Curvy Girls Can't Date Quarterbacks - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,46

too strong because of your messages?”

“No way,” he said. “Beckett is done playing games. And you should be too.”

The light in his eyes told me he might know more than I wanted him to. But I so wasn’t going there. The guilt in my gut over the bet with Merritt was enough for me without adding on anyone else’s judgement.

Besides, if this worked with Beckett, I’d never play games again. I wouldn’t have to.

Twenty-Seven

“Rory, come help me with the salad,” Mom called.

I left the living room where I’d been sitting with Dad and Aiden, the three of us uncomfortable for totally different reasons. Them because they were about to have the man who’d negotiated Terry Tahone’s deal with the Brentwood Badgers and given our local team an actual chance at the Superbowl in our house. Me because Beckett was in my house to get my parents’ approval.

Mom had her red gingham apron on over a sharp black dress. That along with the display of healthy dishes on the island made her the picture of healthy domestication, a reminder of everything I was not.

“What do you need?” I asked. “Looks like you’re already done.”

“I am.” Her hands went behind her back to untie the apron. “I just wanted to talk.”

My feet were way ahead of me, taking a step back toward the living room and my dad’s unassuming presence. Which, now that I thought of it, was strange since he was a lawyer and my mom was a health teacher.

“Honey,” she chuckled. “You’re not in trouble. I just haven’t been able to catch you all week. Between parent-teacher conferences and Aiden’s race and you hanging out with your friends...I want to hear about your life.”

She leaned against the island, waiting.

I sighed and followed suit opposite her. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Beckett Langley, of course. What happened to bring that boy and his father to our house?”

“We so don’t have time to go into that,” I said before I could guard my words.

“What do you mean? It’s complicated?”

As in, my appearance at homecoming depends on him having mutual feelings? Yes, but I left it at, “We don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“I’ll say,” she said. “But then again, I’m not sure what circle you do run in. I never see you at lunch anymore, and when I did, you sat by yourself with your books.”

Suddenly the feeling of living in a fishbowl was stronger than ever. “I told you, I eat with the girls in the AV room so Ginger can stay on top of her extra work for the AV club.”

“You did.” She sighed and looked out the window over the sink into the darkening sky outside. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I stood up from the counter, folding my arms across my chest. “What does that mean?”

“I just...” She raised her hands and put them on the granite. “Beckett seems like a decent kid, but high schoolers aren’t always the nicest people. Trust me, I teach them every day.”

My mouth fell open. Was I hearing my own mother right? “So you think it’s a pity date?”

“Of course not.”

“Then he’s playing a prank on me?” The truth behind her words hit me. “You think he’s out of my league.” My chest ached. I knew it; I just didn’t expect my own mother to agree.

I left the kitchen, ready to text Beckett and tell him to forget it. That I could do whatever he and his dad wanted instead of sitting in on this dinner with my mom, who clearly thought I didn’t deserve a guy like Beckett.

Just as I’d reached my purse by the door, retrieved my phone, and opened my Sermo app, the doorbell rang.

Dad and Aiden sprang from the couch and surrounded me at the door.

“Answer it,” Dad whispered.

“Yeah.” Aiden pushed me slightly forward. “Answer it.”

I glanced at them over my shoulder. “Cowards.”

But I wasn’t much braver. With shaking hands, I opened the door, and there stood Beck, looking more amazing than I’d ever seen him before. I took him in—all of him—with his slacks that hugged him in all the right places, his navy suit jacket framing broad shoulders, and the dark green of his shirt, bringing out the depths of his hazel eyes. A smile fell onto my lips like it was just waiting for the missing piece that was Beckett Langley.

I barely even noticed the man beside him, who was just as built at Beck, but older, with a crooked nose that