Adorkable(40)

Becks and I nodded.

Guess this would be the end of our lessons. Too bad, I was looking forward to what lesson three might be.

As I was leaving, Mrs. Kent made sure to invite me and my mom to the Kent Family Cookout. It was late October; the last game of normal season play would be this week before they announced the area/region qualifiers. Chariot was sure to make the sectionals, and it was the perfect time to bring the family together, a two birds situation. They all got to eat great food and see Becks play (and most likely win).

I said I would come—what else could I do? Having three Kents, two with Becks’s persuasive eyes, staring back at me I couldn’t say no, didn’t want to.

But when Monday rolled around, I was rethinking my answer.

Again.

I’d changed my mind and changed it back too many times to count. The smart thing would be not to go. There’d be too many people, my mom, the Kents, Becks’s brothers. They knew me and Becks better than anyone. The cookout was a minefield. One slip, that’s all it would take. Mom had yet to see us together after the big announcement, and though Becks’s parents were on board now, none of them had watched the two of us together for any length of time. The odds of discovery had never been higher.

School was out today because of a state-wide teacher’s conference, so I couldn’t use German Club or having to stay after as my excuse to avoid the cookout. The library was closed for electrical repairs. My options weren’t looking good.

Cleaning the gutters was supposed to help clear my head. There were layers and layers of build up. I didn’t think they’d been cleaned once the entire twelve years we’d owned the place. Mom hadn’t done it. We hadn’t hired anyone. I sure as heck hadn’t climbed my butt up here to do it. But today, with the cookout fast approaching and no way out in sight, I’d needed something. The ladder I was using was a rusted out old heap that came with the house. I’d been at it nearly two hours; my mind was supposed to be a million miles away. The dirt and grime, the dead leaves, the pure grossness of the task should’ve diverted my attention...but it didn’t.

“Crap,” I said, suddenly dislodging a huge clump of gunk, “there’s nothing I can do.”

“Hey!”

The exclamation caught me by surprise, and I lost my footing. My arms were what saved me. They shot out completely on reflex, latched on to one of the gutters and didn’t let go. The ladder was long gone, laying somewhere in the grass below. The oversize workman’s gloves didn’t help me now. It was next to impossible to get a good grip.

“A little warning next time would be nice, Sal.”

Without looking I knew that voice.

“Becks,” I said calm as possible—which wasn’t calm at all. My hands were already slipping. “Could you get the ladder?”

“So you can what,” he scoffed, “pull a Catwoman and spring onto the thing? Sal, just drop. I’ll catch you.”

I vigorously shook my head.

“Just get the ladder, please.”

“Sal, I’m standing right beneath you. I’ll catch you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I—God, Sal, stop being so stubborn and just drop.”

I whimpered, fingers slipping another inch.

“I’ll catch you. I promise.”

“You better,” I said then let go.

I couldn’t control my girlish shriek, but Becks made no sound as I fell gracelessly into his arms. He caught me like he did this every day, as if girls dangling from rain gutters were his specialty. Who knew? Maybe they were.

Raising my head, I asked, “Have you done this before?”

“Never,” he said, eyes smiling.

“You sure?”

“Positive.” He gave me a pointed look. “But you know, unlike some people, when I say I’ll catch someone, I actually do it.”

I sighed. Of course, he would bring that up. “You’re never going to let it go, are you?”

“Nope,” he said and readjusted his hold. Surprised, I gripped his neck with both hands. “Some things are hard to forget.”

“I said I was sorry about a million times.”

“I know.”

“And I was the one who got hurt, not you.”

“I know, Sal.”

“Then why do you always bring it up?” I muttered.

“Best day of my life.” Becks shrugged, jostling me again, and I narrowed my eyes. Of all the times I’d asked him that exact question, he never gave a straight answer.

Mom came out of the house toting five food trays and smiled when she saw us.

“Hi, Becks,” she said, as I scrambled to my feet, cheeks flaming. “Dare I ask?”