Adorkable

by Cookie O'Gorman

  Ash was smirking at me, and Becks didn’t seem too thrilled about it.

  Looking between us, one eyebrow cocked, Becks said, “You two are pretty close then, huh?”

  He’d addressed the question to me, so I answered, “Yeah, we’re getting there.”

  “Very close,” Ash agreed, coming up beside me, placing a hand on my back. He dropped a quick kiss to my hair, and Becks winced.

  “How’s that going?” was Becks’s next question.

  “Great.” I gulped. No need to tell him Ash was turning out to be more of a friend than a boyfriend. There was absolutely no need to tell Becks there was no spark. Not like I’d felt with him.

  “Great,” he repeated, staring me down. “It’s strange don’t you think? How quick you two came together.”

  “Sometimes you just know,” Ash said.

  Becks grunted.

  I was still having hallucinations from all the nakedness, so I was glad Ash was on top of things.

  “Spitz has everything I’m looking for,” Ash went on. “She’s way too smart for me, but I love her quirky sense of humor. It doesn’t hurt that she’s beautiful.”

  Stupidly, I felt flattered. Sure, it was a bunch of crap, but crap or not, Ash was good at flattery.

  “So I assume she’s shown you her CWC.”

  “Becks,” I hissed. Nothing could’ve snapped me to attention quicker.

  “Her what?” Becks grinned at Ash’s confused expression. “Spitz, what’s a CWC?”

  “Go ahead,” Becks prompted. “Show him, Sal.”

  Oh, he was so dead. I was fairly sure steam was coming out of my ears, and it had nothing to do with the midday heat.

  “What’s wrong, Sal? You said you two were close.” He shrugged, shooting me that same infuriating smile. “Just thought he’d like to see some of your hidden talents.”

  “Hidden talents?” Ash asked. “Is CWC slang for something—” He ran his fingers down my spine, and I jumped up in shock. “—‘cause if it is, I’d be happy to see whatever you’ve got to show me.”

  “You disgust me,” Becks spat.

  “And you bug the hell out of me,” Ash replied. “We’re even. By the way, that lucky beard is stupid.”

  “And so are you. I guess we’re even there, too.”

  “A real soccer player wouldn’t need to rely on tricks to win a game. Some of us get by on natural talent.”

  “Shut up, Stryker.” Becks’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “I know we don’t need some dumb fairytale to help us win State,” he said and before Becks could say anything else, “Spitz? You gonna show me or what?”

  They were both looking at me expectantly.

  “C’mon,” Becks said, his frown dissolving into a slow smile. “We worked on it for weeks in fifth grade, remember?”

  “What?” Ash said in shock. “Fifth grade? That’s pretty young isn’t it?”

  “Fine,” I sighed.

  It’d be better to just get it over with, and someone had to get Ash’s mind out of the gutter. Drawing in a deep breath, rolling my eyes at Becks’s grin, I titled my head up and released a sound somewhere between bird mating call and dying dog. It lasted all of ten seconds before I ran out of air.

  “Wow,” Becks said, sounding like he meant it. “That was great, Sal.”

  “I know, right?” I smiled. Instead of feeling the waves of embarrassment I expected, I was proud of myself. That was one of the best Wookiee calls I’d ever done.

  “What’d you think, Ash?” Seeing his perplexed expression, I said, “CWC stands for Chewbacca’s Wookiee Call. Becks and I learned how to do it off this online tutorial.” I smirked at Becks, “But he couldn’t even get the first note right.”

  “Hey,” Becks said indignant, “I could outdo your Vader any day.” And then he proceeded to demonstrate the fact, grinning afterward as I gave a silent round of applause. He was a good Darth—raspy voice, low and menacing—but he couldn’t do Chewie to save his life.

  “I thought it was ‘Luke, I am your father,’“ Ash said.

  “Amateur.” Becks switched his focus to Ash, a challenge in his eyes. “What can you do, Stryker?”

  If I didn’t like him more than anything, I’d have said Becks was being a real jerk to Ash. But The Whip refused to be intimidated. Ash pursed his lips, looking around a moment. Walking a few steps, he grabbed up a lacrosse stick and waited until he had our full attention.

  Lifting that stick high in the air, he scowled at nothing then gripped it between both hands and bellowed, “You shall not pass!” He drove the stick into the ground with all his might, arms quivering with the force of impact.

  After a moment, I said, “I didn’t know you do Gandalf. That’s one of my favorites.”

  Ash chucked the stick back to where it’d come from, sauntering over with a grin. “It’s nothing.”

  “No, that was awesome. Wasn’t it Becks?” I turned but Becks wasn’t there anymore. He’d rejoined the team on the field. The whistle blew and the coach called the stragglers back to practice.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ash said, but I did. I couldn’t help it.

  Mount Tabor went down fighting, but between Becks and Ash, there was no contest. I’d waited until after school to approach Becks and congratulate him. He’d been surrounded all day. It was Becks’s senior year, and he was in a good way to get State MVP and win yet another championship. Some athletes crumbled beneath the pressure but not my Becks. I was so proud of him; I could barely see straight.

  After Roxy finally left (she’d been talking his ear off, flashing him her cleavage for about fifteen minutes), I walked over to Becks, finding him in one of those rare moments that he was alone.

  He’d zipped his bag, and I’d opened my mouth, wearing a smile just for him, when he said, “If this is about Stryker, I don’t want to hear it.”

  I recoiled. “I just came over to say great job,” I said. “You did it, Becks. CHS has a chance at State, third year in a row.”

  “Thanks, I know,” he said. “Was there something else?”

  “No.” Again, I was taken aback. Who was this cold person, and what had they done with my Becks? “I’m…I’m proud of you. That’s all.”

  Becks looked at me for a long moment.

  “Ash said you guys are likely to win if you can—”

  “If you’re going to talk about Ash, don’t talk to me.”

  “Becks…”

  “See ya,” he said, turning away. No Sal, no grin, nothing.

  Ash came up behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, Spitz, want to go to a party tonight?”

  I was too numb to speak, so instead I listened to Ash as he invited me to another one of Mercedes’s parties. It was supposed to be bigger and better than any of the others so far, a real celebration since Chariot had made it to the final round. He said that everyone was going. I must’ve agreed, though I definitely didn’t remember doing so.

  Hooker had come to my house to fix my hair and make-up, and Ash drove us to Mercedes’s house. We got there late, the party already half-over when we arrived. That was mostly my doing. I’d taken a lot of time getting ready, so I wouldn’t have to stay long. Ash hadn’t minded. “Just an appearance,” he’d said. “We’ll just make an appearance then leave.” I was still wary. My last visit to Mercedes’s house had ended in heartbreak, tears, and a lot of German swearing. I was determined not to let that happen again.

  But the first thing I saw when I walked inside was Becks sitting slumped between two girls I’d never met before. They were both smiling, happy as all get out to be that close to the man that was going to lead Chariot to its next victory.

  The sight made my anger rise—not at them, but at myself.

  Becks looked horrible. His eyes were downcast, his beard looked a little rougher than usual, and his head drooped on his shoulders. Was this what having a boyfriend meant? Leaving all my other friends behind? I didn’t even know what was bot
hering him. Seeing him in that state made me hate myself a little.

  “I’m going to go get myself something to drink,” Ash said into my ear, “you want anything?”

  I shook my head.

  “Be right back.” He dashed off without another word.

  As if he’d been waiting for Ash to leave, Becks lifted his head, his eyes going straight to mine. What had put that sadness there? I wondered as he rose and walked up to me.

  “Sal,” he said, voice soft.

  “Becks.”

  “You want to dance?”

  “Sure,” I said, taking his hand. The contact still sent tingles running through me.

  We made our way to the center of the living room where other couples were already dancing. I hardly noticed. After Becks put his hands on my waist, my arms reaching up to twine around his neck, I was gone. It was just him and me. Nothing else mattered.

  “Sorry about earlier,” he said.

  “That’s okay.” I rested my cheek against his chest and felt the strong beat of his heart, steady, sure. “I’m sorry you’re so sad,” I said quietly.

  Becks sighed, pulling me closer. “I’m not sad, Sal.”

  “You’re not?”

  After a moment, Becks whispered, “I miss you.”

  I swallowed heavily as he rested his cheek against my hair. “Me, too.”

  We didn’t say anything else, didn’t have to. Mercedes must’ve had a party playlist or something because the song we were dancing to now was the same one that’d been playing when I’d given Becks his shave. The soundtrack to the first (and only) kiss he’d ever given me. I’d never forget that song.

  As the final notes died away, Becks and I separated.

  “Can I cut in?” Ash said.

  Becks looked at him, at me, then turned around and walked back to his seat.

  Another ballad started, and Ash and I assumed the position, his arms holding me closer than necessary. Leaning down, he spoke quietly so only I could hear, “What’s with him?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered as he melded our two bodies further. There was no space between Ash and me now, and those sad eyes, the ones I loved, were locked on us, looking tired.

  “Forget about it, Spitz,” Ash said, nuzzling my neck. “He’ll get over it.”

  No, I thought. He looks miserable. Becks looked completely, utterly miserable. He needed his best friend. He needed me. If having a boyfriend was taking up too much of my time, there was only one thing to do.

  CHAPTER 16

  “You want to break up?” Ash repeated.

  I nodded. “I think it’s for the best.”

  We were sitting outside, on one of the benches in front of the library. I’d forced him to meet me here extra early (6:30 a.m. on a Saturday) in retribution. Hey, if he could call a meeting at the crack of dawn so could I. Though, really I’d done it because I had to be here anyway for my kids. Reading Corner didn’t start for another hour or so, but I liked to be early whenever I could.

  My cape fluttered at my ankles. There was a nice breeze today.

  “You’re serious,” he said and then pointed at me. “And you’re gonna break up with me wearing that?”

  “You have something against wizard-wear?” I asked.

  Ash shook his head. “Spitz, this is so embarrassing. Couldn’t we go inside, where no one can see us? I can’t believe you’re out in public dressed like this.”

  “We can’t go inside. They’re not officially open yet.” I watched his face closely. “Does it really bother you?”

  “No,” he said. “What bothers me is the lightning bolt on your forehead. And what do you mean, you want to break up?”

  I sighed. I’d known this wouldn’t go well.

  “Ash, when we first started this thing, I honestly thought you’d get sick of me after one date.”

  Ash scoffed, throwing his arm over the back of the bench, making a “Go on” gesture with his other hand.

  “Then I thought, maybe you could help me get over Becks like you offered,” I continued. “I did end up liking you, just like you said. It’s been great hanging out with you this past week.”

  “So, what’s the problem?” He sat up. “You like hanging out with me. I like hanging out with you. Even if you were using me to make Becks jealous, I wouldn’t care. His face when we danced was like—”

  “That wasn’t jealousy,” I cut in. “It was misery.”

  Ash shrugged. “Same thing.”

  “No, it’s really not.” Reaching out, I laid my hand over the top of his. He’d treated me so well, and I really did like talking with him. If nothing else, I’d gained a friend. “I don’t want to make Becks unhappy. That was never what I wanted.”

  “Well…”

  “I know, I know, you don’t like Becks—” I shook my head, lifted my shoulders helplessly, “—but I do. Even if he doesn’t feel the same about me, I’m still his friend. I can’t stand to see him so sad.”

  “Spitz, the guy makes you sad whenever he’s around another girl. What’s he done to save your feelings?”

  I flushed. He had a point, but it didn’t change anything.

  “You’re incredible,” Ash said, looking at my expression. “Becks is blind for not seeing what’s in front of him, but you, Spitz. I’ve never met someone like you before.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means you’re a freak of nature.” I made to pull away, but Ash wasn’t having it. He captured my fingers, his other hand joining the first. “After all he’s put your through, most girls would want to tear Becks’s throat out, but not you.”

  I felt the need to set the record straight. “He didn’t mean to. Becks has no idea about my feelings, so it’s not really his fault.”

  Ash pointed at me. “That’s it. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “What?”

  “Did you hear yourself just then? You defended him. He’s the one who’s put your heart in a grinder, and here you are sticking up for him.” Ash’s eyebrows lowered; in a strange voice he said, “You really love the guy, don’t you?”

  “I do,” I said. Odd how easy it was to say that to Ash. I’d never thought I could admit that to anyone, let alone The Whip, but there it was.

  He looked away, released my hand slowly, passing his fingertips through his hair.

  “Guess I can’t compete with that,” he said under his breath.

  “Thanks for everything, Ash.” I smiled, meaning it. “Now that I know you—the real you—I can honestly say you’re one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”

  Ash laughed. “You’re just as bad as Becks, you know that?”

  I frowned. Where did that come from?

  “Spitz, I’m not a nice guy,” he said flatly. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

  “Huh?”

  He rolled his eyes as he stood. “You smart girls are always the last to figure these things out. Why would a guy like me ask you out if all I wanted was friendship? You may be cute, but you’re not too observant.”

  “Huh?” I said again. I understood the words coming out of his mouth, but the meaning behind them was a mystery. It was like he was intentionally trying to confuse me.

  Leaning down, trapping me between his arms, he placed a hand on the bench on either side my head.

  I gulped as he studied my face. His resulting smile was pure bad boy, no nice guy in there whatsoever.

  “I told you before, I like you, Spitz,” he said, and I drew in a breath. “I like you a lot.”

  While I sat there in shock, he smoothly closed the space between us, his lips moving over mine in a kiss like a match striking tinder. Heat shot up between the two of us. It burned for a few seconds and didn’t immediately cool as he leaned back.

  Hooker had been right. Ash was a great kisser. It was brash and unexpected, sort of like the man himself, but it went no deeper than that. As good as he was, as hot as the kiss had been—and it had been smokin’, believe me—I hadn’t felt anything lik
e I did with Becks. When Becks kissed me, it’d been right, so completely perfect that I knew instantly. That was where I belonged.

  “Ash, I like you, too, but…” I trailed off, not wanting to embarrass him. It wasn’t that I hadn’t liked kissing Ash. Any girl would’ve loved kissing him, but there was one problem: He wasn’t Becks. How was I supposed to let him down easily?

  The Whip shrugged as if he could read my mind. “Just wanted to let you know you have options. Maybe it’s for the best, since neither of us will be in Chariot next year.”

  “You won’t?” I asked, surprised. “Why?”

  “Dad’s got his eye on a Senate seat,” he said sarcastically. “So guess that means I’m off to private school for senior year. Fun, fun.”

  We both knew it wouldn’t be. For a senior with collegiate soccer aspirations, Chariot High was the place to be. It was a real shame his parents were taking him out before he could get scouted.

  “I’m so sorry, Ash.” Reaching out, I placed a hand on his arm in sympathy. “That sucks.”

  “It does.” He caught my hand, eyes playful, as he ran his thumb along the back of my knuckles. “I’ll miss you, Sally Spitz.”

  I laughed. “Miss you, too, Stryker.”

  “If things don’t work out with Becks, let me know.”

  With one last grin and a gentle kiss to my temple, he walked off.

  I stared after him for longer than I should have. Ash might as well have told me he was an alien from the planet Vulcan. It would’ve stunned me less if he had. A boy, not just any boy but Ash “The Whip” Styker, liked me, Sally Spitz, a first-class dork with a degree in geek. Not just liked, but liked. The news was about as believable as science fiction, but he’d been serious. And that kiss had definitely been real. My lips were still on fire.

  Shaking my head, I went inside. Besides tossing me into a confusion spiral, and let’s face it, upping my confidence as a woman, the talk with Ash made me realize one indisputable fact: Boys were strange.

  I got further confirmation of that a little later as I was in the middle of reading Harry Potter. Ten of the twelve kids registered had shown up today. We were at a really good part, the one where Hagrid finds Harry and the Dursleys holed up in a shack surrounded by the sea. The kids were loving it. I’d been doing all the voices, and not one of them could resist the pull of Jo Rowling’s writing.