girl at Emerson.” I didn’t say including me.
He shook his head like the fact was annoying. “You mean my quarterback status and my rich dad could have any girl.”
“Don’t forget the hot bod,” I said before thinking. My cheeks and ears and neck instantly flushed red hot.
He winked at me. “That’s just a given.”
I laughed, but my heart hurt for him. Wasn’t that exactly what this bet was about? Proving someone like me could land a guy like him? Not because of his heart or his eye for beauty or creative soul but because of his status?
It may have started out like that, but now it was more. Beckett was exactly the kind of guy I’d dreamed of but never imagined I could have. And that thought scared the crap out of me. So, I did what I did best: diverted my attention to something easier to handle.
“So where is Dulce Periculum tonight?” I asked.
He put his car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. “I heard that they’re stunting out at Emerson Trails, but I’m not convinced. Why would they go somewhere so public?”
I shrugged. “What’s the point in showing off if no one can see?”
He tapped his temple. “See? Smart.”
“My parents pay plenty of tuition to make sure of that.”
He half snorted, half laughed. “Same.”
“Where will they be on the trails?”
His headlights panned over the parking lot of the trailhead. There weren’t any cars there, but the DP guys were smart. They wouldn’t leave their cars out for just anyone to find.
“My guess is near the riverbank where it curves near the trail, since that would account for a land and water stunt, but I have no idea.” He killed the engine and got out, and I walked along the empty parking lot with him toward the trailhead.
Emerson Trails started in one place but branched out into different paths that extended nearly ten miles a piece. I knew because my mom had made morning walks while Aiden trained for cross-country a summer ritual. Not that it had moved the needle on my weight.
“What’s wrong?” Beckett asked.
I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets and shook my head. “Nothing.” I forced a smile. “Just cold.”
He put his arm around me and rubbed my shoulder. The contact had the opposite effect and sent chills through my entire body. How could Beckett affect me so much through a down winter coat?
I had no idea, but here I was, shivering.
“Oh, I think—” He dug through his pockets and brought out a small plastic package. “Hand warmers. I have them left from skiing last year.”
Grateful, I took the packets from him and rolled them between my fingers in my pockets. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Dirt crunched beneath our feet as we walked down the dark path. My eyes had adjusted so I could see the lighter shades of the path and the darkness that lay behind the trees. It helped that I’d taken this way countless times over the summer with my mom pumping her arms beside me. Beckett was much better company. While Mom always shared her thoughts, Beckett’s simmered beneath the surface. I imagined all that could be behind his glittering hazel eyes.
“Why did you start coming to the football games?” he asked.
My eyebrows rose. That came out of nowhere. And I couldn’t believe he’d noticed. “How did you—”
“I pay attention more than people think.”
The way he said it made me look down. It was true. I always kind of thought Beckett was in this elite bubble separate from the rest of the real people in the school. The ones who didn’t look like famous actors or future politicians.
But his question was still there, and I answered it. “Because of you.”
His head swung over to take me in. “Yeah?”
The cover of darkness emboldened me, giving me the courage I needed to keep walking beside him and not dodge behind a tree. “Yes. I like watching you play.”
“It’s the pants, isn’t it?”
“A little bit.” I laughed, thinking of Ginger’s chat from earlier. “But really it’s you.”
“Me?”
I nodded, scuffing my toe over the dirt. “You’re like the eye of a hurricane on the field—so focused while everyone moves around you. I wish I had that much command over anything in my life.”
I used to have that kind of control—when my days included the safe routine of school and painting when I had a spare moment or two. But now? I’d been launched into a world I didn’t understand. One where Beckett Langley had