on the other hand? The idea was looking more appealing every second that passed with Merritt Alexander.
“I’ll pass,” I said, sending her a glare, then turned to Ginger. “Truth or dare?”
“You can’t pass,” Merritt asserted.
As if sensing their ringleader in distress, Tinsley and Poppy echoed her sentiment. Loudly, and with a lot of giggling.
“Yes I can,” I said, lifting my chin.
Zara murmured just so I could hear her, “That’s right.”
“Well, if that’s the case,” Merritt said with a smile as fake as her mother’s boobs, “I can answer for you. You thought you could come here because you have this deluded idea that people like you belong with people like us.” She gestured at her and Beckett. “You were wrong, for the record.”
The stinging in my eyes increased, and the only thing worse than leaving was staying and letting Merritt see me cry.
I turned and walked away as fast as I could manage in the sand. There were angry words exchanged behind me, but I didn’t care. I was walking toward the water, toward the packed sand that would let my legs carry me even farther away from my enemy.
That was, until I heard Beckett call my name.
Fifteen
I stalled. Was that really Beckett, or was I fantasizing about something that was clearly never going to happen?
He caught up with me and fell into step beside me. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” I looked over at him, then back at the wet sand, growing darker the farther we got from the fires.
“I—” He faltered. Because there was nothing to say. Merritt was right. The head cheerleader belonged with the quarterback, and the fat artsy girl would get her chance with some porkchop-shaped investment banker in college.
“It’s okay,” I said, sparing him the lie that was sure to come.
He stopped and took my hand.
My legs wobbled. His skin was warm on mine, and something about his touch sent my stomach rolling with the tide.
“It’s not okay,” he said, his hazel eyes storming with the ocean. “Merritt had no right to say that to you. And for the record, she was wrong.”
I searched his gaze for a hint of a joke to come but only found the truth. He was telling the truth.
“I don’t want to go back there,” I said.
“Then don’t.” He gripped my hand tighter and led me back toward the deep sand of the beach. Toward the abandoned parking lot. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
My mouth fell open, then closed. I couldn’t argue with Beckett Langley. Not when his large hand was enveloping mine. Making my hand feel small instead of meaty for the first time in my life. Whatever adventure he was walking toward, I was following, no matter what.
“Do you need to tell your friends?” he asked.
My friends. Allies, more like it. I shook my head. “I can send them a text.”
He nodded and kept walking through the thick sand.
We reached his Mercedes, and he hit the unlock button. There were people walking past us in the parking lot, but Beckett ducked his head away and got into his car before anyone noticed him. He was flying under the radar? I didn’t understand it. Was he embarrassed to be with me?
I liked him, but past history and basically every rom com told me I needed to be on guard. To watch out for secret enemies. But something told me Beckett was different. That he was genuinely kind. I walked to the passenger side, trying to catch my breath before I’d be in such close quarters with him.
The passenger door popped open, and I jumped, only settling when I realized Beckett had opened it for me from the inside.
“Get in,” he said, giving the door an extra push so it would stay open for me. It wasn’t a request. It was an order.
I ducked into his car and sat in the leather seat. Without thinking, I buckled my seatbelt.
As he backed out, he said, “Do you want to know where we’re going?”
I bit my lip and met his eyes. “I like surprises.” Especially when they involved him and me somewhere on our own.
I fired off a Sermo chat with way too many exclamation points and then put my phone in my purse. I wasn’t wasting any of these moments with my face in a screen.
He started down the cracked streets, his car taking the bumps as easily as Zara’s had. My eyes flitted around the car. Beckett’s car. Beckett Langley’s car.
What did the necklace hanging from his rearview mirror mean?