by Dean, Ali
Beck swallows and shifts his hands on the steering wheel. “Actually, the public relationship clause runs through November next year.”
I fall back in my seat, staring ahead blindly. Beck keeps talking. “The show starts airing in August and runs for about four months. Until it’s over, the public has to believe everyone on the show is single.”
“Unless they get with someone else on the show,” I add, unable to hide my bitterness. Because, dammit, I am bitter.
Beck doesn’t respond to that comment.
The gravity of all of it hits me hard. If there’s speculation about our relationship now, it’s not as big a deal. We can afford slips like this weekend. But for the next year? We have to be even more careful while the contract is in effect.
My throat goes dry. So much for traveling together this summer.
Beck
I’ve managed not to let myself really think about what the contract means for us until right this moment. My chest is on fire, angry at the situation, pissed at myself, and feeling trapped and helpless. The only time I felt anything remotely close to this was when Mom and Dad divorced and I figured out the reasons why. But that was a long time ago, and even as a kid, I knew it wasn’t really about me. Now? This is all on me, and the girl beside me has become my world, my present and future. What’s coming for the first full year of our relationship is going to be rough.
“Hey.” I reach a hand out, needing a connection. She went from looking so happy to as lost and helpless as I feel, and that makes the fire burning inside me rage harder. “We’re tough. We’re good. We got this. Someday, at our wedding, it will be a story we laugh about. We tell our kids.” I’m trying to draw on the connection we had at the wedding, but that was when it was fun and light and not totally real. Any reference to a dream future in this moment falls flat.
She takes my hand though, but when she finally speaks, her voice cracks a little. “Yeah, we got this.” It doesn’t sound very confident though, and a little piece of me breaks.
Am I selfish to ask her to go through this with me? When I hear my phone and see Griff’s name on the screen my stomach drops as the worst thought ever pops into my head. She would have been better off with Griff than me. She wouldn’t be dealing with any of this. It would’ve been so much easier. Was I an asshole to stop that? Did I even have a choice? I snap out of it before I can let my mind run with those asinine thoughts. It’s me she loves. It was me and Jordan from the beginning, and that’s that.
“What’s up, man?” I answer.
“You guys almost back?”
“Yeah, turning to drop off Jordan at the dorm now.”
“Hey Griff,” Jordan says, sounding tired.
“You guys want to swing by the apartment first instead? I should talk to you about some messages I’m getting.”
“What kind of messages?” Jordan asks.
“Oh, just a couple of different chicks asking if you and me are a couple and then wondering if I know you were with Beck this weekend.”
My stomach rolls. “Just don’t respond, man. I’ll talk to my agent tomorrow, see if we should ignore any speculation or if Vienna has a better idea.”
Jordan’s knees are bouncing in the seat beside me, and as I pull up to her dorm, I can’t let her out. Not like this.
“All right,” Griff says. “Keep me posted.” He signs off and Jordan sighs as she reaches for the door handle.
“Hey, let’s not end the weekend like this.”
“Beck, it’s late. I’ve got classes tomorrow morning.”
I can’t let her go when I’ve just dropped the bomb about the year-long contract, when we’ve just learned a social media storm is brewing with speculation about us. No fucking way.
“Come on, we’re going to the garage.” I pull away from the curb before she can say no.
We spent hours skateboarding together already today, but if there’s one thing that can make this just a tiny bit easier to deal with, it’s skating together.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jordan
Two weeks. We’ve got two weeks together before everything changes and it’s going by too fast. The campus vibe is shifting to study mode as we finish the last week of classes and finals start up. As much as I want to spend every moment skateboarding with Beck before I go home for winter break, both of us are stuck in our books. He’s got a hell of a finals schedule with all the credits he’s taking, and this is my first time experiencing what it’s like to have most of my grade come from one exam or paper. I barely see my friends, wanting to be with Beck whenever I can. We end up studying mostly in his apartment, and without either one of us acknowledging it, I know it’s so that we can be ourselves without worrying about the whole public speculation thing.
Vienna, Beck’s agent, tells us and Griff to ignore any questions or comments for now on social media. After a week, we all breathe a sigh of relief when nothing more seems to come of it.
“So what are you making me for breakfast?” I ask as we walk up the stairs from the gym in Beck’s apartment building the following Sunday morning.
“Sweet potato pancakes.,” he says from right behind me.
“I can feel you staring at my ass, you know.”
He slaps one of the cheeks.
“Hey!” I spin around, laughing.
Beck throws his hands up in innocence as we reach the top of the stairs. “I was just assessing the muscle tone. The visual wasn’t enough detail, I needed some physical contact too.”
I step into him, both of us sweaty from lifting and strength exercises for nearly an hour. “Oh yeah? What did you decide? Do you need to adjust the workout plan, coach?”
For the past few weeks, I’ve started joining Beck in the gym. He and Griff both think strengthening can go a long way toward injury prevention and just generally skateboarding with more pop in the park. I’ve got no experience whatsoever in a weight room so I’m grateful for Beck’s guidance.
Beck’s a step below me, and his hands land on the back of my thighs. “I think you might need a nice long shower, with me. And then a rub-down.”
“Oh yeah?” I lean closer, my hands gripping his shoulders.
“Mm-hmm,” he says as his hands run up my legs.
Neither of us hear a door opening, but we do hear the sound of Naomi’s voice. “Hey! You two, get in here.”
I look behind me and find Naomi holding the door open. She has a cute expression on her face, and I know she’s not too weirded out catching us like this. But she also looks a bit frazzled.
“Rugrat, what are you doing here so early?” Beck asks as we obey her order and head into the apartment.
“Well, I’ve got a license now and my own sweet Jeep Wrangler.”
Summer’s sitting at the kitchen counter with an open box of donuts in front of her. She grins and bites into a pink frosted one with sprinkles. “We don’t sleep ‘til noon like some teenagers. We’ve got important jobs as your social media managers.”
Naomi moves to the counter and leans on her elbows. “And it’s a good thing you’ve got us because we’ve got a situation.”
Beck and I share a look. Guess we won’t be getting that shower and rub-down anytime soon. “All right, tell me about it while we peel these things.” Beck reaches for a bowl on the counter filled with sweet potatoes.
Instead of telling us, Naomi puts her phone in front of us.
We stare at the screen together, finding more pictures of us from the wedding. They’re from an account I don’t recognize, but the little blue check mark next to it indicates it has over ten thousand followers. The pictures are similar to the ones Skye posted, but this time the roll of images displays only me and Beck. We’re not kissing or holding hands in any of them, though we are dancing awfully close and looking like a couple. The real nail in the coffin isn’t the images though, it’s the text below: “Had so much fun hanging with the cutest couple ever last weekend! These two skateboarding superstars are so hot together, aren’t they?
”
Beck clicks on the profile that posted it. Some girl named Crystal.
“Who is this chick?” Beck asks.
“I think she was one of the bridesmaids,” Summer answers. “She’s got a fashion and make-up blog.”
I point to a couple of images in her profile. “Oh yeah, she sat next to me at the dinner table. She seemed perfectly nice.”
Beck hands the phone back to his sister. “It’s not a mean post, other than using two people with big followings to help grow her own following.”
The sour taste in my mouth doesn’t agree. “She makes it sound like she’s friends with us and knows for sure we’re a couple.”
Beck hands me a peeler for the potatoes. “She’s just trying to grow her following. And she doesn’t have any reason to think this could hurt us. She had every reason to think we are a couple. And the cutest one ever at that. Hot too.” He’s teasing me, and I don’t get why he’s not upset.
I look back to Naomi and Summer. “So, can we just untag ourselves? Maybe ask her to take it down?” Part of me is so tired of this game, I don’t even want to play it anymore. But even if I hadn’t chosen to join Brazen and compete, being with Beck means dealing with stuff like this. And anyway, I can’t deny I’m already itching for my next competition.
“Yeah, but it’s kind of too late,” Summer says with a cringe. “You know that chick, razzleydazzles or whatever, who’s been messaging you shit?”
Beck stops peeling a potato beside me and I feel his eyes on me.
“Yeah,” I answer Summer without looking at him.
“She reposted one of the pics, and then one from the Skate Wave article with you and Griff, asking which one you’re with and saying you can’t have both.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then Beck puts down the peeler and sweet potato and turns his body to mine, forcing me to look at him.
“Is this one of the accounts that sent the mean messages last week that we agreed you wouldn’t read?” he asks.
“Yeah, and I didn’t read those ones, Summer deleted them.”
“But she’s been sending more. There’s another account too, bubblerollie or something weird. One seems to think Beck is her soulmate and the other seems to be possessive about Griffin. But they both hate Jordan equally.”
Griff walks in then, wearing workout shorts and nothing else. “Who’s possessive of me?” He reaches for a donut.
Naomi answers, “Bubblerollie.”
Griff pauses with the donut at his mouth. He blinks a few times, shakes his head, and then takes a huge bite. “I need coffee,” he grumbles, maneuvering around his sister to the coffee pot.
My phone is charging on the counter behind me and I force myself to bring up Instagram and scroll through the damage. Yeah, the troll accounts saw the pictures from Crystal and it’s too late to simply untag or delete anything. The fire we thought we’d prevented last week is now ignited, and it’s too late to extinguish it. My legs start to feel weak and I walk over to an empty stool for a seat.
Beck’s studying me, but he doesn’t look half as frazzled as I feel. Actually, Beck looks pretty damn calm.
“Why aren’t you freaking out?” I ask him. “Isn’t this exactly what we’ve been trying to avoid?”
“Maybe I should be. But I’m actually relieved.”
“Relieved?”
“I’ve been wanting to talk to Shred Live, tell them I want out of that clause. I already asked Vienna to consult a lawyer.”
“But Beck, we talked about this.” I told him I don’t want to be a media spectacle and that’s exactly what will happen if he pulls out of Shred Live or somehow manages to modify the contract to be the only one on the show in a relationship. Maybe my position on that has changed though, too. Maybe I’m okay with being thrown in the fire if it means being real about my relationship with Beck.
“We’re talking about it now. I haven’t actually done anything yet. But I don’t know if I can keep you a secret for an entire year, Jordan. It will kill me, and I know it will hurt you too. So what’s worse, being a secret or potentially being a media spectacle?”
“That’s only if you can modify the contract so close to the start date. You risk hurting your career.” He even risks losing his career, maybe? I don’t know. “And the money, they could sue you or whatever, right?” I have no idea how this works, but it sounds like a clusterfuck, which is what we were trying to avoid.
Beck walks closer to me and tucks a stray hair behind my ear. “Jordan, I know I don’t live real extravagantly, but I’ve made a lot of money. I could retire today and be comfortable the rest of my life.”
Oh. Okay. I can’t quite process that information at the moment. “Right, well, financial stuff aside, all of that just seems like a huge risk. Maybe it will go pretty smoothly, but chances are it won’t. Especially if Shred Live uses the situation to try to get more interest in the show, you know?” My mind starts to spin with how this could all go down, with me getting thrown under the bus as a slut. The word is fresh in my mind from some of the messages I got from trolls following the wedding pictures and Skate Wave article last week. Honestly, I was surprised they didn’t really seem to get to me at all. But apparently, some of the mean words stuck.
“Hey, we don’t have to decide right this second, okay? Why don’t I set up a call with Vienna today to talk about possibilities.”
I don’t know anymore what would be best for Beck, for me, for us. And I definitely don’t know if all three of those interests align. The others have been silent but I look at them now. “What do you guys think we should do?”
Griff’s the first to answer. He puts down his coffee and braces his hands on the kitchen island. “You guys need to do whatever is best for you. Beck, man, I know you’re doing the reality thing for Brazen, and at the time it seemed like a great opportunity. But shit changed. That show’s not a priority anymore. You got the contract, but if you can get out of it or change it up, I say go for it.” Griff holds his friend’s eyes for a beat. “I’ve never seen you so happy and it’ll tear me up, all of us, if you guys have to go through hell because of this damn show.”
“I think what he’s saying,” Naomi says, “is we’d all support you just going public and dealing with the fallout from the contract.”
“And the trolls. Can’t forget those,” Summer adds, ever so helpfully.
Beck lets out a long breath and looks at me. I’m scared to be totally honest right now, because I can barely admit it to myself. As much as staying secret sucked, it also gave me some comfort, I’m realizing now. This past week I’ve gotten a new glimpse of what it would be like to be in Beck’s world, not just in private, but in the public eye, and I think I prefer our little bubble. But this isn’t really about me anymore, or my preferences. And another piece of me is jumping with joy at the idea of finally being able to call Beck mine to the rest of the world. What if I could shout it from the rooftops, literally, if I wanted to?
“Let’s call Vienna,” I tell Beck, unwilling to divulge my inner turmoil. Not now, not yet. It’s complicated enough already. “See what she says about the contract.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Beck
Vienna calls twenty minutes after I text her. I could take the call in my room with Jordan, but instead put her on speaker for everyone to listen in. There aren’t any secrets between us, and I’ve got a feeling Jordan wants the others’ opinions on what to do, so we’d be filling them in either way. I can see the turmoil on Jordan’s face. She’s conflicted. About which part of all this I’m not sure, but I hope we can get this shit resolved and move forward.
After telling Vienna who’s on the call with us, all of whom she’s met before except Jordan, she gets right to it. “So I’m guessing this is about the pictures from your dad’s wedding?”
“Yeah, that and the Shred Live contract and how I can get out of it.”
“Let’s talk about the pictures first.”
“Okay,” I agree, knowing
when she’s got something to say it’s best to let her say it.
“They aren’t conclusive. Yes you are dancing close and look like a couple, but we could still claim you’re just friends. You aren’t kissing or holding hands in any of them.”
I watch as all four of the others look down at their phones and start clicking and scrolling, probably to reevaluate the pictures through this lens.
“Maybe, but the comment is pretty conclusive. It’ll be hard to deny.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Where are you going with this, Vienna?” I’m impatient, wanting to get to the legal repercussions if I break the contract or discuss strategy for negotiating a modification.
“Did you see the posts by razzleydazzles and bubblerollie?”
“Yes.”
“An easy solution to all this is to announce that you and Jordan are good friends, colleagues at Brazen. She’s a family friend, close with your sister and Summer. And she attended the wedding with you as such. But, she’s actually in a relationship with Griffin.”
My entire body stiffens in protest at this proposal, even as I go through the motions of flipping pancakes.
“No,” I manage to snap out.
“Think about it, Beck. You’ve got an entire year of this. If people think Jordan and Griffin are a couple, you can go ahead with the contract without dealing with a legal battle. Once filming is done, you’ll spend lots of time with both Griffin and Jordan. There’s already speculation about the two of them from the Skate Wave article. We’ll play into that.”
No one says a word. It’s painful just to hear her talk about it. There’s no way I could go through with it. No way.
“It’s the neatest, simplest solution to all this,” she adds, pushing the knife that’s been twisting in my stomach even deeper.
I’m too angry to speak as I continue the process of moving pancakes onto a plate and pouring batter onto the skillet for the next batch.
Jordan finally breaks the silence. “And if we don’t want to do that?”