Page 62 of Getting Lucky Number Seven

A tight band formed around my chest, constricting further with each breath I attempted to take. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to figure out why he’d send that image to me. Was this his way of trying to be friends again? Like we could just go back to the way things were?

Obviously even a mangled friendship was too much to hope for—I’d never feel neutral enough toward him to pull it off. Not without lots and lots of time, and even with that, I wasn’t sure.

My phone vibrated again. A picture of an adorable kitten with a silver gift bow on his head showed up on my screen. He was crouched down, eyes wide, with the caption:omg! getitoffgetitoffgetitoff

Right after came a picture of a black cat behind a gray and white one, his tongue out.are you licking me?was across the top. Then, down by the black cat,shh…just let it happen

Beck:This is what I do with my spare time now. I find these pictures that you’d love and end up staring at them while thinking of how stupid I am for letting you go. I’m so miserable I can hardly eat or sleep, and I despise that I even have to be around myself

Tears sprung to my eyes. I clenched my jaw and blinked, trying to hold them back. I wanted to give in and tell him I’d been miserable, too, but I was afraid of what would happen after. Of being hurt again. There was overcoming your fears, and then there was not learning from your mistakes.

Me:You hurt me, Beck. Worse than anyone ever has. It’s going to take more than a couple of chemistry jokes and cat pictures to make it okay.

Beck:I know. That’s why I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Including this…

I looked around, trying to see what he was talking about. I didn’t see him anywhere. The music died, and instead of another song starting up, dead silence followed. Even the conversations going on quieted at the stark contrast to the constant noise.

Then Beck jumped up next to the DJ booth, a microphone in his hand. “Lyla, I screwed up. I know I suck, and I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m so damn sick of pretending I’m okay without you.” He took a deep breath and then cleared his throat. “Because, baby…”

He glanced at the DJ, and a second later the familiarbloop, bloopnoise sounded out. Beck stared across the crowd at me and raised the microphone to his lips. “You spin my head right round, right round—”

“What the hell is he doing?” Whitney asked, stepping up next to me.

I put my hands over my heart. It launched into motion, the erratic pumping stirring up a new wave of emotions, happy ones that battled to take over the sad. “He’s singing our song.”

Whitney winced when the rapping began. “He’s really bad.”

I laughed, although it came out half-sob. “I know.”

There were cheers, and some boos, and a lot of people looking at each other like they didn’t know how to react. When Beck pointed the microphone at the crowd for help, though, a large part of them sang along with him. Unlike karaoke night, the lyrics were blasting out of the speakers, too, helping when he didn’t know the words and chose not to do the Kesha part.

As the song wound down, Beck crooked his finger at me and mouthed, “Please.” The crowd seemed to turn as one to see who he was pointing at, and then there I was, suddenly the center of attention. My face heated, and speaking of “right round,” my head was spinning. Judging from the wetness sliding down my cheeks I was also crying.

Of all the romantic gestures, I couldn’t believe I was about to be won over by a badly done hip-hop song. Logical or not, though, the signs of swooning were all there. Likeliness of fainting? Shortness of breath? Hysterical rapture?

Check, check, and check.

Not to mention the way my heart beat faster and harder—if it could speak, it’d be saying Beck’s name. It belonged to him and had for a long time, no doubt about it.

Love really was one of those things that made no sense when you tried to analyze it. I pushed my way through the crowd. A few of Beck’s teammates helped clear a path, people moving out of their way much faster than they had done for me. They nodded as I walked past and a couple of them clapped me on the shoulder. Beck tossed the microphone to the DJ and jumped down next to me, his face adorably flushed.

“Wow, that was embarrassing,” he said. “Pretty sure I’m not going to ever live it down with the guys, either, but if it worked…” He cupped my cheek. “I’m so sorry for everything—I was a pucking idiot!”

I bit back a smile at his choice of swearing. It was so perfect. Like his off-key singing onstage, the cat memes he’d sent, his face, and just everything about him.

“I love you, Lyla. More than I ever knew was possible. I’ve been so miserable without you. We won regionals tonight, but all I could think of was getting back to you so I could make things right. I panicked when you weren’t at your apartment, and then your neighbor told me she thought you’d come here. When I saw you with that guy, I was terrified I was too late.

“Even as I told myself to leave you alone if you’d moved on and were happy, I knew I’d never be able to do it, because the fact of the matter is, you belong with me.” His gaze locked onto mine, so much passion blazing in his eyes my heart forgot how to beat for a moment. “Please say something.”

“You won regionals? So you’re going to the Frozen Four?”

A surprised laugh fell from his lips and then he nodded. “Yeah. As long as you’re in the crowd cheering for me as my girlfriend, none of this silly pretending anything less than that is enough.” He brushed his thumb across the top of my cheek and intoxicating warmth spread from his touch and traveled through my core. “What do you say?”

For the first time since we’d parted, I felt like I could finally take a full breath again. “I’ll be there. And I love you, too.”

Relief flooded his features, and then he crushed me to him and kissed me like he meant to imprint himself on my very soul.

People cheered in the background, and I knew we were making a spectacle of ourselves, but I didn’t care. I flung my arms around him and deepened the kiss, soaking in the feel of his body against mine, his strong hands gripping my waist, and how against all odds, I’d somehow ended up with the one thing I wanted most.

---