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Beckett’s warm voice in my ear sent a shiver of relief through me. I was against his chest, safe and sound. A sudden thought struck me.
“Were you following me?” I took a step back and put some space between us so I could think.
He shook his head and twisted to stare at the path behind us. “No, why would you think that?”
“Seriously, were you trying to scare me? Tell me,” I demanded shakily. “Was it because of the Ice Girls thing?”
Beckett scoffed. “You think I’d follow you home to scare you for joining the Ice Girls behind my back and wearing Marcus’ number? I have a far better imagination than that.”
I flushed, momentarily distracted from my fear by the reminder of Beckett’s furious expression when he’d watched me dance. Now, that had been satisfying.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Someone dropped out of the team, and I got her uniform and player…so what?”
Beckett laughed shortly and then stepped closer to me, sending me off the path and into the dark trees that lined the walkway. His hands stayed on my hips, guiding me back until a tree pressed against me, stopping all movement.
“I told you last night…you don’t wear anyone’s number but mine.”
“Like I want to wear your number when you got me kicked off the cheerleading squad before I even got on it.”
“I was doing you a favor. You should be thanking me.”
I scoffed. “It’ll be a cold day in Hell when I thank you for anything.”
“Why do you want to be a cheerleader, anyway? I don’t get it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s beneath you.”
His answer surprised me.
“Being a cheerleader means…belonging. I’ve always wanted that. You wouldn’t understand because you’ve never been the outsider. Being a cheerleader to me means finally fitting in. Being accepted.”
I didn’t plan to say something quite so honest, but that was just the way it was between me and Beckett now. We showed each other brutally ugly, honest parts of ourselves, and didn’t try to dress them up.
He was quiet for a long moment, and I started to feel self-conscious. Was I alone in feeling like I could tell him anything, no matter how embarrassing or lame?
“I take back my answer. Because the outfits are hot and I want to bang football players,” I quipped lamely when he remained quiet.
“I liked your first one better. You do belong, Eve.” He let out a long rumbling sigh, like he’d been tense, and now, at my confession, he’d relaxed. He tucked a hanging lock of hair behind my ear. Last night, and the startling intimacy between us, sprang into my mind.
Beckett was looking at me just like he had then. Like there was nowhere he’d rather be in the world, than right there with me.
“I do?” My voice was just a murmur.
He nodded. “You belong to me, and you always have. Even from the start. From the moment we met, clutching your manga in the hall, stepping up to me, already fearless. In that moment, and every moment since then… you’ve belonged to me, Eve Martino.”
I relaxed back against the rough bark behind me, warmth flooding me that wasn’t embarrassment at all. What did he mean? There was a possessiveness to his tone that thrilled me. I had no idea what was happening between me and Beckett, but it was definitelysomething.
“Are you okay? Did you bump your head too hard in the game?” I rebuked him, grappling for the safer ground of our usual dynamic.
He ignored my question. “Switch with someone to get my number. I’m the player you look after, and only me.”
“I can’t do that!”
“Then I will.”
I shook my head at him. “And Beckett Anderson always gets what he wants, right?”
