Page 38 of Dibs
Beck must have overheard at least part of my argument with Sean. She had to have, because it’s the only thing that explains both her momentary lapses of letting me too close, and the other moments of pushing me away.
Beck’s probably pondering her own feelings or lack thereof, and if she does have feelings for me, she’s terrified of them.
Shit. What’s the right move here? Not for me; for Beck. She lost Sean after putting up with his bullshit for so long, expecting a ring that never came. Her heart’s been obliterated by his pattern of cheating, and now she’s probably heard how Sean called dibs on her the night we spotted her. Maybe she hates me for letting his “dibs” go unchallenged. I know I hate myself for it every single day, and I imagine all the ways things could have gone differently. Even Beck told me she wishes she could rewind and change things.
Maybe we can.
Suddenly, Beck appears at the top of the steps and asks, “What do you think?”
When I turn on the overhead lights, I spot her standing with her hands on her hips in a two-piece, white-and-gray-striped nightgown, her once golden hair now the same shade of pink it had been when I’d first seen her behind the punch bowl on that fateful night.
I’m stunned—she’s stunning. She looks every bit as angelic as she did the night we met, when I was too much of a pussy to tellSean to eat shit. If I’d had even the slightest knowledge of who Beck was at the time, I would have trampled over Sean’s body to get to her first. There’s nothing I won’t do for Beck. I just have to hope she’s amenable to what comes next.
“Come here,” I demand, standing up and meeting her at the bottom of the steps.
I let out a deep breath, anxiety taking hold of me. “Hi there…I just wanted to tell you that you’re beautiful. I really love your pink hair. My name is Deacon. This is my frat house. Would you like a margarita?”
Her eyes soften, and a smile eases across her face. “Hey, I’m Aspyn Beckett, but my best friend in the world calls me Beck. I’d love a margarita. This punch sucks. I think there’s Red Bull in it. Who does that?” Beck’s nose wrinkles, and I reach out for her hand, which she gives me. “You don’t have a skeezy dark-haired friend here that’s about to give me some cheap line about my clothes looking better on his floor, do you?”
“Friend? Who? I don’t see anyone here. It’s just us.” I look around the room exaggeratedly and ask, “Is it your first frat party?”
“Yes. I came with my roommate, but I think she’s sucking face with some block-headed football player, and I just transferred here, so I have no idea how to get back to my dorm from here.”
“Then, let’s have a margarita, and then I’ll walk you back and get you home safe. So, what’s your major?” I hold both her hands in mine and stare into her eyes, feeling a deep vulnerability.
“Psychology. I love to figure out how people work, what they want, and what makes them tick. I like to think I’ve got a hidden talent for mind-reading. Do you want me to read yours?” Beck asks.
I chuckle. “I should say no. I’m just a nineteen-year-old frat boy with no idea what I plan on doing with my life. Right now, Ithink I’m going to be a lead singer in a hit band. Pop with heavy synth. My band breaks up after a two-week tour, though I don’t know that yet.”
“You’ll figure out what you’re meant to do. And as for the mind-reading, it’s simple. You think I look like a fucking angel beneath these twinkly lights,” Beck whispers, stepping closer to my chest as she places her hands flat on it. “And you love my pink hair. See, mind reading.”
Beck confirms my suspicion. She heard everything I told Sean the night of the barbecue. My face heats under her wide-eyed stare.
“I just told some asshole to get lost. He tried to call dibs on the most beautiful girl in the place. He would have been all wrong for you,” I say quietly, still playing along as we replay the night we met, exactly the way it should have gone down. I train my eyes on her luscious, pale pink lips. “And I know that you’ve been hurt before, and since we’ve just met, this is a big leap. But I’d like to touch that gorgeous hair and taste your lips, Aspyn Beckett. Before the night’s over.”
I reach out and run my hand through her damp but soft hair, and her eyes seem to dilate as they fix on mine.
“Why wait? I’ve been waiting nineteen years for my first kiss, and now seems as good a time as any,” Beck whispers as she tiptoes and presses the entirety of her chest against mine, her arms encircling my neck.
I tilt my face towards hers, and Beck's eyes look like a green blaze, bright and sparkling. I back up a few steps, the rough plaster of the wall pressing against my back as I finally stop. Beck follows me step for step, until she presses her body against mine. Her tongue darts out, and she sexily licks her lower lip.
“I’m going to take my time with you, Beck,” I whisper to both versions of Beck: both nineteen and twenty-nine. "Savor the way you feel as I slide my hands up your shirt to your waist…"The whisper-soft brush of my fingers against the cotton of her pajamas sends electricity through my fingertips. She’s got to feel it buzzing through her skin.
My hands settle on her warm, slim waist, skin smooth and soft against my fingertips.
“And I’ll kiss you slowly, taste your delectable skin,” I demonstrate, the feather-light touch of my lips on her temple, her forehead, then a playful brush against the tip of her nose. Beck grins, a flash of straight, white teeth, as I playfully nibble her nose. I rain down a cascade of kisses on her chin and jawline as my hand slides under her shirt. I hold her close, the scent of her strawberry-scented soap filling the air. The night we met blends seamlessly into this October Thursday, both nights merging into a straightforward desire: Beck.
Her fingers cup my cheeks, pulling my face toward hers. Her minty breath fills my nostrils as her hazel eyes flutter shut, her lips parting. My mouth finds hers, and it’s filled with aching tenderness and desperate need. Her kiss is soft yet urgent, and her hand clenches the fabric of my blue Henley as I open my mouth to hers. Quiet desperation hums between us, and then Beck’s soft, smooth tongue darts out and seeks mine, a taste of longing fulfilled after ten years of waiting.
“I hear you’re the one who wants to stay forever,” Beck whispers as she pulls back to catch her breath, her hands up in my hair, which she tugs between her fingers, my body buzzing with need for hers.
“If you give me this one chance, that’s a promise I’m ready to make. I’ll call dibs on the rest of your life,” I promise her, my heart hammering in my chest as she looks up at me with vulnerability and adoration.
Thank god. Thank god my pink-haired Beck is back. The girl she was back then was anything but shy; she was confident, alluring, and whip smart. That was before Sean picked her apartfor ten years. But as she stands in front of me, waiting for our next hot kiss, I know that girl isn’t too far gone.
“You’ve been holding on to that since the night of the barbecue, letting me think you hadn’t heard. No wonder you’ve been acting so strangely after hearing my confessions. I wanted to give you time, Beck, but I will if you need me to. What should I do here?”
“Kiss me again,” she whimpers.
