With that, he tugs on his mask, giving a thumbs up once he confirms it’s in place.
We give it a valiant effort, but apparently, Larsen and Li are so in sync that they practically danced through the maze. The social media team showed us some video clips of Li meticulouslyguiding Larsen through each twist of their challenge, and honestly, they should’ve won.
With this competition a wash, Finley and I have to win these next rounds if we’re going to guarantee the funding goes to Lilly and the Wishes and Wings program.
I head out as soon as Sabrina wraps everything up, knowing the rest of the crew I drove in will find me at my vehicle. Or they can take a rideshare back, for all I care.
“Hey, Beckett,” Callan calls, catching me halfway through the parking lot. “I have a poker night with some of the other old pros in the area every now and then. You should come.”
Right. Like I’m going to hang out with a bunch of other old, almost washed-up athletes. Does anything sound more depressing than that?
“I don’t know,” I say. “Things are crazy this time of year.”
“I get it,” Callan replies. “Honestly. But I also know how isolating this life can be. Especially when you’re older and out of the party scene. It’s a good, low-key time. Just think about it.”
“I will.” There. Done. Thought about it. Still no.
“Oh, and how cool is Finley?” Callan asks, turning as he walks away. “God, she reminds me so much of my little sister. I swear it made me want to give her a noogie.”
I smile and wave. “So cool.”
Maybe I will make his next poker night.
Chapter 19
Finley
“Queenie?”Beckettcalls,knockingon my door a second time.
I glance at the clock. Shit. I’m so late. Usually, I’ve already been at his place for twenty minutes by now, eating the meals he insists his chef makes for me and chatting about our day. Or the upcoming game. Or practicing for the next challenge—which is really just trying to learn everything about each other.
Except, not tonight.
Because tonight, after a long conversation where my dad reminded me of the very fine line I walk every day, I made the mistake of opening the comments section of one of the Challenge videos. It’s of Beckett giving me pointers as I crossed the obstacle course, and it looks like we’re in perfect sync. Of course, someone had to make a benign comment about how great a couple we’d make. The responses have been brutal. Disparaging. Unsurprisingly, way more judgmental of me than him.
Though in this situation, Iwouldbe the one in the wrong.
Yay me, for finally being in a position where I can abuse my power.
I use the knuckles of my pointer fingers to wipe under my eyes as I make my way to the door.
“Hey.” I clear my throat, hoping he won’t notice the hitch in my voice.
“Hey, I brought dinner over here since you were taking forever,” Beckett says, focused on the two plates of food in his hands.
I step back to let him in. “Thanks.”
“You’re wel—wait. Fin, have you been crying?”
After wiping my eyes again, as if it will hide the truth, I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
Beckett sets the plates on my table before walking toward me. He dips his head slightly, so his eyes are directly in line with mine. His thumbs gently stroke beneath my eyes, swiping more tears from my face. “You’re not fine. Tell me what happened.”
My breath hitches. Oh my goodness. He is inches from me. He’s touching my face. Suddenly, I don’t care about the comments. It’s taking every ounce of my concentration not to look at his lips. Because I know if I do, I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.
And that would be terrible. Horrible. The worst. Beckett Kane’s lips pressed to mine would be catastrophic.
“I made the mistake of reading some comments online,” I say instead.
