Beck’s green eyes glinted. “Maybe.” And then he smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Not sure when I’ll see you next. You’re kind of right, you know. It’s not that fun being where you’re not wanted.”
The words hurt, probably just as much as he’d hoped they would.You should’ve stayed with whatever parent you were with, because no one wants you here. The words I’d thrown at him like knives seemed so much more cutting now that my anger had evaporated. I couldn’t believe I’d uttered them in the first place.
But I couldn’t take them back. I just kept my mouth shut, clenching my teeth so tightly that my jaw ached.I-N-E-V-I-T-A-B-L-E.
Beck reached toward me and gently smoothed the palm of his hand over my hair. His fingertips feathered through the strands ever so slightly as his eyes traced his movement, and I froze. I didn’t know why I didn’t try to bat his hand away. I didn’t know why I held still for him, but I did.
No, I knew why. My fluttering lashes and heart knew why. And I hated it.
I-N-E-V-I-T-A-B-L-E.
“Your hair is a mess,” Beck murmured, and that was when I realized he was taming the tangles from the drive in his car. His expression was remote and unreadable. “If you want to look pretty for Carter, you should at least run your fingers through it before you go back inside.”
And then, without another word, Beck dropped hishand and turned around, heading down the sidewalk to his car. It was a miracle someone hadn’t come yet to complain about the blocked roadway. He took his time slipping into the convertible, as if life followed the pace he set.
Beck didn’t look at me again before pulling away from the curb.
Now I was the one reaching over and gripping the porch railing, drawing in a steadying breath. I felt trapped and free-falling all at once. Four years ago, reading Beck had been easy—almost as easy as reading Jamie. But the calm bravado he’d donned inside was nothing but an act, revealing that he was just as unsettled by the game he was playing as I was.
And there was nothing I could do but sit back and hope that he grew bored with the game. And pretend that I wasn’t secretly hoping he wouldn’t.
Nothing good would come from engaging with Beckham Jennings, but I was a magnet drawn to him anyway. That was the thing with crushes, and crushes on boys like Beckham Jennings.
They were dangerous.
Especially when they had aces up their sleeves that would ruin girls like me.
Swallowing hard, I let myself back into the house, and Dad’s voice floated down the hallway.It’s impolite to eavesdrop, Beck had said, but I found myself doing it for the second time.
“What do you like about my daughter, Carter?” Dad’s voice was flat. “It seems you’re very interested in beingher friend.”
“I’m still getting to know her, and what I do know is great. I do want to be honest, though, Mr. Brighton. I—I am interested in your daughter romantically.”
I cringed a little at the awkward declaration, also because it dashed some of the hope that we could just stay friends. This was a good thing, though, that Carter was making such a statement to Dad. Dad would be happy that the son of his college best friend liked me. Impressed. It was exactly what I’d been wanting, and yet my chest rose and fell fast, just as Beck’s had on the porch.
“She’s very determined,” Carter went on. “We’ve talked a bit about her college plans, and her ambition?—”
“Is silly.” Dad’s voice was hard.
And all at once, my chest froze.
There was a seven-year age gap between Destelle and me, and I could distinctly remember what it’d been like when she was my age now. I’d been ten, she’d been seventeen, and both of our parents had been almost obsessed with her future plans. Hounded her to fill out applications and apply to scholarships and walk down the path they’d wanted. They’d pressured her, pushed her, tried to mold her into someone Destelle truly had no interest in being.
Even now, years later, I could remember exactly what she’d said when she snapped.
One day, when I don’t come home for holidays and never call you on your birthday, think of this moment.
In the end, though, our parents had relinquished their grip on her. They’d let go of the dreams they’d had for her in order to keep her in their life. They’d let her choose her own path.
And even though they’d given her exactly what she’d wanted, she’d followed through on her threat anyway. She did not come home for holidays or remember to call on birthdays. With the freedom she’d been given, she’d walked away from us.
“It’s misguided,” Dad amended, his voice tired. Like he didn’t want to talk about me anymore. “To think you have your entire future mapped out at seventeen is almost irresponsible. A form of brainwashing society has normalized.”
The support he’d given Destelle so easily, so willingly, was something I couldn’t even win over. Even when my dreams aligned with the ones he’d so badly wanted for her, they were meaningless in his eyes when it came to me. Ever since March, ever since his bad case, he’d decided I wasn’t good enough. Misguided. Silly.
“Oh. Um.” Carter fumbled with Dad’s intensity. “I—I agree with you a bit there, I suppose. The—the part about the future mapped. I guess. But it is nice when someone is passionate about something.”
I thought of his Mr. ASMR channel. I thought of myself, hands empty of something that I felt passionate about. Except for impressing my father.
