In turn, I look at him like he’s a bug that I’m deciding whether or not to flick out of the way. Apparently, Keeley brings out my protective side. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” Andrew says coldly. “I’m Andrew. Becks, was it?” “You can call me Beckett,” I say pleasantly, and Keeley snorts with sudden laughter. She claps a hand over her mouth, like she’s trying to force the outburst back in.
