I shouldn’t be angry with him. He did nothing wrong, really. I’m just embarrassed. I got myself all excited that Lucky Ganetti actually liked me. It’s not Deena’s fault, either. Sure, she encouraged it, but it’s all on me for believing something so far-fetched. I scoff to myself. Because people like beautiful Lucky Ganetti don’t go for people like me, plain, boring Becklyn Morrissey. Instead, they go for the Tiffs of the world.
“Let’s get started,” the instructor shouts from the front. And for the first time in a week, I feel something other than sad. Because I’m about to kick the crap out of this bag. That thought alone makes me happy.
As soon as the hour-long class is over, I’m bent at the waist, panting. Sweat is dripping off me like I’m made of water. “Wow,” I say between gasps. “That was something.”
“Feel better?”
“I do.” No lie. I feel much better.
She reaches out to pat my shoulder but must think twice about touching my sweaty self, because she winces and pulls back. I get an encouraging smile instead. “You did great.”
“Thanks.”
As we head out of the room, I’m wiping off my face when a male voice says, “What’re you doing here, squirt?”
I’d recognize Joe’s voice anywhere, because the guy only has one volume. Loud.
“What’s it look like?” I sneer at him because I’m still mad. I know. I know. It’s not his fault, probably.
“It looks like you look like shit.” He snickers. “You’re sweating like a damn pig.” God. I want to punch his smug face. Thanks to my class, I know how to do it now too. Curling up my fist at my side, I’m tempted to do a jab-cross on his stupid butt when there’s another voice.
“Hey, Becklyn.”
Glancing to my left, my eyes meet Lucky’s. “Oh.” I smile at him but it’s a painfully forced one. “Hey.” My voice cracks on that simple little word. I need to do a better job hiding my stupid emotions.
“Well, boys,” Deena says, coming up behind me. She puts her arm over my shoulders. “Nice to see you both, but we’ve gotta go get ready.”
Ready?For what?
“Ready?” Lucky asks. “For what?”
Deena gives the guys her best smile. “Double date.” I turn my head slowly until we’re making eye contact. I want to stop her, but there’s no way.
“You.” Joe points at me. “Who’d go out withyou?” The jerk chuckles.
Deena makes a growly sound but only loud enough for me. “This girl,” she pulls me to her side, “has lots of offers.” She glares at my brother.
“No way.” Joe shakes his stupid head.
For a brief second, I want to agree with my brother, but it hits me. Joe doesn’t think I’m good enough to get asked out. And that belief hurts more than—than even last Friday night. The tears are sudden. Probably because my emotions are just right there on the surface. They’ve been hovering there for a week, and now they’re out for all to see, which makes me cry harder.
“Becklyn?” Lucky sounds concerned.
Yeah. Right.
I see him move closer in my peripheral vision. Holding my hand up to stop him, I shake my head, which seems to work. He stops.
Looking at my brother, I ask what I should have asked him a long time ago. “Y-you have never thought I was good enough for anybody. Have you?”
The smile on Joe’s face drops suddenly. “Becks…”
“You don’t think anyone would ever want m-me.”
“No.” He’s shaking his head. “Becks. That’s not…”
I don’t want to hear it. Now that I’m crying, which he hates, and I’m calling him out, which he hates even more, he’s going to try to appease me. It’s how Joe operates.
Well, I’m not going to let him pacify me this time. He can’t just brush over this like his words didn’t hurt.
