Chapter Three

Beck

Willow. Willow. Willow. She's the most amazing, brave, strong, beautiful girl I know, even if she doesn't think so. She also gets herself into some of the most unnerving situations. Then again, most of the time, it isn't her fault.

She's had a difficult life, starting from when her dad walked out when she was six. I met her not too long after that happened. She was so quiet, sad, and broken back then. Sometimes, she still looks that way, her big eyes so crammed with pain, sadness, and the stress of a difficult life. All I want to do is hug her, which I try to do as much as she'll let me.

But the touching thing is becoming a real problem lately. For me, anyway.

Somewhere along the road of friendship, I started seeing her as more than a friend. Way, way more.

After we get into my car, I drive toward her house, taking subtle breaths to try to calm the fuck down. I'm normally a fairly calm guy and prefer talking things out instead of throwing punches. But when I heard that guy trying to coax Willow into opening the door, uncontrollable anger blazed through me. Then I pulled up and saw him running to his car, and I lost any ounce of calm I had left. If Willow hadn't stopped me, I don't know what I would've done. Probably rammed my fist into his face until my knuckles broke. I should feel rattled by that, but thinking about what that guy probably wanted to do to her ...

I open and flex my fingers, sucking in an unsteady exhale.

"Are you okay?" Willow fixes her big eyes on my hands. "Why're your hands shaking?"

"They're just having a spasm," I lie, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. "Too much typing up assignments, I think."

She gives me a dubious look. "Since when do you even do assignments?"

I press my hand to my heart, mocking offense. "Are you saying I'm a slacker?"

"No ... but you did get away with only taking tests during our senior year."

"Hey, it's not my fault the tests were so damn easy. And if I can ace them without doing the homework, then why do the homework?"

She shrugs. "I don't know ... I guess I can kind of see your point. Although, I could never get away with doing that."

I reach over and lightly tug on a strand of her hair. "Of course you could. You're the smartest person I know." I offer her a lopsided smile. "You're just an overachiever."

Her face scrunches. "Sometimes, I wish I wasn't, though."

"Since when?" I search her sad eyes, wondering what's bothering her tonight.

"I don't know ... since forever, I guess." She shrugs, picking at her fingernails. "I just think life would be way easier if I wasn't always trying so hard and just didn't care."

"It's not," I tell her. "Trust me, I know."

She gives me the look, the one that means she's about to defend my slacker actions and stroke my ego. "You're not a slacker. You just don't like wasting time by doing stuff you don't like. But you work so hard and always do what you love." She sighs, resting her head against the window, dazing off into her own little world. "I wish I could spend my life having more fun and being less stressed out."

"You could." I reach out and place my hand over hers. "You just have to stop worrying about everything so much."

"Yeah, but I don't have just me to worry about," she mutters, her hand twitching underneath mine, but she doesn't pull back.

We sink into silence as Willow stares out the window, lost in thought, probably stressing over her car, her mom, school, bills. At eighteen years old, she has more responsibilities than most people have in a lifetime. I wish I could take some of the burden away for her, but she rarely accepts my offers to help. I love helping her. I wish she'd stop being so stubborn and let me fix her car so I wouldn't have to worry about her getting into another situation like tonight. Until she does get her car fixed, I'll spend my nights worrying about her safety.

Then again, at this point in my life, I should be used to it. 

Ever since grade school when we first became friends, I felt a need to protect Willow, like when other kids teased her because she wore old clothes and glasses that were too big. Plus, she was so shy and rarely stood up for herself. That quickly became my job, and I spent many recesses warding off anyone who dared come near her on the playground. During middle school, though, my warding off days diminished, mostly because Willow changed.

So did the way I looked at her.

I remember the moment clearly. My mom had dragged me to France with her for the entire summer, and I didn't see Willow for three months straight. By the time I returned, I was excited to go back to school, to return to normalcy, to eat a cheeseburger, and to see my friends, particularly Willow. Partly because I wanted to check up on her, and partly because I simply missed her.

I didn't get a chance to see her until the first day of school, but a couple of our other friends, she, and I all agreed over the phone to meet out front so we could walk in together.

Wynter showed up first. She looked pretty much the same as she had at the beginning of summer. Her blonde hair was a little longer, and she was wearing a dress like she usually did.

"Hello, Beckett. Long time no see." She plopped down beside me on the short wall that ran down the side of the stairway that led to the school.

"I wish you'd stop calling me that." My lip twitched. I hated when she called me Beckett. My dad used my full name when he yelled at me, telling me how much of a screw-up I am. Wynter knew I loathed the name, but she loved getting under my skin.

"Why?" Her eyes sparkled mischievously in the sunlight. "It's your name, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but you know I hate it."

"Which makes it even more appealing."

I blew out an exasperated breath, keeping my lips sealed. It was too early in the morning to argue with her, something we did a lot. Some of my friends said we acted this way because we were so much alike. Perhaps that was true. Wynter came from a wealthy family like me, and our parents could sometimes be neglectful. But they made up for their absence by showering us with gifts. Still, I thought Wynter acted more spoiled than I did.

She crossed her legs, fiddling with her diamond bracelet. "So was Paris any fun? I bet it was. I wish my parents would take me there. They hate taking me on trips with them, though. You're so lucky your mom takes you places sometimes."

"Yeah, I guess so." I didn't mean to sound grumpy, but going on trips with my mom meant sitting in a hotel room while she went shopping. The only reason she brought me was because my dad didn't want to be responsible for me.

I sat back on my hands and stared at the people walking up and down the stairway in front of us. "The food kind of sucked, though."

"Whatever. I bet it didn't. I bet you were just being ... well, you."

I shot her a dirty look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She gave a half-shrug. "That sometimes, you don't appreciate the finer things in life."

I shot an insinuating look at the bracelet on her wrist. "Isn't that like the pot calling the kettle black?"

She covered the bracelet with her hand. "That's different. I appreciate my parents for getting this for me."

"And I appreciate my mom for taking me to Paris. That doesn't mean I have to lie and say I liked the food or say I had a blast when I didn't."

"God, you're so spoiled."

I resisted an eye roll, biting my tongue. Again, it was too early in the morning for this shit.

"Do you know what time Willow and Luna are supposed to be here?" I glanced at the parent drop-off section at the bottom of the stairway. "I really want to go see where my locker is before the bell rings. Oh, yeah, and I met this guy—Ari—the other day when I was hanging out at the skate park. He just moved here. He seems pretty cool. I told him he could hang out with us."

"What's he like? Is he cute?"

"What do I look like, a girl?"

"Sometimes, you act like one."

God, I really need more guy friends.

"And you can be such a brat sometimes, but you don't see me pointing it out every two seconds." I waved at Levi and Jack, two of my other friends, ignoring Wynter's withering gaze.

Levi cupped his hands around his mouth. "Yo, Beck, you coming in?"

"In a bit," I called out. "I'm waiting for Luna and Willow to show up."

"So, which one of them are you dating now?" Levi teased, and Jack laughed.

I flipped them the middle finger, and they howled with laughter before pushing through the entrance doors.

"I can't believe people are still giving you crap for hanging out with girls," Wynter said, frowning. "They really just need to get over it."

"You mean like you just did?" I questioned.

She shrugged. "That's different."

"How do you figure?"

"Because I'm your friend."

I didn't even bother trying to understand her logic. Instead, I asked her what classes she was taking, which seemed like a safe topic.

Wynter and I talked until we spotted Luna's mom's van pulling into the drop-off area. The side door rolled open, and Luna hopped out. She was wearing a godawful yellow turtleneck and baggy jeans. Poor girl. I didn't know why she dressed in such hideous outfits. I figured her mom made her. I didn't know for sure, though. Other kids made fun of her a lot, and I stuck up for her when I could, but it never felt like enough.

Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Luna moved to the rolled down passenger window to talk to her mom while Willow jumped out. Well, I thought the tall girl without glasses was Willow, anyway. I wasn't so sure.

She looked way different. Her long brown hair was down and wavy, and she was wearing tight black jeans, a thick pair of boots laced up to her knees, and a plaid shirt over a fitted tank top.

I assessed her as she waited for Luna to finish talking to her mom. The clothes weren't flashy, but Willow usually wore loose-fitted jeans, baggy T-shirts, glasses, and her hair was always in a ponytail. She looked so different that it was kind of wigging me out.

When the two of them headed up the stairs, I hopped off the wall to meet them halfway. The closer I got, the more I noticed that Willow had gotten taller, and she filled out her clothes more. She looked good. Really, really good.

I quickly shoved the thought away. No fucking way was I going there. Getting a crush on my best friend would be stupid. And there were plenty of other girls around, ones who wouldn't destroy my life when we broke up. And that's what would happen if I dated Willow and we broke up. I'd lose the only person who knew most of my secrets, who knew how crappy I felt when my dad told me I was a screw-up, who knew I secretly cried during sad movies sometimes, who knew I got lonely a lot. Who would break just as much if she lost me, too. Because Willow needed me as much as I needed her.

Clearing my head of Willow's sudden hotness, I continued down the stairway straight for her. When Willow spotted me, her eyes lit up as she bounced and threw her arms around me.

"I'm so glad you're back." She hugged the crap out of me. "I missed you."

I hugged her back, spinning her around until she laughed. "I missed you, too." And I was so worried about you while I was gone.

Wynter glowered at me as I set Willow down on her feet. "Why didn't I get that kind of hello?" she asked.

I shrugged, and her eyes narrowed even more. I didn't have an answer to give her, not one I was going to share.

The truth was, ever since the day Willow confided in me about her home life, I felt an overpowering connection to her, enough that I told her some of my secrets, too.

"So, how was Paris?" Willow asked me excitedly. "Was it as cool as it sounds? Because it sounds pretty cool."

"It was okay." I stuffed my hands into my back pockets. "It would've been more fun if you were there."

"See? Again, he's nicer to Willow," Wynter whined to Luna. "Why can't we get that kind of treatment?"

"Beck is nice to us," Luna said, fidgeting with the collar of her turtleneck.

Ignoring them, I pulled out a small box from my backpack. "I got you something." I handed the box to Willow. "I saw it in the airport, and it kind of reminded me of you."

"You didn't have to get me anything." But she smiled and opened the box. "Oh! Cool." She picked up the miniature snow globe and gave it a shake. Then her eyes met mine, her smile practically glowing, which made me feel like I was glowing. "Thanks, Beck. You're the best. Seriously, you spoil me too much."

I shrugged, playing it cool, but really, I felt super proud that I got her to smile. "I figured you could add it to that collection your dad gave you."

The happiness in her eyes faded to sadness as her eyes travelled to the snow globe. "Yeah, I could."

Crap. I didn't think it through very well. "Sorry. I didn't mean to remind you of your dad." I reached for the snow globe. "I can get rid of it if you want."

She tucked it behind her back, shaking her head. "No way. I love it too much. Plus, it's from Paris."

I relaxed, wondering why I was so nervous. "Good. I'm glad you like it. My mom tried to talk me into buying you a bracelet, but I told her you weren't a bracelet kind of girl."

"No, I'm definitely not." Willow fell into step with me as we headed up the stairway, staring at the snow globe in her hand. Luna and Wynter followed, lost in their own conversation.

"So, how was your summer?" I asked, hoping to distract her from thoughts of her jerk of a father who bailed on her and her mom. "You didn't have any problems, right? I mean, with your mom?"

"I guess not ... Her new boyfriend moved in with us about a month ago ... He has a cat ..." She sighed, rotating the snow globe in her hand. "I think I'm allergic to cats. I wake up every day sneezing, and my eyes are always red."

"Aw, Wills, I'm so sorry." I draped an arm around her and steered her to the side as I maneuvered the door open. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

"I don't think there's anything you can do." Her frown deepened as we wandered down the busy hallway with Luna and Wynter still trailing behind us. "You know how my mom gets ... And it's just a cat." Another stressed sigh. "It just sucks because her stupid boyfriend doesn't even like kids. He told me that when he moved in, that he hates kids and that I need to make sure I stay out of his way or he might have to send me off to boarding school." She shook her head, folding her fingers around the snow globe. "Like he could really do that. He doesn't even have a job."

I hated that

her mom put her boyfriends above Willow and that she brought such sketchy guys into the house. I once offered to let Willow live in one of our five guest rooms so she could get away from her mom's creepy boyfriends. I doubted my parents would notice her living with us, considering they were hardly ever home. But Willow declined like she usually did when I tried to give her things. Even when she needed my help, she had a hard time asking.

I massaged her shoulder. "I should get you a dog, one that's well-trained and will keep that guy away and the cat, too."

"My mom would probably get rid of it." She tucked the snow globe into the side pocket of her backpack then looked at me, forcing a smile on her face. "Tell me more about Paris. Did you see the Eiffel Tower? Oh, please tell me you went to the catacombs."

Noting the desperate subject change, I started telling her about my trip, even though I really didn't want to talk about it.

By the time we reached my locker, I noticed quite a few people, particularly guys, glancing in our direction. I figured they were looking at Wynter because that happened a lot. And sometimes guys would come up and ask me about her, see if she had a boyfriend. Later, when I was doodling in math class, I found out that the staring wasn't about Wynter after all.

"Hey, Beck, can I ask you something?" Levi plopped down into the desk in front of mine. "It's about that girl Willow you're always hanging out with."

I peered up from my doodling, confused. "Okay."

He twisted in his seat and rested his arms on my desk. "Does she have a boyfriend?"

His question threw me off guard.

Willow?

My Willow?

I wasn't sure how to respond. Normally, with Wynter, I answered honestly. Now, I found myself desperate to lie, to say that she did have a boyfriend so Levi wouldn't ask her out. Not that I didn't like Levi; I just didn't want Willow to have a boyfriend.

"She does, actually." I sat back in my seat. "I think he's a grade ahead of us."

"Really?" Levi frowned, thrumming his fingers on top of the desk. "Well, that sucks. She seems pretty cool. Plus, she's hot."

I shrugged, feeling a little guilty for lying. What would Willow do if she knew what I did? She always trusted me. Did I just break her trust?

What if she wanted to date Levi? Then I'd see less of her, and I barely survived the summer without her.

She trusted me so much, and she hardly trusted anyone.

I sighed and decided to tell her at lunchtime, even though I didn't want to.

"Levi likes me? Really?" she asked after I sat down at the lunch table and reluctantly told her what happened in math class.

"Yeah. That's what he said." I stuffed a handful of chips into my mouth, eyeing her over. "You don't seem that happy about it."

"That's because Levi's not her type." Wynter squeezed between Willow and me while Luna took a seat across the table.

"You have a type?" I asked Willow.

She shook her head, but a blush crept up her cheeks. "No."

"Yes, you do." Wynter popped the tab of her soda. "You told me this summer that you liked—"

Willow threw a carrot at Wynter, pegging her right in the face. "Shush. You promised you wouldn't tell."

I frowned. Willow told Wynter a secret that she didn't tell me?

"Hey," Wynter whined, chucking the carrot back at Willow. "That wasn't very nice."

Willow ducked out of the way, and the carrot fell onto the floor. "Well, you promised you wouldn't tell anyone."

"What's the big deal?" Wynter asked, tearing open a bag of chips. "So, you like a guy? It was bound to happen sometime."

Willow glared at Wynter. "Stop talking about this in front of everyone."

My frown deepened. Okay, now I'm part of the everyone.

Then the craziest thought occurred to me. What if Willow had a crush on me, and that's why she was so mad at Wynter? The idea should've made me uncomfortable, but honestly, I kind of liked it.

A few moments later, though, Wynter blabbed that Willow had a crush on Dominic, a guy who was a grade above us and wore studded bracelets and, I was pretty sure, eyeliner. That was the day I realized Willow had a type, and I was far from it.

I also realized I had a crush on my best friend.

My crush lasted all through middle school up to our junior year of high school. That year, everything changed. I went from thinking of Willow as my hot best friend to thinking she was a beautiful, kind, smart, caring girl I wanted to kiss all the time.

And I mean, all the fucking time.

I remember the first time I actually considered doing it. We were hanging out at my house, watching some stupid soap opera that was boring as shit, but there was nothing else on. Willow muted the volume and began ad-libbing for the characters. I joined in, and by the time the show was over, we were laughing our asses off.

That's when my dad walked in and ruined the moment by being his douchey self.

"What the hell are you doing?" He grabbed the remote from my hand and shut off the television. He was wearing a grey suit and red tie, ready to go off to work, on a Sunday, something he did every single week, never taking days off, always worrying about work, work, work. "Get off your ass and do something. Quit wasting your life."

He wasn't a horrible guy, just a huge believer that people should spend life working their asses off. The problem was, I loved to mess around, have fun, party, and play sports. I didn't have big goals or any real plans other than to pass Algebra and kick ass on the soccer field. I knew a lot of people my age who didn't have any major life goals yet.

"We were just watching TV." I frowned at the disappointment on his face. "It's Sunday morning. There's nothing else to do."

He crossed his arms and stared me down. "Well, if you had a job, then that wouldn't be a problem."

"I have a job," I argued, lowering my feet to the floor.

He laughed, and the noise made my muscles constrict. "Selling shit and lending out money isn't a job."

"Why?" I questioned with a crook of my brow. "I make money. Isn't that what a job is?"

"Watch your tone," he warned. "And no, that's not a job ... unless you want to work in sales. Is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? Spend hours in a store, trying to bullshit people into buying stuff? And doing so for a crap salary?" His tone dripped with sarcasm. "Sounds pretty rewarding, doesn't it?"

"Some people have to work in sales. There's nothing wrong with that. And I'm sure it's just as hard of work as what you do." I wanted to add that his job wasn't all that rewarding, either, that his career as a lawyer had turned him into a liar, a jerk, and a snob. Whatever. There was only so far I could push my father before I had to pay some extreme consequence.

"Get your ass up and come help me at the office," he snapped. "I'm going to teach you a thing or two about hard work."

His gaze shifted to Willow, and I had the strongest compulsion to move in front of her, protect her, though I knew my dad wouldn't harm her. I didn't even like that she had to sit here and witness his shit-fit.

"You should take my advice, too, young lady. There are better things to do than sit around, wasting your time and my son's." He eyed over her cut-offs, her unlaced boots, and the worn T-shirt she was wearing, and disgust flashed in his eyes. "Although, I'd suggest cleaning up a little before you tried to apply for jobs. Most companies won't hire people who look like they spend their nights sleeping in a cardboard box."

My hands balled into fists, and I started to rise. I rarely yelled at my dad, but as my lips parted, I knew I was about to scream at him to shut the fuck up.

Before the scream could leave my lips, however, Willow beat me to the punch.

"First of all, I don't think spending time with your son is a waste of time." Willow held her chin high, her voice wobbling slightly. "I learn a lot from spending time with Beck. And second, I have a job. Two, actually. So I don't need your advice."

My dad blinked, thrown off. Then his eyes narrowed. "What could you possibly learn from my son?" His eyes swept the room littered with candy wrappers and soda cans. "Other than how to sit around on your ass all day and be completely useless?"

God, I hated my father. Nothing I ever did was good enough. And I hated that Willow was here to witness this. Sure, she knew my dad was a dick from the stories I told her and from witnessing him ream me occasionally, but he'd never directed his douchiness on her before.

"He taught me how to play soccer the other day, which let me tell you, took a lot of patience." Willow counted down on her fingers, her eyes burning fiercely. "He taught me how to drive a stick, helped me open a savings account, showed me how to make interest in it. He's actually really smart with numbers, but you probably know that already since you're his dad." Her lips spread into a smile. "Oh, yeah, and he taught me how to eat cookies and drink milk at the same time, which doesn't sound like a big deal, but when you're having a cookie eating contest, it really comes in handy. And winning cookie contests is really important to me. In fact, I'm thinking about going pro. That is, if they'll let people who look like they live in cardboard boxes enter the competition. I'm not really sure about that. Maybe you know, though, since you're so smart."

I wasn't sure whether to jump in front of her, laugh, or kiss the freakin' shit out of her.

Steam practically fumed out of my dad's ears as his gaze shot to me. "Beckett, you have five minutes to say good-bye to your little friend and get ready to go to the office with me. And make sure to dress properly." Then he turned and stormed out of the room.

Once he was gone, I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding and turned toward Willow. "I'm so fucking sorry about that, Wills. Seriously, I can't believe he did that."

"You don't have to apologize," she insisted. "I already knew your dad was a dick."

"Still ... I should've told him

to go fuck himself when he said all that stuff to you. I was planning on it, I swear. You just beat me to it." I grinned. "You're kind of a badass when you want to be."

She smiled back at me. "I figured I could return the favour for all those years you stood up for me when kids called me a four-eyed freak. It just sucks that he's making you go to work with him. I know how much you don't want to work in an office."

"I'll be fine." I tried to sound convincing and failed epically. "A few days isn't going to hurt me."

"Still, if you need me to rescue you, call me." She scooted closer to me on the couch, and when our knees brushed, my gaze flew to her legs.

She was wearing shorts, something she rarely did and something I had more than fully noticed when she'd showed up at my house. Her legs were so long, and her skin looked so soft. She was gorgeous. I swear to God, some days, it drove me crazy. I thought about touching her all the time, running my fingers up the sides of her legs, maybe even the inside of her thighs. I often wondered, if I did, would she shudder? I imagined she would. Of course, that might have been because I wanted her so badly.

"You're okay, though, right?" Her voice was crammed with concern as she placed her hand on my leg, drawing my attention away from her legs. "You know what he said wasn't true, right?"

I blinked the desire away, knowing she'd probably run the hell out of here if she knew my thoughts. Well, either that or kick my ass.

"Yeah ... I'm used to his shit by now." My miserable tone suggested otherwise. I wasn't even sure my miserableness was because of my dad or from how much I wanted her without having the nerve to make a move.

She poked me in the side, and I flinched but laughed.

"Don't let him turn you into a wallower. That's not you. Don't let him take away who you are."

"It might be better if he did. I mean, everything he said was kind of true. I don't really have any direction or goals or anything." I was being overdramatic. At the same time, I kind of liked hearing her defend me. It made me feel all good inside. I wanted to hug her ... kiss her ... run my finger up the inside of her thigh ...

See? There I went again.

"You have direction and goals," she said. "They're just different from his."

I forced myself to focus on the conversation, carrying her gaze. "And yours."

"Yeah, so? My goals are boring. You're so much more fun than I am. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like you." She twisted a strand of her hair around her finger and chewed on her bottom lip, drawing all of my attention to her mouth.

Unable to control myself any longer, I started to lean in to do just that.

Her eyes snapped wide. "What are you doing?" she sputtered, slanting back.

Holy fucking shit, this is getting out of hand.

I tried to settle the hell down. Moving away damn near killed me. It went against everything I wanted.

That's when I realized how much I liked her. And not just because she was hot. I liked her for everything she was, for everything she did for me, for everything that we were. Some of my favourite life moments were experienced with her.

She made me laugh. She told me things I tried to convince myself I didn't need to hear. She got me. And I got her. I got her so much that I knew I could never act on my feelings because it would break her rule to never date anyone, at least until she finished college. She created the rule over the belief that it would help her not end up like her mom. I knew she never would. But when Willow made up her mind about something, she threw all of her effort into it, which meant there was a slim to none chance that me acting on my feelings would end well.

And so began the last three years of my self-torment, of wanting something I couldn't have. Something that was always right in front of me, reminding me how perfect life could be.

And, for a while, my self-torment was working.

Until the day I broke.

We were up in my room on my bed during a party, a little drunk and alone. I kept picturing myself laying her back, kissing her while exploring her body. I knew I couldn't act on my desires. At least, I did until she told me I was making her nervous, staring at my mouth like she wanted to taste me as badly as I wanted to taste her.

Hope rose inside me, and I went in for the kiss.

For a microsecond, everything was perfect as our lips connected for the first time.

And then she broke the kiss and took off, taking the perfection with her.

She's kept a hold of it ever since, and I question if I'll ever get it back, even after she gave me a piece of paper that pretty much informed me that we'd never kiss again.

A stupid piece of paper with a stupid rule: absolutely no lip-to-lip contact.

I'm not much of a rule follower. Never have been. But for the last year, I've tried to be ... for her.

Always for her.