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He steps up next to me. “Since when have you ever been nice?” he teases.
“Shut up.” I cross my arms.
“So…” he grins like an idiot, “you want to celebrate your birthday with Beckett, huh?”
“What? It’s not that crazy.”
“Oh sure, I’m sure 16-year-olds go to birthday sleepovers with 8-year-olds all the time.”
I purse my lips, trying to force away my embarrassment. It’s not like I don’t know how ridiculous my crush is. But it was worth a shot to ask.
James leans back against the car. “Actually, I think this is a great idea. I mean, just think,” he smacks Tony on the arm, “if my sister and your brother got married then we would be brothers.”
My eyes dart back and forth between James and Tony. I’m pretty sure he’s making fun of me, but they are best friends so maybe he really does like the idea.
Wait.
“Sixteen?” I ask, glancing back at the road, only to see Beckett driving away.
My arms uncross and I take a step forward. His birthday must be near mine if he’s sixteen now.
I let out a big breath. Beckett can drive now, which makes him a million times cooler. And it makes it that much more obvious that he’s out of my league.
A hand lands on top of my head.
“I can tell you’re in love, but you’re too young for a tattoo. So, if you want me to write his name across your forehead in Sharpie, all you have to do is ask.” James musses up my hair while Tony laughs.
I shove his arm away. “I’m not in love, dummy.” I recross my arms and start walking towards the house. “Mom wants you to bring that pop in.” I call over my shoulder, realizing I left the last one on the ground but not wanting to face James and Tony again. Not right now.
I knew my brother would give me crap if he found out about my feelings for Beckett. Which is why I’ve been careful to not even mention it around James. And I mean, Tony’s only ever been nice to me, but I don’t know if he’ll tell Beckett about this.
Please, pretty please, don’t let Tony tell Beckett that I love him.
