CHAPTER 16 #4
I blinked my eyes open, and when our gazes locked once more, it felt like my heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Beck still hovered only a few inches above me, using his other arm to prop himself up so as not to crush me, making no move to stand up. “I’m not perfect?” I asked.
Beck just gazed down at me, lip pulling up, but not into a smirk. “No,” he said with a real, soft smile. “But that’s okay.”
And then, carefully pulling his hand out from underneath my head, he swiped at the amused tear that’d started rolling down my cheek with the side of his dirty finger.
I wanted to suck in a breath, but staring up into Beck’s eyes, I was frozen.
That’s okay. For that moment, years and years of striving for perfection all felt wiped away in an instant with just those two words. That’s okay.
T-H-A-T-S O-K-A-Y.
I didn’t realize until that moment that my crusty fingers still gripped the fabric of Beck’s shirt. He had me in the perfect position to tease me, to say whatever suggestive thing he’d had lined up next, but he didn’t.
Four years ago, he’d been the same one to save me then. Here, he’d said, handing me the lighter. Explode.
I-N-E-V-I-T-A-B-L-E.
If it were an emotion, it’d be stirring in me now. I’d be filled to the brim with it. The words tumbled out of me. “I’m sorry for not telling the adults I’d been the one to light the rosebush on fire.”
The apology was four years overdue and lackluster, but the second the words left my lips, something in me quieted. The guilt and shame that’d been weighing me down all these years didn’t disappear, but I finally, finally, did something about it.
Beck seemed taken aback by the apology, his chest rising and brushing mine. “I’m sorry for giving you the lighter to begin with.”
“I’m sorry I went out to the garden at all that night.”
He didn’t hesitate, and his voice was low as a confession itself. “I’m not.”
My skin hummed. I wondered if we were remembering the same thing—before the fire. When I’d put my hand in his and leaned forward. When we’d kissed for the first and only time. I’m not.
Without warning, Beck rolled off me with a little groan, slipping in the mud as he got his feet underneath him.
I lay still on the ground for a long moment, pulse racing, looking at the sky above his head.
The sun lowered and set far quicker than I’d guessed, revealing a smattering of small lights against the dark.
“Do you still know all the stars?” I asked him.
Beck tried to slop off some of the mud from his bare arm. “I never was that into them like that.”
“But you know some of them.” I pointed up at a cluster. “What’s that one?”
He craned his neck back to look. “Kelptipus.”
“And that one?”
“That would be… Kestrin Minor.”
I pointed again, and this time, I looked at Beck’s face. And I watched as Beck’s eyes darted around, trying to remember a name… or inventing one. “The, uh, Marrowstar Constellation.”
“Are you making them up?” I really should’ve stood from the mud—it was starting to make me shiver—but I didn’t. I did lift my head, though. “This whole time, you never knew any constellations?”
Beck just shrugged.
“Wow. My life’s a lie.” The declaration felt silly, and I found myself chuckling again. I dropped my head back to the ground, feeling it squish. “This night is filled with so many painful realizations, isn’t it?”
The mud splatted as Beck took the few steps back over to me, crouching down at my side. For a moment, he regarded me as if I were bleeding out on the ground and he was debating grabbing bandages. “I wanted to impress you,” he murmured. “When we were little. I wanted you to think I was smart.”
I actually snorted. “No, you didn’t. You were probably laughing at how gullible I was.”
“I didn’t want to tell you why I was really outside, counting the stars.”
“Why were you?”
Beck just shook his head. He stood up once more, looking down at himself with a dramatic sigh.
“Your parents are going to kill me.” After admitting defeat at trying to get himself clean, he offered a dirt-covered hand down to me.
“Maybe I’ll drop you off at your neighborhood gate and let you walk the rest of the way. ”
I’d been so afraid of their ashamed expressions before. Of their disappointment. Now, the fear of their reactions felt so far off, like it’d evaporated completely. Why? “My parents won’t kill you,” I put my hand into his. “Me? Probably.”
Beck gripped my hand tighter as our skin slipped together, like he’d rather fall back down to the ground with me than let go.
He hauled me to my feet, but didn’t immediately let go.
His voice lowered to a shivering hum. “Pebble Brain would never bring you home looking like this.” Beck’s eyes roamed my face, dropping to my lips. “I guess he is better than me.”
I hadn’t thought about Carter once. Beck’s lips were mud-covered from the number of times I’d pitched straight at his mouth, and that should’ve disgusted me, but I couldn’t stop looking at them.
Fuller top lip, thinner bottom. When I’d kissed him all those years ago, my heart had been beating too fast, and my head had been too light that I barely remembered it.
I could remember how I’d felt before, and I could remember how I’d felt after, but the kiss itself? No clue.
If I kissed Beckham Jennings now, I’d remember it.
If I kissed Beckham Jennings now, I’d never forget it.
And if I kissed Beckham Jennings now, there would be no going back from it.
“You’re nothing like Carter Pembleton,” I whispered to him, and just like it had all those years ago, my pulse picked up. I really, really like you, Beckham Jennings, I said back then, and thought now.
But Beck jerked back and let out a sharp breath before I could move, one that sounded half like a laugh. He pulled his hand from mine, then nudged up my chin. “Thank God for that.”
I blinked at his hard tone, and he took another step back from me. “You’re worried about my parents killing you,” I muttered, thankful for the dim light and mud to hide my burning cheeks. “But won’t Ms. Jennings be upset we’re getting into her car so dirty?”
Beck’s gaze fell to my clothes, and then he looked himself over, letting out a slow breath. He muttered a curse as he scrubbed a hand over his face—forgetting it was still dirty. He swore again.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him so stressed while being so totally filthy. “Oh, sure, laugh.” Beck shot me a glare. “I’m going to lose my convertible privileges all because I taught you a lesson, and you’re laughing.” He started sulking his way back to his car.
I limped after him, wincing at the pain shooting through my ankle. “I appreciate you taking one for the team.”
“I didn’t realize I was on your team,” he muttered, almost like he was speaking to himself.
I stared at his broad, mud-covered back, biting down on the corner of my lip. “Me either.”
But I’m glad you are.