Adorkable

by Cookie O'Gorman

  Becks shook his head. “Alright Sal, what’s up?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, trying to play it cool.

  “Exactly what I said.” He crossed his arms. “What’s with you? And don’t try to say it’s nothing. Since yesterday, you look like you’re about to have a heart attack every time I lay a hand on you.”

  “I do not.”

  “Yes, Sal. You do.”

  My heart, so alive before, seemed to freeze in my chest.

  “Sal, I’m not…” He flushed. Becks, unflappable, always self-assured Becks, actually flushed, while I stared in awe. “I wouldn’t ever try anything on you. You know that, right?”

  That’s too bad, I thought, and even my mental voice sounded disappointed. “That’s not it.”

  “Then, what is it?”

  I stayed silent. If this conversation was going where I thought it was going, I was in big trouble.

  “I know something’s up,” he said, locking eyes with me, “and I think I know what that something is.”

  I gulped. “You do?”

  He couldn’t know—could he?

  “Yeah,” he said, “But I really just wish you’d tell me. I won’t be mad, you know.”

  I was glad to hear it, but Becks being mad at me for loving him wasn’t necessarily my biggest fear. I was more afraid he’d laugh or hate me for ruining our friendship. I wasn’t sure I could survive losing Becks as a friend. In fact, I was pretty sure I couldn’t.

  “We’ll still be friends and everything.” It was like he’d read my mind. Oh God, he didn’t really know, did he? “Come on, Sal. Just tell me the truth about this whole fake boyfriend thing.”

  “The truth,” I choked.

  His next words confirmed, unquestionably, that we were not talking about the same thing.

  “Just tell me who he is,” Becks insisted.

  “Who who is?” I asked, perplexed.

  Becks was starting to look annoyed. “The guy.”

  “What guy?”

  “Jeez, Sal.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “The guy who you’re crushing on so bad you had to hire a fake boyfriend to make him jealous.”

  I was shocked to say the least. Here I was thinking Becks had finally figured it out, figured me out, when he was really just as clueless as he’d ever been. That was a close one. After all that worry, my secret, my heart, was safe for now. Thank heaven for small favors.

  Playing along, I said, “Well, why do you want to know?”

  “I knew it,” he exclaimed, pointing a finger at me. “I knew it. This was never just about the Lillian’s setups. You’re doing this for some guy you’ve got the hots for.”

  “You got me.” I shrugged. Having him believe this lie was far better than telling him the life-altering, possibly friendship-wrecking truth. “How’d you figure it out?”

  “Netflix,” Becks replied. “So who is he?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  The look he gave me was half-scathing, half-impressed. “I think I deserve to know, seeing as how you’re using me. Is that all I am to you, Sal, arm candy?”

  “Oh no.” I was the one to cross my arms this time. I knew him too well to believe he was actually offended. “Don’t pretend, Becks. Don’t act like you’re not totally loving this.”

  A slow grin started to form. “Well, I’m definitely not hating it.”

  I shook my head. “That is so wrong.”

  Becks rolled his eyes. “So, who is this guy anyway?” He took a seat in his desk chair and gestured for me to do the same. “He must be something for you to go to all this trouble.”

  Setting my hat and cloak on the floor, lowering myself slowly to the bed, straight-backed on the very edge, I forced myself not to look away. “He is,” I said.

  Becks made a weird noise in the back of his throat. “You could at least tell me the jerk’s name.”

  “No.”

  “Aw, come on.”

  “No, Becks.”

  “Why not?”

  Because you are that jerk, I thought, but just shook my head.

  Becks furrowed his brow, deep in thought. Finally, he said, “Then can you just tell me about him? Is he athletic?”

  Without meaning to, I took a glance at all the soccer trophies lining Becks’s shelves. “Yes,” I replied. “Very.”

  Becks nodded. “So, a jock, then. Must be pretty stupid, huh?”

  Thinking of all the times he’d made honor roll, I shook my head. “He’s actually really smart. Sounds like a great package, doesn’t it?”

  He made that noise again then said, “He’s hideous, isn’t he? Has a face only a mother could love, a mug that makes little kids cry on sight. Wonky ears, jacked-up teeth, a unibrow.”

  Picturing Becks with a unibrow, I laughed out loud, relaxed for the first time since I’d entered his room. “No way, he’s totally beautiful.”

  “Beautiful?” Becks repeated dubiously. “Wait, is this guy one of those metro-sexuals or something? It’s not that Beau LaFontaine from Physics is it? Ah, Sal, I thought you had better taste than that.”

  Still smiling, I let myself recline back a little on the bed. This was sort of fun. “No, that’s not really my type. Besides, I don’t think Beau’s all that into sports.”

  Becks seemed to sag in relief.

  “Why so interested?”

  He suddenly righted himself, grinning, back to the confident Becks I’d always known. “No reason,” he said. “Just wanted to know what we’re dealing with. So, you ready to start lesson one?”

  “Lesson?”

  “Yeah, Sal.” The twinkle in his eyes made me feel nervous and excited, scared and hopeful all at once. “Like I said before, if we’re going to make this believable, you’re going to have to get used to us having more physical contact.”

  Physical contact? That sounded ominous.

  He laughed. “Wouldn’t want any future girlfriends getting the wrong impression, right? Your skittish reactions might put a damper on my rep. We need to practice here before we take it public”

  “Go on,” I said slowly.

  Standing, he walked over and took a seat next to me on the bed. Angling his body toward mine, he said, “I thought we’d start easy, just a little touch exercise, since you seem so edgy.”

  Ignoring my thumping heart, I said, “I’m not edgy.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Are to.”

  “No, I—”

  Becks sighed¸ his hand suddenly on my thigh. The move jolted me so much I nearly fell off the bed.

  “See?” he said, and I could tell he was trying not to smile.

  He failed.

  Throwing his hand away, all indignation, I jumped to my feet. “That wasn’t fair! I wasn’t ready.”

  Becks tugged me back down, looked me straight in the eye. “That’s the point,” he said. “Whenever we’re walking down the hall, in class, wherever, you won’t always know when I’m going to touch you, hug you, kiss you.” At the thought of kissing Becks, my heart danced a jig in my chest, but Becks wasn’t done. “You’ve got to be prepared, Sal. If you want to make this guy jealous, he has to believe we’re a couple. He won’t if you keep reacting that way. Hooker won’t either.”

  He had a point.

  Wearing my most serious face, I turned to him. “Alright, Mr. Miyagi, I’m ready to learn. Teach me all your skills.”

  Becks laughed. “Okay, Sally-san,” he winked, “but we’ll just stick to touch today. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you too fast.”

  I blushed, realizing how that must’ve sounded. But I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that wanted him to overwhelm me, as fast as he pleased.

  Thankfully, Becks let it go.

  Scooting closer, he lifted a hand. “I’m going to touch you now, okay?” he asked as if knowing it beforehand would make me less tense.

  I jerked a nod. The knowing didn’t help, kind of made it worse actually. Now
that I knew what was coming—Becks, my Becks, touching his skin to my skin—my nerve endings were on full alert.

  Gently, Becks placed his hand on top of mine.

  I didn’t jump this time, but my body was like a live wire, lit up from the inside.

  “Jeez,” Becks said quietly, running the tips of his fingers up and down my arm. “You’re shaking, Sal.”

  Mortified, I looked down to see that he was right. Every time his fingers passed a certain place on my skin, gooseflesh appeared first followed by a tiny quiver.

  “Sorry,” I said, completely at a loss.

  As much as I tried, I couldn’t command myself to not react. Why was my body betraying me like this? Didn’t it realize that if Becks saw how much I loved his touch, how much it moved me, he would know?

  Just as I feared it might already be too late, he said, “This isn’t working.” Removing his hand, he sat back, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I freak you out so much, but we need to try something different.”

  I was a lot of things, but “freaked out” was definitely not one of them.

  “Here,” he said, moving a bit closer. “You do me.”

  “What?”

  “Well, if I can’t touch you, you’ve got to touch me. Go ahead, Sal.” He rolled his neck around, loosening up like he did sometimes before a game. “I promise I won’t move a muscle.”

  I grimaced. As if I needed yet another reminder of how undesirable Becks found me. Here I was shaking like a leaf because of him, and there he was cool as a cucumber. Of course, he wouldn’t move. Becks wasn’t the one suffering from a severe case of Un-Requited Love Syndrome. Much as I wished he was, the only love-struck idiot here was me.

  Determined to make him feel something, I leaned in. “Close your eyes,” I said.

  He did.

  I took a second to study him, opening himself up to me, so vulnerable, and then started off the same way he had.

  Resting my hand atop his, I looked for a reaction, any reaction, but he remained still, just as he’d promised. I glided my hand up the contours of his arm, feeling the dips and curves of every muscle, along the back of his forearm.

  He laughed silently. “That tickles, Sal.”

  “Shhh,” I said, “no talking.”

  Becks nodded then went back to motionless.

  I hesitated only a moment before placing both hands on his shoulders. Moving my fingers to the back of his neck, I felt the muscles there tense. I used my thumbs to ease the tension, and then moved even closer. By this point, I was practically in his lap, but I’d wanted to do this for so long. Now that I’d finally gotten the chance, I wouldn’t screw it up.

  Bringing my right hand back around, I ghosted my fingertips along his jaw and up to his cheek, feeling the stubble rasp against my fingertips. “Oh,” I breathed, “it’s not so bad.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I thought it’d feel odd,” I answered truthfully. “You know, I prefer you without facial hair.”

  Becks’s voice was low, lower than it’d been a moment ago. His breathing had picked up too, I noticed. “Ah, you know you love it. Everyone does, Sal.”

  Feeling bold, I spoke softly right into his ear. “Not me.”

  His arms were around my waist in a blink, but I didn’t move.

  “I’ve always hated it.”

  “But why?” he asked, eyes still closed. “It’s the reason I win so much.”

  I shook my head. “No, Becks.” The frown on his face looked so adorable. I had the incredible urge to touch it, so I did. His eyes flipped open at the contact. “You’re the reason you win so much.”

  Out of the blue, the door opened, and I heard Mrs. Kent’s voice say, “Hey, honey, is Sally here? I thought I saw her car out front.”

  Without a thought, I reached up and plucked out one—or four—of Becks’s eyelashes, causing him to curse.

  I got to my feet smiling. “Eyelash,” I said, holding it up for Mrs. Kent’s inspection, praying she wouldn’t see through the impromptu ruse. She was like a second mother, but if she knew I was up here working on “touch exercises” with her youngest, I didn’t think she’d take it too well.

  “It’s so good to see you, Sally,” she said, pulling me into a hug. There was nothing accusatory in her tone. Naturally, she didn’t suspect a thing. Becks and I were just friends after all, always had been, always would be. “What’re you two doing up here?”

  Clayton popped his head in then. “Yes, Sally. What are you and Becks doing up here, all alone, completely unsupervised?”

  “Calculus,” Becks said, producing his book before I could say a word. “Sal was just helping me with some of the harder questions, isn’t that right?” He looked to me.

  I nodded a bit too vigorously. “Yep.”

  “Well, don’t work too hard,” Mrs. Kent said, shoving a grinning Clayton out the door. “And you,” she said to him, “stop trying to cause trouble. They’re just friends; you know that.”

  The door shut on that note, and Becks and I were left alone once again.

  “So,” he said, smiling, “I think lesson one was successful. What do you say we do some Calc homework?”

  I smiled back, acting as if nothing had happened. It seemed so easy for Becks; why couldn’t I do it, too? “I didn’t bring my book.”

  “Oh, you can use mine,” he said with a grin. “I won’t be needing it.”

  As he handed me the thick text, I remembered the two demands he’d made when he’d agreed to be my F.B.F: Goobers and a month of Calc. “You were serious?”

  “You know it.”

  The hour it took me to complete our homework was one of the longest of my life. Having Becks there, watching over my shoulder, pointing out mistakes every now and then, wasn’t all that fun. Still, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

  At the door Becks stopped me and said, “So, what’s the plan for Monday?”

  “I guess we just act like boyfriend and girlfriend,” I shrugged. “After today, it shouldn’t be that hard, right?”

  He nodded. “Okay, Sal, that might work for your guy and all. But you know Hooker’s not going to be impressed by a little handholding. Just be prepared.”

  I agreed like it was a given. Hooker was a tough cookie, but lesson one had filled me with such a heady confidence; I was able to convince myself it’d be easy. I’d finally worked up the nerve to run my hand along Becks’s lucky scruff, to whisper in his ear. Convince Hooker? Piece of cake compared to that. I’d never thought I would have the guts. Today, I was Superwoman, invincible. No one, not even Hooker, could touch me.

  Even so, if I’d known what she was planning, I probably would’ve stayed home Monday.

  CHAPTER 7

  I managed to avoid Hooker over the weekend, but the true test didn’t start for another seven minutes. The second-hand was like a countdown to detonation. I was watching it with such intense focus that I didn’t even see Pisszilla approach.

  Out of nowhere, fake French tips snapped an inch from my nose.

  “And what do you call this?” she said, thrusting a copy of the week’s newsletter at me.

  I glanced at it before turning back to the clock. “The sports beat.”

  Pisszilla was in fine form this Monday morning. She slapped the paper down on the desk and growled, “Twelve typos, Spitz. Twelve. It’s only five-hundred words. What’d you do, type it blind?”

  “No,” I mumbled. My thoughts were simply pre-occupied. As I’d been writing, every time I ran across Becks’s name in my notes, I had a flashback to our time spent in his room and got distracted. It wasn’t my fault, though. Thoughts of Becks were already distracting. Add lesson one to the mix, and it was darn near impossible to concentrate on anything else. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

  “Not that bad?” she snapped. “You realize you referred to Southside’s Coach Moorehouse in the masculine, eight times throughout the entire thing?”

  I was confused. Did I add an extra “o” or something? “Isn
’t that his name?”

  “Her name, Spitz. Coach Moorehouse is a woman.”

  “Huh,” I said, “I had no idea.” With that buzz cut, the deep voice, and those shoulders, who’d have thought?

  Pisszilla wasn’t done. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “You should’ve checked. Spitz, if you think shoddy work like this is going to get you into Duke, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  Direct hit, I thought, recoiling as if I’d been slapped. Duke was the ultimate, the unattainable. It was my dream. Judging by the satisfied smile on Pisszilla’s face, I got the feeling she knew it.

  “What’s the big deal? Man or woman, nobody from Southside’s going to read that article anyway. I didn’t even know Coach Moorehouse had lady parts.”

  I shot Ash a thankful look while Pisszilla swung her gaze to him.

  “Your stupidity isn’t the issue here, Ash.” She pointed one of her talons at me. “Spitz is the one who made us all look like idiots. It was her responsibility to check.”

  Ash rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like you’ve never made a mistake.”

  Her nostrils flared. “I’ve never given someone a sex change in one of my articles if that’s what you’re saying.”

  I’d had about enough. “Alright, alright, Piss—umm, Priscilla, calm down.” She glared, but I didn’t let it stop me. “I’ll try harder next time. Okay?”

  She huffed out a few more insults but then left me in peace.

  Unfortunately, the bell rang right on schedule. I knew Hooker would be waiting for me, on the lookout after the big brush-off this weekend, so I lagged behind. I’d felt prepared a few days ago, but now? Now, I realized there was no real way to prepare for Hooker. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. Of that, I was certain.

  “Priscilla seemed pretty pissed,” Ash said.

  Surprised, I looked up. “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “Don’t worry about it. She’s not as scary as she thinks.”

  I walked with him to the door. “She’s not?” I asked. “Those nails looked pretty sharp to me.”

  He laughed. “You’re right, she’s terrifying.”

  I nodded. “Especially the claws.”

  Ash smiled then looked over my head. “Uh oh, looks like someone’s jealous.”