swapped well-worn denim for dark jeans and an even darker sweater. With his skin washed out by streetlights and neon, he looked intense, leaned up against the brick wall like that.
“Holy hotness,” Ginger breathed.
“He’s working those jeans,” Zara agreed.
“Mmhmm,” Jordan said.
Callie grinned. “You’re going to have a great time.”
I bit my bottom lip. Why did it feel like I was stepping into my destiny instead of out of a car?
Zara slowed along the curb. “We’ll go park. You get your man.”
My hand shook on the handle, knowing he couldn’t see me through the tinted glass. I looked back at them. “Are you sure I can do this? Be with him, in front of...everyone?” Fears overwhelmed me of being made fun of or having Beckett see me the way everyone else did.
Jordan put a hand on my shoulder. “He asked you here. The school’s star quarterback survived dinner with your entire family just so he could take you out, and you think you don’t belong here?”
I smiled, glancing out the window at Beckett, then back at the girls. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Anything to get back at Merritt,” Ginger said.
I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach and pushed the door open. Tonight was about me and Beckett. I’d worry about what would happen after we made things official—if that ever happened.
The second I stepped out of the car and Beckett saw me, his lips spread into a smile and he pushed off the wall to greet me. “You look amazing, Cupcake.”
My cheeks warmed, even under the cool air. “You think?”
“I know.” His fingers brushed the bare skin of my arm, leaving goosebumps. “You’re cold. Let’s get you inside.”
He paid our covers and led me into the club. The calm world of downtown Brentwood was replaced by this pulsating music and strobe lights. People were everywhere I looked—dancing in front of the DJ’s stand, ordering drinks at the bar, mingling around standing tables—but all I could focus on was Beckett and his hand in mine.
His lips were close to my ear as he said, “Can I get you a soda?”
I nodded, afraid if I moved my lips they would land on his.
We snaked through the crowd of people and eventually ended up at the bar. A couple of guys from our school were there, and they slapped Beckett high fives on the win.
“Who’s this?” one of them asked, nodding toward me. Toward the space where mine and Beckett’s hands were joined. There was a clear question in his eyes, like the equation of Beck and Me didn’t figure.
“Rory,” Beckett yelled back, handing me a glass with fizzing brown liquid.
“She your girl?” the other asked, not letting it rest.
Beckett’s eyes trailed my body. “If she’ll have me.”
With his gaze still on me, I felt something I’d never felt before. I almost couldn’t place it. Sexy. I felt sexy.
The guys lost it, like I was doing semi-internally, whooping and hollering.
“Does Merritt know?” the first one asked.
Beckett ignored his straw and drank from his cup. “Who cares?”
They slapped more high fives, but Beckett was already done with the conversation, focusing on me. “I see an empty table.”
He led me through the crowd, and I might have been imagining it, but I could have sworn he was holding my hand even tighter now. He found the empty table for us to stand by, and I leaned against it as I set down my cup. Just as I opened my mouth to tell Beckett that I would most certainly, without a doubt, have him, the music stalled, and the DJ’s voice came over the sound system.
“Hello, fam!” his voice boomed over a soft techno beat. “We’re about to get this party started, but first I want to congratulate Emerson Academy and Brentwood Academy on their wins tonight!”
Everyone in the crowd went wild, but I nudged Beckett’s arm, grinning at him. He had to know at least part of this cheering was due to his hard work tonight.
Beckett rewarded me with a bashful smile. That would never stop being cute.
“Seaton,” the DJ said, “better luck next time.” The sound of a deflating balloon played over the speakers.
We laughed as the DJ went on. “As you know, tonight’s karaoke night. Come to the stand to sign up and request your song while the rest of us get our groove thang on.”
Beckett nodded toward the DJ stand and mimicked the DJ’s voice. “Are we getting our groove thang on?”
I nearly snorted out my Dr. Pepper. “No way.”
“Really? I’m