I get back into my regular clothes and head for the door, ready to hunt down Jasper and try and fix this before it gets out of control again. I have to tell him I’m not interested in Olive. I have to make sure he doesn’t try to corner me and murder me again, despite his drunken admission the other night.
If anything, what he said to me that night just makes him even more unpredictable. Even more dangerous.
But any thoughts of some sort of man-to-man conversation with Jasper is cut off as soon as I step out of the locker room and slam straight into Beck’s chest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Beck grabs me and pushes me against the door.
“What was that?” he snaps. “Where is Heath?”
“I don’t know,” I gasp, struggling.
Beck somehow presses even closer to me. “You were the last one with him. You have to know something. He never misses a game.”
I can practically feel the animosity leeching out of him.
“I don’t. He didn’t tell me anything.”
Beck narrows his eyes at me, but he doesn’t let go. “You stole his spotlight,” he says, leaning toward me.
“I didn’t want the spotlight!”
“Liar,” he growls, his hands digging into the flesh of my arms. I wince in pain, expecting a blow to come next, but instead his face changes. His grip loosens … just a bit.
“I’m not lying,” I tell him, reaching to touch the still throbbing spot on my arm.
But Beck grabs my chin and tugs it so that I’m forced to look at him. The accusation is as sharp in his eyes as it is on his tongue.
“You did this on purpose.”
“I didn’t do anything!” I finally snap. “Heath was acting weird and the coach wouldn’t let me help him!”
“You’re lying!” His eyes are wide with rage, and he gets that crazy gleam that I usually associate with Jasper. Beck’s maniacal, sure, but Jasper’s the one who lets his anger get the best of him.
Until today.
Today Beck breaks.
But not in the way I expect.
That light in Beck’s eyes burns furiously bright in the moment before he suddenly leans down and presses his lips fiercely against mine.
And he doesn’t pull away.
I freeze.
I’m confused.
He seems confused too, even as he moves his hands from my arms to my back to pull me close to him.
I put my arms between us so our chests don’t touch, but man, do I wish they could. He kisses me hard, and he’s warm and solid. His fingertips grip my shirt, balling the fabric up in his fists. His lips part just slightly and start moving against mine.
I remember being on the bridge with him. This almost happened there, I think. He wanted to kiss me, and I wanted him to—I know that now. Angry as he is, I want to kiss him too. Right here, right now. It’s all fear and desire and rage and frustration and passion. Heat spreads through me as I press my hands against his solid chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt.
Just as suddenly as he kissed me, he’s suddenly shoving me away.
He pushes me from him and I stumble, losing my balance some. Beck takes a step back and touches his mouth, panting, as he stares wide-eyed at me.