Curvy Girls Can't Date Quarterbacks - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,33
inside just in time to hear Carson ask Beckett if he was taking anyone to homecoming.
“That’s still a month and a half away,” Beckett said.
My heart immediately fell that my name hadn’t spilled off his lips. Part of me was tempted to run away and let the girls break it to me easy, but I needed to hear this—needed to have all the information.
“Any ideas?” Carson asked, popping a tab on a new can of soda.
“Maybe,” Beckett said. “You?”
Carson hesitated. “Maybe.”
“Not Callie?” Beckett asked.
Zara whistled.
Callie blushed.
Carson started coughing. “What? Why would you say that?” He was still coughing, so he took another drink.
Beckett’s smile was undeniable. “No reason. She’s pretty.”
Was it the wide camera angle or did I see Carson’s back stiffen?
“You think she’s pretty?” Carson asked.
“Yeah, for you?”
“What does that mean?”
Beckett threw a pillow at him. “It means I don’t want to make you jealous!”
Carson flung the pillow back. “So you do think she’s pretty? Or at least her type.”
“Her type?” Beckett laughed.
“Curvaceous,” Carson said awkwardly. “You know, something to hold on to and all that.”
I would have been laughing if I weren’t so nervous for Beckett’s answer. Carson was trying so hard to say the right thing with all of us girls listening. Beckett didn’t have that privilege.
“I don’t know,” he said. “After being with Merritt, I’m ready for something different. Something real.”
“So...real boobs?”
“Ew,” Ginger said. “Is this locker room talk?”
Zara shushed her.
“You’re lucky I don’t have another pillow.” Beckett chuckled.
Zara frowned. “Guess we’ll never know if they’re real.”
The boys were joking, but I still sat on the edge of my seat, counting down the seconds until Beckett’s next words.
Carson leaned back, relaxing again. “So what would it take for a girl to steal the heart of Emerson Academy’s ‘dream boat’?” He made his voice all breathy, and Beckett laughed again.
“Asking for yourself?” He chuckled. “Explains why you haven’t asked Callie out yet.”
Carson must have rolled his eyes, because Beckett continued, “I don’t want a girl who pretends to know about football so she can talk to me. I want her to have interests outside of how hot Ryde Alexander’s ass looks in his jeans or the next sale they can grab at Emerson Shoppes. I want her to be funny and sweet but not boring. And as far as curves go, I—”
The audio cut out, and black lines sizzled across the image before going completely black.
“Crap!” Ginger cried.
“What happened?” I asked. I needed to hear what he said about curves. Did he want them? But just in the way skinny people talked about curves? As in C cups instead of A cups? Or did he really mean he wanted curves—something to hold on to when he kissed a girl...or more?
Ginger frantically tapped at the screen but gave up after a few seconds. “The battery in the main connection died.” She groaned, putting her forehead on the desk and tangling her fingers in her curly hair. “Great.”
Callie got out her phone. “I’ll text Carson and let him know we’re off the air.” She sighed. “Sorry, guys.”
Jordan shrugged. “It’s not your fault they watched two hours of a game before saying anything.”
“Yeah,” Zara agreed. “But I think we got what we needed.”
“What?” I cried. “We never even heard what he said about curves!”
She shook her head as if she knew something that was right in front of me. “Of course he wants curves. Every guy wants curves. They just might not know it yet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Have you communicated that to the rest of the male population?”
Zara rolled her eyes right back. “Did you just hear Beckett? He described you word for word! You’ve got a real shot at this.”
My heart flew, soared, peaked. “You really think so?” I looked at the others for confirmation.
They each gave it.
My lips formed a smile. I couldn’t stop it anymore.
“You’ve got to ask him out,” Zara said, pointing at my phone in my hand. “Make the next move. Text him.”
“But what do I say?” I asked.
Callie shrugged. “Let’s hang out?”
“No,” Jordan said, “that’s too open-ended.”
“Don’t look at me,” Ginger said. “My parents would never even let me look at a guy.”
Zara said, “What does your gut tell you?”
My fingers hovered over my phone before carefully typing each letter.
Rory: I think I owe you a beach party. Meet me at Seaton Pier after your shift at the bakery?
Within a minute, my phone went off.
Beckett: See you then, Cupcake.
Nineteen
The girls helped me get ready for the “party” Tuesday night. My parents thought I