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“If you’re doing the same as everyone else, you’re not going to be the best.”
Adler Beck may be German, but he’s mastered the French kiss.
“I’ve never been on a date.” Beck breaks our volley. “What do you think this is?”
“Thank you,” I tell him quietly. He walks alongside me silently for a few seconds. Then, “I was wrong before.” “Doesn’t surprise me,” I reply. “About what?” “You would know what to do with a kid.”
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I repeat, emphasizing the last word. Maybe if I do so enough, I’ll believe it.
“Otto hung a sign that says, ‘Saylor Scott’s Inspiration’ above my locker,” Beck states. A reluctant grin tugs at my lips. “That’s kind of funny.” It’s also nice to know he didn’t totally erase me from his life the way I’ve tried to remove him from mine. “I thought so, too,” Beck admits. “Not that I’ll ever tell him that.”
“I want you, Saylor. Just you.”
“It means I want to date you. Be in a relationship. Whatever you want to call it. I want you, Saylor.”
“You’re a lot more than that to me… but I can’t figure out what I am to you. If I’m anything to you.”
“Like we could be doing anything in the world and it would still be as thrilling as skydiving.”
“I don’t want to go skydiving with you, Saylor. I want to be the person you rely on when you’re acting like you can do everything on your own.” His words remind me of my dad’s, and I push back the same way I did at the wedding. “I can do everything on my own,” I insist. “There’s a difference between wanting to and having to,” Beck replies sagely.

