Page 42 of Getting Lucky Number Seven

My body stilled.

“I know we broke up because of the long-distance thing, but… No one gets me like you, Lyla. No one’s as driven or as focused—so many girls here aren’t even that serious about college. They just think it’s party time.”

Driven. Focused. Serious. How many times had he told me he loved that about me? Was that even me anymore? Maybe I was slipping—I had been to lots of parties lately. A tinge of panic pinched my gut. This past month, I hadn’t dedicated as much time to my classes as usual. I wasn’t flunking, but I wasn’t excelling either. This whole bucket list was supposed to prove that I could be serious about college and more relaxed about life at the same time. Only balance had been trickier than ever since Beck and I had entered our friends with benefits arrangement.

And now that I had Beck, I didn’t even miss Miles anymore—it’d been weeks since I’d thought about him.

But I don’t reallyhaveBeck.I didn’t know what to say, so I went with the polite. “Yeah, I miss you, too.”

“You should come visit me,” Miles said. “It’s only three hours.”

“Or you could come visit me.”Wait? Why am I inviting him here? Do I even want to see him? I think it’d just be awkward.

“My car’s in the shop. I think it’s dead. Seriously, you’d love it here. You’ve got to check it out.”

My car was limping and hacking up a lung, but not quite dead. “Yeah, maybe.”

A knock sounded on the front door. I cut through the living room and swung it open. Beck had on a vintage blue T-shirt that stretched nicely across his chest and brought out his eyes. He’d shaved today, and while I liked scruffy, shaved was equally nice.

“Looking sexy as usual.” Beck’s fingers skimmed the hem of my skirt. “Love this.”

Oops. I hoped Miles didn’t hear that—didn’t want to hurt his feelings when he was having a vulnerable I-miss-you moment. I held up a finger to Beck. “Hey, Miles, I’ve got to go. I’ll look at my schedule and call you later. ’Kay?”

“Potassium to you, too,” Miles said with a laugh. “Talk to you then.”

Yes, I appreciated the periodic table humor as well as the next chemistry nerd, but for some reason it didn’t make me laugh this time. I guess we’d used it too much over the years.

I hung up and smiled at Beck, and with him in front of me, his sexy compliment echoing through my head, my earlier anxiety melted away. “I’m so ready to party. The non-drinking version, of course, since I’m the designated driver and all.” I hooked my hand in his elbow. “It’s your party, so you can drink if you want to.”

“Deal.” As we headed down the stairs to the parking lot, Beck asked, “You still talk to Miles?”

“I haven’t for a long time. He just called out of the blue. Said he wants me to visit.”

Beck barked a laugh. “Yeah, right. Like you’re going to drive all the way to New York for a booty call when you get nothing out of it.”

I wanted to tell him to be nice—and to add that not every guy expected a booty call—but that wasn’t what our relationship was about. So while I’d told Whitney last night over pedicures and a cheesy romance movie to stop wondering if she should call Matt her boyfriend and just ask—he’d claimed to be busy more and more and she was in full meltdown mode about it—I realized I was a total hypocrite. I couldn’t even talk to my best friend about the guy I was having sex with. Because, silly me, I’d gone and made them the same person.

…

No surprise, the party was big and loud. The guys had about a month without games as they trained for regionals at the end of March, and apparently they planned on letting loose during their mini-break. Whenever Beck ran into one of his teammates, they greeted each other with a variety of fist or chest bumps, with the occasional bro hug. He introduced me to everyone, but other than a hand on my back here and there as we wound through the crowd, we didn’t touch.

There was no hand holding and no kissing.

Beck and I were circling the crowd when a tall brunette in teeny-tiny shorts shoved a total jock-type guy, sending him stumbling into our path. “You’re such an ass!” She loudly accused him of checking out another girl, and he tried to placate her with, “Baby, it’s not like that!” Her response was to storm off, and then he chased after her, leaving our pathway clear once again.

Beck shot me a sidelong glance, theyikesexpression on his face clear. “That’s relationships for you. Aren’t you glad we don’t have to deal with that?”

“Totally,” I said, but another couple who stared at each other like there was nothing else in the world snagged my attention. The guy had his hands in her pockets, so there was definitely some feeling up going on, but when he laughed at whatever she’d said and kissed her cheek, I could tell their affection went beyond the physical.

There was no doubt they were together, and clearly they didn’t mind who knew it. Miles had always held my hand, had always introduced me as his girlfriend. I didn’t realize how much I missed small gestures like that.

I’ve got to stop thinking that way. It’ll just screw up the good thing Beck and I have.Besides, now I was glorifying my relationship with Miles, when the truth was that we’d had plenty of issues, several of which went back to the fact that sex with him left us both frustrated enough we’d stopped having it very often. He’d been the one to bring up the breakup, too, as if having a girlfriend in another state held him back somehow, which I supposed didn’t make it as mutual as I liked to pretend.

“You want another drink?” Beck asked, eyeing my empty soda cup. “I’m going to grab another.”

“Sure.”

His hand grazed my back before he headed toward the drinks—the contact made my skin hum, and I told myself it was as good as hand holding, even if it didn’t necessarily announce we were here together. I watched him maneuver through the crowd and how he smiled and nodded at people as he passed. Not shoving, but always nice. Intimidating enough by size alone for most people to move out of his way.

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