Adorkable(78)

“I know,” I spoke over her, “but the Tarheels are number one.”

“Is that why he chose them?”

“I don’t know, Mom. It’s also close to his family.”

“Close to you, too,” she pointed out. “Duke’s, what? Ten miles away from UNC?”

I shot her a don’t-go-there look. “I’m sure that didn’t even enter his mind.”

Mom wouldn’t back down. “And I’m sure it did.”

How could it have? I thought. Becks didn’t even know I’d been accepted. He’d been avoiding me ever since that embarrassing scene at the library—which was fine because I was avoiding him, too. Reaching out, I stopped on a station with lots of guitar and plenty of bass.

Becks had actually made the announcement yesterday, and like everyone else, I’d tuned in to see it. He hadn’t called afterward. Though I’d picked up my phone a dozen times, I hadn’t either. It was like we were strangers. We’d barely spoken, and whenever we did, it was always about nothing important. I missed him more than ever. We didn’t have a lot of time before graduation, and if I hadn’t said anything, if I’d never come up with that dumb fake boyfriend idea in the first place, we’d be spending every waking minute together.

Or at least I imagined we would have. Things were so screwed up. I could hardly remember the good old days when me and Becks were just me and Becks. Now with the whole love thing hanging over our heads, he’d gone mute, and I was just trying to hold it together. Sure, the schools were close, but what did it matter if we weren’t even speaking?

As expected, when Mom and I arrived, we had to park about a mile away. There were no available parking spaces in the lot, so we’d had to park beside the curb a few streets down. They took our tickets as I tried to catch my breath. Man, that was a long walk.

“You made it,” Hooker said as I joined her and Cicero at our seats.

“Barely,” I said, looking around for Mom.

Her high-pitched whistle drew my attention, and I finally saw who she’d stopped to talk to. The Kents, everyone besides Becks and Clayton, of course, all looked back at me, waving with enthusiasm. I waved back, swallowing down my bitterness. Becks hadn’t looked that happy to see me in days.

“Can you believe it?” Hooker said when I turned back to her.

“Believe what?” I asked.

I must’ve zoned or something while she was talking because she looked slightly annoyed.

“Becks,” she stated like that said it all.

“What about him?”

Hooker stared at me like I’d sprouted an eyeball in the middle of my forehead. “Spitz, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Didn’t you watch the news the other night? Or this morning?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Well, why aren’t you more excited?” She titled her head. “You and Becks’ll be minutes away from each other. I mean sure, your schools are total rivals, but with all the worrying you’ve been doing, I thought you’d be over the moon.”

“Yeah,” I said sadly. “Me, too.”

“Oh, come on,” she huffed. “It’s so obvious he’s doing this for you. How can you not see that?”

I placed a hand over her lips. “Let’s not talk about it, okay?”

Hooker scowled. “You’re being a real dork. You know that, right?”

I shrugged. So long as we didn’t discuss it, I wouldn’t be reminded that Becks hadn’t told me the news himself. I could forget that we weren’t talking, pretend we could go on as we always had.

The players filtered out onto the field, and my eyes instantly went to Becks. His green and white jersey shined beneath the stadium lights, his face determined, jaw heavily dusted with five o’clock shadow, high-stepping to warm up his legs along with the other players.

He looked fantastic. Gone was the drooping, miserable shade of a person he’d been little less than a week ago. This was Becks in his element, shouting commands at his team, firing up the crowd. Chariot was here, and they were here to win. Becks’s voice rang out again, strong and powerful.

I tried hard not to think about the fact that, up until recently, I hadn’t gone a day without hearing that voice. Not since we’d met.

The first forty-five minutes were excruciating. Chariot ended one point up, but the lead was hard-won. Becks and Ash weren’t playing any worse than they had at any other time during the tournament, but the Broughton team wasn’t letting up. Every time we made a great play, they’d answer with one of their own. We had them on offense, but their defense was killing us. Running the ball up field, goal to goal, was nearly impossible. Their guys were everywhere. Whichever team won, by the end, they would’ve earned it no question.