"No." She sounded breathless. "My mom let me use her car this week."

"Good old Nancy." His grin brightened. "Am I still invited for chili and cornbread this weekend?"

Becky's foot started to push a rock back and forth on the ground. She didn't look up. "Yeah, of course. I know Eddie might come home this weekend."

"That's great. I've missed your brother." He cast me another questioning look.

I sighed and held out my hand. "I'm Samantha."

His hand enveloped mine. They were rough, slightly calloused, probably from throwing the football, but they weren't so rough to the touch. I could see why he dated Ashley DeCortts, the girl that seemed to reign over the cheerleaders. I suppose she daydreamed about the Ken Barbie he reminded me of, how he must've been the prince to her damsel in distress fairytale.

"I know. Adam Quinn."

"I know."

We grinned at each other.

"How're your hands?"

A faint scowl came to me. I remembered that he'd been there. "Oh, they're…" I lifted them up and shrugged. "I guess they're okay. They'll heal."

"You can drive home today?"

"What?"

"I saw your car here that night. Then I saw coach take off. I figured maybe you didn't have a ride or something."

"Oh, yeah. No, I'm fine. I've been driving all week."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Becky continued to hang her head and I arched an eyebrow.

"So," he watched her too. "Are you guys going to the beach party tomorrow night?"

Her head snapped up and her cheeks were in flames.

Not surprised.

Then she mumbled out, "I' dlove to, butIdon't know whereit's at."

"There's a party?" I asked with a frown at my redheaded friend.

"Yeah." His teeth were blinding. "You could both go with me?"

Becky whirled to me. Her eyes were fervent with hope.

"I…" I wanted to say no, but a stricken look came to her eyes. I crumbled. "Sure. You can pick us up at Becky's."

"Great."

"Great."

Becky breathed out, "Great!"

"I'll—uh—I'll see you then, I guess?"

I nodded. "See you then."

He jogged after the team, but glanced back with a small wave before he got onto the field.

Becky whooshed out, "I can't believe I'm going to a party with Adam Quinn."

My shoulder nudged her. "Maybe there's hope for you after all."

"What do you mean?"

"Here's your big chance." I gave her a duh look. "He's going to be drinking. You're going to be drinking. I can drive us home…"

Then she squeaked again and clamped her mouth shut. Her cheeks got big and her whole body was soon red, even her hands and fingers.

I laughed. "Now you just have to figure out what you're going to wear."

As I headed to my car, I heard her groan behind me. Somehow, things didn't seem so bad when I had a friend to distract me. Too bad it wouldn't keep. I wanted something to keep.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Becky was bouncing off the wall when I got to her house the next afternoon. I was dressed in see-through white summer dress that tied behind my neck. My black bikini was visible underneath and I had on simple black flip flops. While I was going for comfort, Becky wanted sexy.

She let out a dramatic groan and collapsed on her bed when I went to her room. One of her arms had been pulled through a black tube top, or that's what it looked like. A blinding rainbow colored bikini top had been pushed up. When she rolled over, she cried out, "I can't fit into anything."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have nothing, nothing! I'm so fat, Sam."

I frowned and grabbed her hand to pull her up. When she looked at me, I shrugged. "What do you want me to say? If you're trying to be a model, you need to lose weight. I think you're fine just how you are."

"Thanks a lot," she grumbled.

"I thought friends were honest." I flashed a grin.

She stood back up and struggled to pull the rest of her tube top over her left boob. Then she started to hop around. "Yeah, but it'd be easier to take if you didn't look how you did."

I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest.

She paused mid-hop. "That's a compliment."

"Oh." I loosened my arms. "My mom's always on me about my weight."

"You could gain some. You want mine?"

I chuckled and watched as she continued to hop around, sometimes skip around the room. After an hour, when Becky stopped to pant with beads of sweat on her forehead, I gestured to a dress in her closet. "Why don't you just wear that?"

"Ugh." She let out another drawn-out groan. "That makes me look like a tan marshmallow."

"It does not. You wore it to the first day of school. I thought you looked nice."

Her eyebrows arched high. "I didn't know you knew who I was back then?"

I shrugged. "I didn't, but I still thought you looked nice."

"Your besty Jessica called me fatso that day."

I rolled my eyes. "If she went out of her way to call you a name that meant you looked good. And I bet some guy she wanted to flirt with was looking at you instead."