Curvy Girls Can't Date Quarterbacks - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,69

a second thought about it? That’s what I’d done. I’d used him and four girls to prove to Merritt—and myself—that I was worthy of love. But those actions just made me feel even less so.

Beckett: You like chocolate flavors more than fruity desserts.

Beckett: You like guys nicknamed hot pants.

Beckett: Even when everyone talks in math class, you stay quiet, just listening to the world around you.

Beckett: You stand up for others when they’re down.

Beckett: You create art with your heart instead of your mind.

Beckett: You are amazing.

Tears brimmed over my eyelashes and spilled over my cheeks. All this time, I’d been trying to get Beckett to see past my flaws, not realizing he hadn’t noticed them at all. He’d seen me. The best of me, when I’d only given him the worst.

Beckett: I have to go to bed, Cupcake, but I can’t wait for the game tomorrow, knowing you’ll be in the stands, cheering me on. It means everything to me.

Beckett: Good night, beautiful.

I held the phone to my chest like the words could fill my heart more than they already had. But really, it was hope I needed to be holding on to. The problem was, I couldn’t seem to find any.

Thirty-Nine

Homecoming was the one day of the year we could dress however we wanted—as long as it displayed school spirit.

There were thousand-dollar jeans paired with tight EA shirts, blue and white tutus—on girls and guys—and even one kid in a complete blue spandex body suit. I’d settled on one of the skirts Zara got me, flat tennis shoes, and one of my dad’s Emerson Academy T-shirts.

When I got to school, Beckett was easy to spot in the hallway. He always stood out, with his height and build, but today he was surrounded. Everyone wanted to wish him good luck for the game against our school’s biggest rival. Plus, the cheerleaders were going around using face paint to put the Drafter’s quill on everyone’s cheeks.

Beckett caught sight of me and grinned. At least half a dozen people followed his gaze to me, and the girls seemed to be disappointed.

I lifted my hand in half a wave, and he pushed through them toward me. As he passed a cheerleader, he said, “Can I have that?”

“Sure,” she said and handed him her face-paint pen.

When Beckett reached me, his smile was still in place. “Hey, Cupcake.”

Thinking of his words from the night before made my heart beat toward him. “Hi, hot pants.”

With a laugh, he lifted the face paint. “Do you want something on your cheek? A quill? Or maybe a certain quarterback’s number?”

“Oh.” I adjusted my backpack strap. “Well, is the quarterback good-looking?”

“I mean...” Beckett plucked at the jersey stretched across his broad chest. “Only if you’re into the whole chiseled-abs, Greek-god kind of thing.”

“How about the humble thing?”

He laughed. “Oh, he’s amazing at that too.”

Laughing, I pushed on his chest. “I would be honored.”

He came closer, one hand going behind my hair to hold the back of my head and the other resting featherlight on my cheek. The charge from his skin flowed through me as he made careful marks on my cheek.

When he finished, he stepped back, admiring his work.

“How’d it turn out?” I asked.

He nodded appreciatively. “Not bad.” He reached into his pocket and got out his phone. “Let me take a picture.”

I was pretty sure Beckett would be the only person ever allowed to take pictures of me. Especially when he tucked me into his side so we could both fit on his phone screen together.

The side of his cheek brushed into my hair, and we both smiled at the screen. With a press of his finger, we were frozen together, forever, his jersey number on my cheek showing everyone I was his.

Even if he didn’t want to be mine after tonight, I would always, always, be his.

School that day passed in a flurry of activity until classes let out early for the pep rally. There was always a giant hubbub before the homecoming game, which the teachers tried to act like was less important than academics. If that were true, Kai Rush and Pixie Adler would be gods among the seniors with his skills on the violin and her insanely high grade point averages.

Instead, we worshipped the girls in tight skirts and the guys in tight pants. The cheerleaders always did a routine during the pep rally and held up hand-painted signs. The football players stood in a line in the gym while Coach Ripley talked