“You wrote that?” I asked.
Becks wouldn’t look at me. “Yep.”
“For me?”
He nodded, but still wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Leaning in, I kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” I murmured.
Becks looked at me then, surprised. “What’s that for?”
“It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Catching myself, I lowered my voice so only he could hear. “Plus, our parents are watching, remember?”
“Sure,” he said, lifting my hand for a kiss, but there was something strange in his tone. “You coming to the game? It’s the last one before sectionals.”
“Of course,” I smiled. “I want to see you kick Boulder High’s butt as much as anyone.” Raising my voice again, I added, “Besides, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?”
His face seemed to close off, but I put that down to embarrassment. Before I left, I pulled Mrs. Kent aside and asked for the poem. She said it was mine anyway and gave it up without question. By the time I went to sleep that night, I’d read it thirteen times.
I hope one day she’ll be my gal.
Ah Becks, I thought on the verge of sleep. I always have been.
CHAPTER 10
Guilt. It was eating me up from the inside out, and all I could do was sit there and rot while Becks made his third goal of the night. The crowd cheered, he pumped his fist, the fans on Boulder’s side groaned. The boy was on fire. Girls were giving him the eye, catcalls flying left and right, the loudest coming from a pretty brunette about two rows down, holding a sign that read, “Becks, will you marry me?” encased in a big, glittery pink heart.
“You gonna let her get away with that?” Hooker asked at my side.
“What can I do about it?” I mumbled. “She’s not hurting anyone.”
Hooker frowned at me. “I tell you what I’d do. If Becks was my man, I’d rip that sign right up and throw it back in her face, teach her what’s what.”
“I can’t do that.”
“It’d serve her right.”
I was a bad person, a full-on hypocrite, because that’s what I’d been itching to do ever since I spotted the poster. The urge came on extra-strong when the girl tried to flash Becks as he turned around at halftime, scanning the stands.
“Hey, Becks,” Ollie shouted, “I don’t think the guys from Penn saw that one. You want to make it an even four?”
“Yeah,” Thad said. “UCLA was looking, though. Maybe they want you more.”
“My vote’s Michigan,” Clayton called from the bench.
“UNC,” someone hollered and was greeted by a round of cheers.
“Indiana!”
“Gotta be Louisville!”
“No way, Ohio!”
“So, what’s it gonna be, son?”
Becks shrugged as the crowd called out more schools, and the recruiters tried to look unruffled. They were doing a poor job of it. Every single one of them was on the edge of their seats, straight-back, tense, waiting to hear Becks’s answer. It was due any day now. They’d been waiting for months. Apart from scoring three, Becks had already made five steals, two assists and blocked a couple goals. It was one of the main reasons they wanted him. He was just as strong on defense as he was on offense.
“Becks, you’re so hot!” The brunette’s voice was loud and high like a siren. The sound made the hairs on my neck stand up. “Come to my party this Saturday?”
“No, come home with me,” this from a fiery redhead a few seats away. “I’ll show you a good time.”
I decided then and there I disliked the color red.
“Hey,” the brunette shrieked. “He’s mine!”
Red flipped her hair. “Keep dreamin’ honey.”
“Hey.” Hooker stood, glaring at the two of them until they turned. “Becks is the property of Sally Sue Spitz. This girl—” She pointed at me, and I cringed. “—He’s her boyfriend, you got that? Leave him be.”
“Yeah, lay off,” Leo added. A couple more “yeahs” came from the surrounding area, people I didn’t even know. I sank further into my seat.
The girls scoffed, but stopped arguing.
“Good.” Hooker eased back down, satisfied.
Locking eyes with me, Becks smiled and held up his palms as if to say, “They love me. What’re you going to do?” before Crenshaw dragged him back to the group.
“It’s alright.” Leo patted my shoulder. “Becks would never go for them anyway.”
“Got that right,” Thad agreed. “He’s all yours, Sally.”