He sat just as I finished my cone. I thought of licking my sticky fingers, but that was probably not the best idea at the moment.
“How did you guess that’s what I was thinking?” I wondered.
“Because I don’t play a pickup game without remembering it. Mason dared me.”
“I remember.”
“You and your friends were waiting for us to come out of the gym. It was the week of our eighth-grade dance,” he said.
“I pretended to be appalled, knowing everyone was watching.”
“Pretended?”
“Mmm hmm,” I murmured.
“You’re gonna have to explain that one.”
“Well.” I wasn’t sure how to phrase it. “Of course I wanted you to do it. Everyone, including me, knew you were the cutest guy in middle school.”
“Oh yeah?”
I rolled my eyes. He was just looking for compliments now. “But I’d also made a bit of a show of not wanting to be another one of your fan club members. So I convinced my friends, and myself I guess, it was appalling. The idea of me and you, anything more than friends.”
“I was a bit of a jerk,” he admitted.
“A Casanova in training.”
“Of sorts.”
“Why?”
It was a loaded question. And I could guess at the answer. But I wondered if Beck had given it any thought himself.
“Why?” His gaze dropped down to my lips. A fact that was difficult to ignore. “I could blame my parents, I guess. Even then they were disconnected… so different from me, and from your family. But…” He shrugged. “I’m sure there was more to it than that. I got a lot of attention, and liked it. Leaned into it just a little too much. Insecurity, maybe?”
He was more self-aware than I’d have expected.
“I like this Beck.”
“You would.”
“What does that mean?”
One second, we were sitting beside each other on the bench. The next, he reached out, grabbed my hand, and entwined his fingers through mine. It was so unexpected, I didn’t know what to say. Or do. Just that… it felt right.
“Do you remember when you asked me, when you first came home, why men suck?”
I thought back, and did remember it. I nodded.
His fingers tightened around mine. “I think I’m ready to give you an answer.”
My breath caught.
But before he could finish, Beck’s phone buzzed. He let go of my hand and pulled it out.
“Shit. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at the bar. We have plenty of coverage. Come whenever.”
“Beck? What is it?”
