Curvy Girls Can't Date Quarterbacks - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,72

stands for me.

“However,” Merritt continued, “you might know her better as Cupcake!” She turned to Beckett, whose scowl was darkening by the second. “That was a cute nickname. You never gave me one quite that adorable.” She faced the crowd again. “I hope you all enjoy the cupcakes as a little celebratory treat.”

I reached the edge of the bleachers, opened the gate, and stepped onto the track. “Merritt!” I yelled. “Stop.”

“There she is!” Merritt cried. “Our woman of the hour.” She lifted the crown from her perfectly done hair. “I believe this is yours.”

I froze, ten feet away from her and Beckett. His eyes bored into me, seeking an answer I couldn’t begin to give.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between us. “Is it true?”

“Which part?” I asked.

His lips parted. “The bet,” he murmured. “Did you bet Merritt you could make me fall in love with you? Tell me you didn’t do that.”

“She did,” Merritt said loudly. “And it looks like she won.”

The crowd was hushed, and I reached for Beckett.

He stepped away, his hurt clear in the tremble of his jaw.

“Becks,” I said. “Please.”

“No, Rory. I’m not a game.” His voice rose with each word. “I’m not some piece of meat girls can toy with to get more status!”

“It wasn’t like that!” I said. “I can explain. Please, Beckett, let me explain.” I reached for his hand, but he pulled away again. It hurt worse this time.

“You don’t need to explain.” He turned to walk away, but spun back, shaking his finger. “You know what the problem is with you? Girls like you think you’re so much better than girls like her.” He jabbed his finger at Merritt. “But you’re not! You care every bit as much about your looks and your popularity as she does—about what dating me looks like to everyone else—but you know the difference between you and her? At least she’s honest about it.”

Stifled tears reached my eyes and threatened to collapse me more effectively than any of the football players had done to each other the entire game. “Beck,” I begged. For what? At this point, I didn’t know.

“You bet her you could make me fall in love with you. Yes or no?”

I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. I only nodded.

Beckett stared at the ground, and when his hazel eyes met mine, they were rimmed with red. “Congratulations, Rory. You won.”

He ran to the rest of his team, past them, toward the locker room, as I called after him, but it was no use. He was gone.

A cupcake landed on the field near me, and soon a deluge of desserts fired at me, over and over again until I was covered in cake and frosting and sobbing with everything I had.

Vaguely, I heard someone on the PA demanding order, but they had nothing on the inertia of the crowd. I didn’t escape until Aiden’s and Casey’s arms wrapped around me and led me off the field as fast as my shaking legs could carry me.

Beckett might have thought I’d won, but tonight, I’d lost everything that mattered.

Forty-Two

Aiden and Casey brought me to the junior high girls’ locker room. Aiden stood by the door while Casey walked with me. There were tears in her dark eyes as she helped me remove my shirt. It was completely caked with frosting and rubbed against my skin. Fire tore at my thighs, and when we took off my pants, red patches of bleeding skin showed where I’d chafed on the run over here.

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Aiden! We need a first-aid kit,” she yelled toward the door.

I shook my head. “I just need new clothes.”

Wordlessly, she rose and walked to the door. I heard the swish of the weather strip on the bottom for the door and soft voices before the heavy metal slammed shut.

I was alone.

My feet chilled on the cement floor as I walked to the showers. I hadn’t used these since they forced us to shower after gym class in fifth grade, but the handle squealed just as loudly now as it had then.

Ice-cold water splattered over the cement and then warmed. I stepped under, letting the force of the stream work on my hair. Pink diluted frosting spilled over my shoulders, down the rise and fall of my stomach, all the way to the silver drain before disappearing. Each drop of the water stung my battered skin, and the fresh wounds on my legs seared with pain.