” Gwen said, bouncing on her toes. “Everything’s good. Miss Sally did a great job reading, and I got all As on my report card. Except for gym,” she muttered, “which isn’t really a class anyway.”

“Well, excuse me,” Becks said, “but gym was my best subject in elementary school.”

“Really?” Gwen eyed him suspiciously.

“Sure was.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t really try all that hard. Maybe I’ll do better next time.”

“I’m sure you will.” He gave her one of his devastating smiles, and the ten-year-old looked like she was head over heels. Becks simply had that effect on women.

I stepped in, trying to save her from herself. “That’s great, Gwen. You going to draw me another pretty picture today or what?”

“But I’m talking to Becks,” she protested.

“Go on,” Becks said. “I’ve got something I need to say to Miss Sally. We’ll talk some more another time.”

“Alright.” Gwen sulked away, throwing glances at us over her shoulder.

“I really do like that little redhead,” Becks said. “She reminds me of you, Sal.”

I nodded. “We have a lot of things in common.” Like the love of Trek and, oh yeah, the boy standing in front of me. “What’s up?”

“Not here,” he said. “Don’t want anyone to listen in. It’s kind of personal.”

I tried to push down my fear as we weaved in and out of the rows.

Once we couldn’t hear the kids’ whispers anymore I stopped, turned back to him. He looked like he was nervous, thinking hard. The first was a new one on me. Becks hardly ever got nervous, and when he did, it usually meant something bad was coming.

“What is it?” I asked before I lost what little courage I had. No one ever really used this part of the library. We were completely alone. I was trying to decide whether or not that was a good thing.

“I want you to break up with Ash,” he said.

Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t this.

“What?” I asked.

“I want you to break up with him, Sal.” Becks looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t flinch.

“Why?”

Becks’s eyes shifted restlessly, looking at the books around us as if they might hold the answer. “It just doesn’t feel right,” he said finally. “You and Stryker are so different, Sal. He’s not the one for you.”

Mentally, I agreed but decided to listen and see where this was going.

“I mean, he’s such a jerk,” he went on. “And you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“You’re…you.” I scowled, and he tried to backtrack. “No, no, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a good thing, Sal. A very good thing.”

“How good, Becks?”

He frowned at me like I was the one not making sense. “The thing is, the two of you together…it’s just wrong. Don’t you feel that? I can’t concentrate in school. I’m killing ‘em on the field, but I can’t get too excited about it because then I remember you’re with him. You’re never around anymore. I miss you so much; it’s driving me insane and…”

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