to live for the hope of it all.

Chapter 22

October 7th, 2023

"Let's go all the way tonight,
No regrets, just love..."

Bailey

My first sort of lie to Beckett.

We were driving back to his place, and he still continued to ask me if I was cold even after he turned on the heater in his truck. How do I explain that I am burrowed in his jacket and keep subconsciously sniffling because it smells like him?

I'm really not cold, I'm quite the opposite since he's given me his hoodie to wear. I'd recognized it as one he's worn before, a few years back maybe. But as soon as I put it on, all I could smell was him. It made me think of after his game last night, when he'd hugged me and even though it was after a game, I'd felt surrounded by his smell.

Thinking about it made my cheeks warm and my heart speed up. I had taken a second to soak it in before I realized I probably looked ridiculous and snapped out of it.

But when I'd looked up, Beckett was looking at me with an unreadable expression and the nerves came right back. He assured me he didn't want it back, and I was a little relieved I didn't have to give it up so soon.

It wasn't until we were walking into Beckett's house that I remembered he said his mom and Delilah were gone for the day.

That's okay. It'll be fine.

"Just let me know when you get hungry and we can order pizza, or whatever you want," Beckett said, smiling at me as he plopped down on the couch with the remote in his hand. Beau trotted over before plopping himself down by Beckett's feet. I watched from the doorway with a soft smile at the sight, and then made a split second decision.

Making my way to the couch, I sat next to Beckett with only a foot of space between us. I heard his breath hitch and I immediately hid my face by pretending to adjust the blanket on the opposite side of me before pulling it over my legs.

The last time we were here, we had sat on opposite sides of the couch, so this was a leap. But it was one I really wanted to take. We weren't even touching, and he was closer to the end of the sofa, but if he were to prop his legs up at an angle on the coffee table like he did last time, his thigh would brush my knee from where I sat cross legged.

Breathe, Bailey.

Beckett cleared his throat, and then propped his legs up so he could lean back more comfortably. Just as his leg brushed mine as he adjusted, he spoke.

"How far do you think we'll go tonight?"

What?!

"Uh," I coughed, face overheating. "I'm not, um-"

His eyes widened in shock and he sat up, his own face heating up.

"No! Fuck. That's not what I meant," he rushed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I cannot believe those words just came out of my mouth."

Me neither.

I sat still, unable to form a coherent thought. He sighed before opening his eyes and meeting mine hesitantly.

"I swear that is not what I meant. I was talking about the show, asking how far you think we would make it episode wise," he explained, and my heart seized at how serious he was taking his slip up. I swallowed a laugh and pulled my lips into a thin line to try and hide the grin that was overtaking my face.

"You're laughing at me," he astonished.

"I'm sorry," I laughed, not holding it back anymore. "I'm not trying to, I promise."

"It's okay. As long as you know I really didn't mean it that way," he said, tone genuine.

"I know, Beckett. It's okay."

"Good," he sighed, sitting back into his position. His leg brushed mine again and I swallowed as heat spanned from where we touched and to the rest of my body. Beckett pressed play where we left off last time, and I burrowed back into the couch, our legs still touching.

5 episodes later, and I was silently pleading with my stomach to not growl out loud. But like the traitor it is, it betrayed me just as it did last time. I clutched the pillow a little tighter to try and cover the sound, but my efforts failed when Beckett paused mid-episode.

"Okay, I know I said I'd wait till you were hungry, but I skipped lunch by accident," he said, sheepishly. "Would it be okay if we ordered it now?"

I guess he didn't hear my stomach.

"Sure."

Beckett grabbed his phone from where it laid on the coffee table before opening it up.

"Little shit," he mumbled under his breath.

"What?" I laughed. He turned his phone in my direction and on it was a photo of Caleb in front of piles of food from Wingstop. He must have had every flavor in front of him, and it looked delicious.

"Do you want to get wingstop instead of pizza?" I asked.

"Do you like wingstop?"

"I love it, I don't get it often, but it's always really good," I said.

It's better than good. It's great.

"Okay, let's do it," he smiled, excitedly. "What do you want?"

I gave him my order and watched as he put it in before adding his and getting it addressed here.

"How much do you want me to send you?" I asked, opening my phone.

"What? Bailey, no. I invited you," he said. "It's on me."

Oh.

"Are you sure? You don't have to."

"I want to."

"Okay," I swallowed. "Thank you, Beckett."

Pressing play, Beckett readjusted on the couch so instead of leaning against the arm rest, he was leaning in my general direction. My own breathing hitched, but his attention was on the show while I momentarily froze. Uncrossing my legs, I propped them on the table like his. Then I held my breath as I leaned back, a little towards him this time before relaxing into the sofa completely.

Our shoulders brushed at this angle, and I could now feel his touch in two places. He didn't tense, and when I sneaked a glance in his direction, he was watching the show with a soft tilt of his lips. And I felt my own lifting too knowing that I hadn't misunderstood his body language. I sighed, turning my attention back to the tv.

It's funny, I've watched this show multiple times through and through, but this is the most happy and comfortable I've ever been while doing it.

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