Curvy Girls Can't Date Quarterbacks - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,34
was staying at Zara’s house for a school project—and I was—just not until after I met with Beckett.
It would just be him and me, but the girls and I gathered driftwood for a bonfire that would burn for hours if needed. We set a cooler with drinks nearby and even got out a couple of canvas chairs and blankets so Beckett and I wouldn’t have to lie on the sand or sit on hard, warped stumps.
Nervous didn’t even come close to describing the jitters spreading to every single part of my body. Soon, it would be just Beckett and me, and I’d have no one telling me which move to make next. This would be different than our encounters at the bakery—I’d asked Beckett to come. And he’d said yes.
“Are you sure I can do this?” I asked them.
“Of course,” Jordan said. “He’s coming; that’s half the battle.”
“Exactly,” Zara agreed. “And remember what he said on the recording? He’s done dating girls like Merritt. Now is your chance to show him what he needs.”
Callie reached out and adjusted my curls so they fell easily over my shoulder. “You look amazing.”
Ginger nodded. “He’d be crazy not to fall for you.”
People had complimented me before in my life. Sometimes it was off the cuff or on the followed a self-deprecating comment. Whether it came from my mom or a friend, I just had a hard time believing it, no matter how desperately I wanted to. I knew what I was, and I knew what I wasn’t. But I still thanked Callie. Her words came from a kind place.
Jordan looked over the setup. “Do you need anything else?”
“About a million times more confidence that this isn’t going to be a terrible disaster?” I only half-joked.
Ginger laughed. “See? Funny. He’ll love that.”
“Exactly,” Zara said. “He won’t even know what hit him.”
Light from Callie’s phone illuminated her face. “He should be here soon. We better go,” Callie said. “But chat us if you need anything. And tell us everything after.”
I gave her a soft smile. “I will.”
They walked away, the sand softly swishing under their feet. I stared at the waves, flicking my phone case away from the phone and letting it slap back until Zara’s car started up and pulled away.
With a sigh, I sat in one of the chairs with my feet extended toward the fire. This close to the ocean, it was cold at night—the saltwater chill easily seeped through my clothes and cooled me to the bone.
Or maybe that was the sinking feeling in my gut that told me Beckett wouldn’t come. That Merritt was right and I was just a charity case for him. Just the thought made me shiver.
But then footsteps sounded in the sand, and I looked over my shoulder to see Beckett walking easily toward me, his arms swinging at his sides.
He smiled an easy smile and lifted a hand. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I breathed, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. Still, he came closer and sat in the chair next to me.
“One beach party,” I said as I spread my arms wide. “Since you had to skip the last one to come after me.”
His smile crackled brighter than the fire. “I think we had more fun than them anyway.”
My stomach swooped. I knew I had. I just hadn’t expected him to feel that way. Or say those words.
“So,” he said. “Where we left off. I was going to ask you if you wanted a drink.”
“You were?”
He nodded, then gestured toward the cooler. “Would you like a drink?”
I giggled. I couldn’t help myself. “Yes, please.”
“Let’s see. We have...” He opened the cooler lid and scanned the contents. First, he pulled out a red sports drink and then a blue one. “Cherry daquiri or blueberry mule.”
I laughed. “Daquiri me.”
He handed it over, and we were silent for a moment as we twisted the caps open and drank.
“Honestly,” I said, “I’m not really sure what to do now. I haven’t been to many parties.”
Only one to be exact, and I’d left that one early. But I didn’t tell him that.
He smiled. “It’s easy. Just drink some cheap beer from a keg, make an ass of yourself, go home, fall asleep, then wake up regretting what you did the night before.”
“And you’re speaking from experience?”
He capped his drink and wedged it in the sand. “Oh, no, of course not. This is all theoretical.”
I laughed. “Well, theoretically, what should we do now?”