As the team headed for the lockers, I followed, trying not to feel awkward.
Becks and I had never been weird around each other before. Not even after I’d told him about my secret life-long crush on Lucius Malfoy from the Harry Potter series. That hair, the voice, that whole uptight baddie/aristocrat thing... It was embarrassing, but the guy was just yum. This couldn’t be any bigger than that, could it?
Yeah, right, I thought, hanging back. This was so much bigger than my Lucius confession. This wasn’t some fantasy; it was real life. The butterflies running amok in my insides could attest to that fact.
“You catch that last one, Spitz, or were you too busy staring at Mr. Wonderful?”
Grateful for the distraction, I pulled out my inner Southern Belle. “Well, goodness gracious sakes alive. Is the Ash Stryker, aka The Whip, speaking to little ol’ me?”
“Funny,” Ash said. “So did you see it or what?”
“Yeah, I saw. I always knew you had a hard head, Ash. Thanks for the proof.”
He scoffed.
We were getting closer and closer to Becks, so I decided to quit teasing. “Can I get a comment? That was a pretty sweet play.”
He came to a sudden stop. “Pretty sweet?”
“Alright,” I said, turning back around, “it was awesome, tremendous, truly masterful. That better?”
“Much.” Ash’s lips curved up in an almost smile. “Here’s a comment for you, Spitz. Becks needs to keep his head in the game. That’s the only way we’re going to win state again this year. Everyone’s gunning for us.”
“My head’s always in the game, Stryker.”
I jumped at the sound of Becks’s voice then felt like an idiot.
“Didn’t look that way at half-time,” Ash said.
“Whatever, man.” Becks came up beside me. “Why don’t you hit the showers? Sal and I need to talk.”
Ash shrugged then walked off.
“I really don’t like that guy,” Becks said, staring after him.
“He’s okay,” I said. Becks looked at me like I’d gone mental, which brought back the fluttering. Great, now I couldn’t even look him in the eye. I cleared my throat. “What’s this about Saturday? I can’t come at ten. You know I’ve got to work until noon.”
“Oh,” Becks said, leaning back, “Make it one then. I thought we could work on a few things. I mean, if we want people to take the boyfriend thing seriously, we need to make it as authentic as possible, right?”
“What things?”
He smiled at my nervousness. “You’ll see.”
His cryptic reply annoyed me enough to kill a few of the chest insects dead, but the smile brought them back to life full force. By the time I got them under control and met Hooker at the car, she was looking pretty ticked.
“It took you that long to get a couple of lame quotes?” was the first thing she said as we got in the car.
“I was talking to Becks,” I retorted.
“Becks,” she repeated as if she’d never heard the name. “Becks, your boyfriend?”
I gritted my teeth. Her absolute refusal to believe my perfectly good lie was starting to get to me. “That’s the one.”
“You know what Spitz, there’s this guy named Alex. He’s a tattoo artist. I think you guys’d really hit it off.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Or if you’re into athletes, there’s John Poole. He goes to school with Will, pitcher for the Tarheels. Great guy, real smart. I could introduce—”
“Hooker,” I interrupted, “I appreciate the offer, but I have a boyfriend. Becks is pretty laid back, but I’m not sure he’d be too happy about me dating other guys.”
Hooker sniffed and reached between us to turn on the radio.
Whatever Becks had planned had better be good, I thought. It was clear Hooker wasn’t going to hang up her matchmaking gloves without a fight. When we pulled up in front of her house, she shifted to face me instead of getting out immediately.
I killed the engine. Going by her thoughtful expression, we were going to be here for a bit.
“But it’s just so weird,” she said finally.
“What is?” I asked.
“You and Becks.”
“And why is that weird? We hang out all the time. We’ve been friends forever. There’s no one I trust more, except maybe you and Mom.”
“That’s my point.” She grimaced. “It’s almost incestuous, like he’s your brother or something.”
I snorted. “Becks is so not my brother.”
“Yeah, but he acts like he is.” Hooker’s tone turned philosophical. “This is what comes from watching too many episodes of Star Trek. It’s just not healthy. Next thing you know you’ll be wearing doughnuts over your ears and calling yourself Princess Spitz.”