I set down the bag of crackers, no longer hungry anymore.
“Oh, you think I’m bad, huh?” Beckett teases as he jumps to his feet. “I’ll show you how bad I can be.”
Willow’s eyes pop open, and she scrambles to get up, but Beck snags her by the back of her shirt, yanks her back against him, and tickles the crap out of her.
“Beck, stop!” Willow begs as she tries to squirm out of his hold. “I take it back, okay? You’re good!”
“Say I’m a good boy,” Beck says as he tickles her sides. “And that you love me.”
“Fine! You’re a good boy and I love you!” she manages to get out through her laughter.
Instead of letting her go, he lies on the ground and brings her down with him. Then he rolls on his side and tucks his arm underneath her head. With how close they act, I sometimes wonder if there’s something going on between the two of them. If there is, though, no one seems to know about it.
“My arm’s a better pillow for napping,” Beck insists as he presses his chest against Willow’s back.
“No way. You just think that because you’re cocky,” Willow says, but she rests her head on his arm, and seconds later, her eyelids lower.
Beck looks proud of himself for getting her to relax. It’s a hard thing to do with Willow since she’s usually stressed out about something, has been since the day we became friends back in third grade. She was the quiet, shy girl who wore old clothes that were a little too big for her. She always spent recess on the swings by herself until one day Wynter announced, “She seems sad. We should make her come play hopscotch.” So we marched over there and made her play with us. She didn’t seem too reluctant, though. In fact, she seemed grateful that someone made the effort to get to know her.
But Willow has every reason to be stressed, since she has so much on her plate. On top of helping her parents out financially by working almost every weekend, she’s also trying to get an academic scholarship and spends crazy amounts of hours doing schoolwork.
Beck reaches over with his free hand and steals a handful of crackers from the bag on my lap. “Eat before you sleep,” he says to Willow, offering her the crackers. “You’re too skinny.”
Willow opens her eyes and takes the crackers from Beckett. “Thanks, Beck. I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”
“Probably laugh less.” He gently pinches her in the side before nuzzling against her.
“That’s not fair,” Wynter says to Beck with her lip jutted out. “You’re always nice to Willow and Luna, but all I get from you is being called a spoiled brat.”
“That’s because Will and Lu don’t call me a rich douche all the time,” Beckett mutters. “Nice people get treated nicely.”
I internally grimace. What is with all the nice comments getting thrown in my direction today? My guilt is starting to give me a stomachache.
“I guess I kind of see your point,” Wynter muses thoughtfully, but then her mood fizzles as her gaze darts toward the school. “Oh, boy. Here comes drama.”
I track her gaze to Grey heading in our direction. That lazy smile spreads across his face when he notices me looking at him, and my heart betrays me by fluttering in my chest like a lunatic.
“What a cocky asshole, just like every other damn jock in this school,” Wynter mutters, glaring at him. “He just sees some girls looking in his direction and automatically thinks we’re checking him out.”
She might be wrong, considering I was just kinda, sorta ogling him. Call it a bad habit since tenth grade that I haven’t been able to break.
“Hey, I’m a jock,” Beck says. “And I don’t think like that.”
“You’re not a jock,” Wynter insists. “You just play sports.”
Beck tips his head, slides his sunglasses down, and looks at Wynter. “What’s the difference?”
“Jocks are sports guys who hang out with other sports guys and obsess about sports and think they’re so awesome because they can throw and kick a ball,” Wynter explains. “You, my friend, hang out with a bunch of weirdoes who don’t ever want to hear about any of the sports you play. See? That’s how much we love you. Enough that we haven’t let you fall into the jock mold.”
“Gee, thanks.” Beck shakes his head in disbelief.
“You’re welcome,” Wynter replies, beaming. “And you say I never compliment you.”
“Hey,” Grey says to me, interrupting the conversation.
Ari, Wynter, Beck, and I all look up at him, while Willow remains asleep on Beck’s arm. Some of Grey’s confidence diminishes from our scrutinizing gazes.
“Are you lost or something?” Wynter points at the school. “The gym’s that way.”
“I know where the gym is.” Grey shoots me a quizzical glance and I shrug.
Wynter crisscrosses her legs then rests back on her hands. “So why aren’t you there? That is where all you jockheads hang out all the time, right?”
“Be nice,” I beg Wynter. “Please.”
“Why? He and his steroid friends aren’t nice to anyone other than Dixie, Mixie, and the ditz squad.” Wynter looks at Grey with her brows raised, challenging him to argue with her.
Grey seems the slightest bit amused, the corners of his lips twitching. “If you’re talking about the girls on the cheerleading squad, then I think their names are Dixie and Pixie, not Dixie and Mixie.”
“You’d know better than I would”—Wynter folds her arms across her chest and pins him with her best sassy smirk—“since you’ve probably screwed every single one of them.”
Ari chokes on a mouthful of food while Beck grumbles, and Willow bites down on her bottom lip to restrain a smile while keeping her eyes closed.
Grey lifts a shoulder. “I guess you’d know better than I do since you seem to know everything about me.”
“You said you needed to talk to me?” I say to Grey as I leap to my feet.
His gaze sweeps across my friends before landing back on me. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”
Wynter mouths, “Privately? No way.”
I turn my back on Wynter and gesture at Grey. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way.”
“Be careful, Lu. Don’t let him try to charm you with his jock good looks,” Wynter hollers as Grey and I start across the grass toward the center of the quad. “Remember tenth grade.”
My cheeks heat. I love Wynter to death, but she really needs to stop saying every single thing that pops into her head.
Grey remains silent as we make our way around the people eating lunch on the grass. I catch people gawking at us and cringe when we pass by Piper Talperson, Grey’s girlfriend for the last year.
Grey has stuck to his type over the years, and Piper fits it impeccably: a popular cheerleader with curves. Her hair and makeup are always flawlessly done, and she wears the latest fashions. Honestly, she reminds me a lot of Wynter; only, Wynter has more of an edge to her style and is a hell of a lot nicer.
Looking annoyed, Piper stands up from the bench she’s sitting on and pushes her way over to us. “Babe, where are you going?” she asks Grey, snagging the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.
Grey stops in his tracks, casting an uneasy glance at me as he faces her. “I just need to talk to Luna about something for class,” he explains to Piper.
“Oh, hey, is it Luna?” she says like she just noticed me standing there and has never met me before.
“Yeah.” I force a smile, even though I’m not a huge fan of Piper.
She’s not that nice of a person. I’ve seen her do a lot of cruel things, like openly mocking the other girls in our gym class, calling them fat and ugly and flat chested—yeah, the last one was directed toward me. She also loves to gossip, and I’ve seen her destroy many people’s reputations by outing their darkest secrets.
Her lip curls before she zeroes in on Grey again. “I thought we were going out to lunch together.” She tucks a strand of her long, brown hair behind her ear and flutters her eyelashes as she peers up at him.
“I told you I couldn’t today,” Grey says, sounding tired.
She juts out her bottom lip. “But you’ve been saying that every day since the beginning of the school year. I’m getting bored of staying at school for lunch.”