BEAU
Zach pivots on his heel, taking in the full 360-view of the shabby apartment I'm renting and let's out a low whistle. Scanning the take-out containers and the clothes strewn about, he chuckles when he faces me again.
"You're still a slob."
I shrug casually, unbothered by the observation. "Like you said, some things don't change."
Mansion in LA or run-down apartment in the middle of nowhere, I hate doing laundry. And cooking. I never really learned how to be domestic, I guess.
I observe Zach intently as he takes a seat on the lumpy sofa that came with the place, pushing his sleeves back and leaning his forearms on his knees. After a moment of silence - one that's seems more uncomfortable for him than for me - he grins at me expectantly.
"I guess we should just get it over with." He runs a hand over his perfectly styled hair, "Did you think about what I said?"
I nod reluctantly, shame and embarrassment threatening to crack my neutral expression. "I've thought about it a lot."
"And?" Zach leans forward, excitement evident in his grin.
"And I don't think I can be your guitar player." I exhale, the burning regret at the back of my throat as scalding as ever.
Zach's face falls, his emotions always played out clearly in his expressions. "Oh."
I realize that I've stumped him - he was really sure I'd say yes. My brows furrow and I look away, into the kitchen and the endless piles of empty food containers. Up until this morning, I'd been pretty sure, too. How could I let music get away from me like this?
Running a hand over my face tiredly, I try to offer an explanation. "I'm not ready." God, I hate that. But a quick internet search reminded me why it's better if I stay away. "But maybe I could write for you."
Zach's mouth pops open and he closes it immediately, like a fish. Shoving a hand through his hair, he starts to laugh, seeming relieved.
"I mean, yeah, Beau. Obviously I wish you'd play but I'll take why I can get." He shakes his head. "I never thought I'd see the day when Beau Lewis wrote for someone else. I guess some things do change."
I try to mimic his easy chuckle but inside, I feel the same way. My work has always been my own. The idea of being behind the scenes makes my toes curl. But at least it's a start. A start that won't drag me through hell and cost me my family in the process.
"I'm not entirely happy about it." I sigh, headed into the kitchen for some water to soothe the flames licking up my throat.
"And there's the Beau I know." Zach follows, reaching into the fridge after me and taking a cold bottle - the last remaining item in there. "Hey man," He takes a long chug, the plastic crackling between us awkwardly. "I think it's really great you're sober and everything. Good for you."
"Thanks." I try for positivity, offering a tight lipped half smile and brushing his hand from my shoulder. Hearing Dr. Dex in the back of my mind like some inner voice of reason, I sigh an apology. "Sorry, by the way. For all the shit I did before."
"Hey, man. What's done is done. Let's just make this new shit worth it, yeah?" Zach takes another drink before gently placing his empty bottle on a teetering stack of trash.
I nod, twisting the bottle cap between my fingers, wishing Emma felt the same way. I guess being ruined professionally is different than what I did to her. Again and again. But still.
My phone rings suddenly and I immediately recognize the number from the rehab facility. I look up at Zach and he shrugs me off.
"I'm gonna get going. I'll see you soon," He waves as he lets himself out. "I'm stoked you're with us, man. I really am."
Brows crinkled together in confusion - why Zach still has faith in me, I don't think I'll ever understand, even if I am a guitar god - I offer a lame wave before hitting accept.
"Yeah?"
"They said you called." Parker's voice is flat and lifeless on the other end, nothing like the kid who used to snicker with me about Mel's Bible study.
"I did." Days ago.
After things with Emma and a week or so of pondering how I could've handled the Zoey stuff better, I decided to face another problem head on. I should've been there for Parker some how. I wasn't, but that doesn't mean I can't be now.
"Yeah, well." He grunts flippantly. "What do you want?"
I take the phone from my ear, staring at the screen in disbelief. What the fuck happened to the kid always up my ass?
"To check in." I worry that I sound like a concerned girlfriend, nagging even, but I force the words from my mouth. "Make sure you're good."
Parker's laugh is abrupt and joyless, bordering on sarcastic. "Lucky me - Beau Lewis wants to check in. What? Did you get bored with that girl of yours or something?"
I grind my teeth together, clenching my fist tightly against the counter top. He's in a bad place, I try to remind myself. Just like I was.
"Listen, kid-"
"Oh great, here we go." Parker exhales arrogantly but I ignore him. If he was here, I'd be fighting the urge to smack the smugness right out of him.
"You let me know if you need anything." I say instead, meaning every word.
"What could I possibly need from you?" His retort is immediate, as I knew it would be. Don't I always have some clever shit to deflect with?
Pressing my fingers into my eyes, I shake my head and try to remain calm. "Don't know. If you ever figure it out, though, you'll know who to call."
"Yeah." Parker's voice falters a little and for a second, I think he might be softening. But his next words are even more snide than the rest. "I wouldn't hold your breath."
Before I can argue, the line is dead.
***
"You don't think that was rude?" I sigh, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee Emma poured for me before I told her about Zach and Parker.
"Oh," Emma chuckles, brows raised as she sips from her mug. "It was rude, definitely. I just know someone who's the exact same way."
I smirk knowingly at the comment, running a finger along the rim of my cup.
Since we argued last week about Zoey, Emma and I have been on good terms. Surprisingly, we talk almost every other day and although the days when we don't sting more than I'll admit, I'm grateful for the ones when we do. She hasn't brought Zoey up again, which is confusing, but so far, she doesn't seem to hate me.
No sex again either, and also no talk of us ever getting back together, but hey, I see why she was mad. I probably would have been, too.
But here we are at Nadine's coffee shop, munching on muffins and sipping coffee anyways.
Progress. I think that's what Dex would call it.
Tilting my head back and ignoring the stares from the young girls always at the cafe, I reluctantly agree with her.
"You're right. Little asshole," I curse Parker out loud before shaking my head and chuckling to myself. "I'm an asshole."
"That's a discussion for another time." Emma smiles sweetly, pulling her long hair into a bun at the top of her head. "Try to go easy on Parker, you know? He's going through some things. You get that."
I pick at my nail polish angrily, my frustration with the kid building again. Perhaps sensing my irritation, Emma places a long hand over mine, eyeing me intently.
"Just be patient with him. He needs it."
I try not to dwell on how the comment seems more loaded than intended, not letting my hope get the better of me again. Before I can formulate my thoughts, Nadine approaches our table, addressing Emma first.
"Need anything else, Miss Emma?" She asks, in that slightly protective way she has whenever I'm around. Like Emma needs saving from me. When Emma declines, Nadine slowly looks to me. Pushing a tight curl from her face, she murmurs, "What about you, Beau?"
I shake my head, hating that this woman probably knows more about me than I'd like. I'll hand it to her though, for as much as she must hate me, she never treats me like it.
We thank her for our breakfast and make our way to my car so that I can bring Emma back to her condo.
"I haven't seen your new place," Emma notes, rolling down the window and hanging an arm out of it, catching air between her fingers.
"Be happy about that." I sigh, almost blushing at the thought of Emma in that dump.
No, I won't be bringing her there. Not even if she begs me to. Not even if she begs me to for sex.
Okay, well. Maybe then. But she'd definitely need a blindfold.
On second thought...
I laugh to myself, shaking the image from my head before I get too ramped up, and turn the radio to a station I know she likes. It's one that plays whatever is popular at the moment. As she hums along to a song I don't know, I let myself wonder how I'll ever go about showing her that I can be the man she needs me to be.
In comfortable quiet, we finally arrive to her complex and I turn off the ignition to walk her to the door.
Trailing behind her, I check my phone and see a message from Zoey, distracting me so that I almost walk right into Emma's back.
"Woah," I laugh, before peering over her head to her front steps at whatever caused her to stop dead in her tracks.
Atop of the welcome mat lays a huge bouquet of ruby red roses, probably a couple dozen, wrapped in vibrant white tissue paper.
"Got a secret admirer, Em?" I resist the urge to grab the bouquet myself, searching for a note and any indication of who would send my girl flowers. Dickhead beat me to it.
"Oh come on, Beau. This is getting to be too much," She sighs, turning to me with a little frown on her full lips.
"What're you talking about?" I mumble, shoving my phone in my back pocket to deal with later.
"The roses, the notes, you know? I can't accept it." Emma grabs the bouquet and stuffs it in my arms, unlocking her front door and pushing her way through.
"What're you talking about?" I raise my brows at her, shifting the roses awkwardly in my hands. "I haven't sent you anything."
Although I should have. Dammit. I curse whoever thought of it first another time. Her coworker, his stupid, happy smile and his dumb, ironed button-up shirts, nags at me.
Let it go, Beau.
Turning slowly once she's inside, Emma grabs the flowers from me, face crumbling in confusion. "Then who...?"
As she unfolds the note, I feel a mirroring frown grow on my face, an odd, out-of-place feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Is it Adam?" I ask, failing at neutrality yet again. My eyes narrow in jealousy but thankfully she's too preoccupied to notice.
"Adam doesn't know I'm pregnant. I never told him..." Her voice trails off, as she finally gets the envelope open.
What does her being pregnant have to do with anything?
Suddenly my palms are sweaty and the hairs on the back of my neck are sticking straight up.
What does this have to do with our baby?
I watch her intently, anxious energy coursing through me. Shock is plastered all over her expression as the color drains from her face, her eyes wide on mine. "Is this a joke?"
Heart hammering in my chest at the fear in her eyes, I snatch the note from her fingers, frantically scrambling to make out the words.
Cheers! Happy couple means happy baby.
I reread the words again and again, confusion muddling them together in my brain. While nonthreatening in themselves, I realize after a couple of tries, the note feels wrong, somehow.
"Who else knows?" I ask, head swiveling around to scout the neighborhood for anyone suspicious. There's probably a rational explanation - a friend or someone trying to be cute. A neighbor, maybe?
"No one," Emma mumbles, chewing her bottom lip nervously. "Nadine. But she wouldn't do this."
After a minute of staring wordlessly at the paper, I look to Emma, trying to decide the best course of action.
I've been known to overreact, I know. But it's weird... right?
"Maybe it's no big deal." She shrugs and I can tell that she's trying to keep her composure, more scared than she'll let on. Her dark eyes fall to her shoes, fingers nervously picking at her shirt.
"No." I shake my head, stuffing the note into my pocket. "Come on, we're going to my place after all."
Thanks for reading lovelies! Dun dun duh!
Where are the roses coming from?
Love some good ole Beau pov!
Who's your favorite Closer to You series character?! Least fave?!