"Beau, right there."
My stern voice amuses him more than it gets him to listen to me. I point to the open overnight bag perched on top of his bed. My clothes for tomorrow morning and later on tonight are already packed and have been for about half an hour. As for him, he's been too busy occupying himself with the 'duteous' task of distracting me to pack for himself. That leaves it up to me to keep him on track if we want to make it to the hotel on time.
My guess is that he's purposely dragging this out under the impression that if he makes us late enough, we won't end up going. A little over a week ago, Mariella asked him to attend this charity ball a business associate of theirs is hosting in Anaheim. She more or less pulled him into it as a consequence for getting suspended which is reasonable to a fault. She said I was more than welcome to come along, but Beau never mentioned all of this to me until yesterday. Meaning he sat on this for a week without giving me so much as a heads up because being the stubborn little shit he is thought he may be able to get out of it. News flash, baby...
I've tried asking him countless times why he's so opposed to these gatherings. All I'm able to get out of him is that they're stuffy and boring, filled to the brim with rich people who are willing to throw their money at anything that makes them feel good. Hence the 'charity' part of it all. There'll be an auction taking place where all the proceeds go to a Children's hospital in L.A. which I thought was really kind until Beau told me the only reason these banquets take place is so that business associates could mingle about talking about..well, business. It's, for the most part, one elaborate sham for business deals to be made and connections to be formed. Money's a part of it, but not in the way I thought it was.
Still, I tried to convince him to make the most of it. I won't be forcing him to mingle and socialize with everyone else. It's being hosted at an extravagant hotel venue so we can go up to our room whenever we please after the food is served. I was very strict on that part. I didn't want to go to some fancy banquet only to end up eating room service that I have to wait up to an hour for. It's silly and I figured as long as we give our donation to whatever raffle it is that they're playing and participate during dinner, we can do whatever the hell we want for the rest of the night.
However, Beau is so stubborn, he refuses to compromise. We're going, even I have to drag him out of this room by his ear. If he wants to act like a petulant toddler all night he will be treated as such.
He stomps over to me with nothing on but the pants he's wearing for tonight. That's a start at least. "And what makes you think I'm going to need pajamas for the night?" he asks while attempting to snake his arms around my torso. I know better than to fall for that trick again, as it caused me to be pinned down against the mattress we're standing over by his ginormous body. Rather, I take his hands before they can grasp my hips and hold them down to his sides.
With this attitude, he's not going to be getting anything from me tonight. "Just be decent for once and pack a pair of pajamas, in case of an emergency," I grumble. I begin to trudge away into his closet to fish out a pair of sweatpants and an extra white tank top. He tries to make a leap for me again, which only makes him stumble over his big feet and earns him the finger.
"What emergency, Jo?" he huffs. Fuck, is he keen on fighting me on just about every angle thing today.
Pushing his folded clothes into his chest, reciprocating the same difficult attitude he's presenting to me, I mutter sarcastically, "If somebody lights the fucking building on fire and we have to evacuate I don't want you running around out there naked, got that?" Dramatic he wants to act, overdramatic he shall receive.
"Don't be so overdramatic." It's as if he can read my mind, I swear. He throws his clothes carelessly into the overnight bag, again leaving it to me to tidy it up so that all of our stuff fits in there neatly. Ass.
Since he hasn't proved himself to be very useful, I also move past him back into his wardrobe to pull out some light blue jeans and an even darker blue shirt. Since he wants me to pick out his shit, I'm not doing anything that'll entertain this in the slightest.
I accidentally bump his shoulder while I'm moving back to the foot of the bed. Too caught up in my aggravated state to be paying attention. I mutter a quick 'sorry', but deep down, I have this gut feeling that I don't really mean it. That's only a fraction of what he's been making me put up with today. All day. It was fine to an extent a few hours ago when we went out to eat lunch but ever since we got back, he's just been more and more irritable, giving me no explanation why.
I thought he heard me, but it turns out to be quite the opposite as I find myself being yanked back to him with a steady grip on my arm. "What is with you today?" he has the audacity to ask me.
Scoffing, I tear myself right out of his grasp and place his things in our bag. "What is with me? Right because nothing you do is ever your fault," I laugh sarcastically. I have to get ready, I shouldn't be fighting with him like this. I get it, he's upset about having to go to this thing, but it's hard for me to wrap my head around what the big deal is if he won't talk to me about it.
"Jo, you're being uptight, come here," he beckons me closer to him, as if my indignance doesn't matter to him in the slightest. Putting my hands on his forearms stops him from pulling me in any closer than half my arm's length. "Fine," he drops his hands in anguish, "go get ready, since you're so fucking pushy about going to this bullshit."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, fed up with him but knowing better than to listen to him and walk away. That's what he wants. He wants to push me away far enough so that I'll leave him alone because that's how he thinks he'll cope with his emotions best. I know him. And I know that feeling all too well. I can't leave him by himself when he's like this, no matter how annoyed with him I am. "I already said I'll make this as comfortable for you as possible. You heard your mom, she's not backing down on this and she's made it seem like she's really excited to have you there. We'll only be there two hours tops, I swear," I try to appeal to him for the fifth time in the last hour. He begrudgingly refuses, again and again. But there's something different about his refusal this time. Something that'll give me insight as to why he's fighting me so hard on the topic.
His eyes fall from mine, down to where the hem of his t-shirt falls on me. His eyes linger up, taking in the way it looks, as if he's trying to put up a distraction for himself. "My mom isn't the fucking problem," he hisses through his tensely clenched teeth.
Instantly, my features soften from their intense glare. "What is it then, Beau?" All I'm met with is chilling silence. "Love, I want to help you and I can't do that if you're not telling me what's wrong," I say whilst I timidly caress his hand gently in hope that it'll soothe him.
He lets out a long tired sigh. This time around, I do let him pull me closer to his frame. I let him hold me as he elaborates quietly under his breath, "It's my dad. He always comes to these events to make us look like one big happy family and every time I'm forced to put on that fucking disguise. It's not a problem, as long as I'm keeping my mouth shut and shaking hands with his buddies it's all fine. But now I have you. And it's not until he saw that that he decided to stir the pot a little."
I furrow my brows in confusion. "What do you mean? Does he not like me?" I ask with a shake tone of fret. Mason and I never really had any worthwhile conversations. Mariella and I have a friendly companionship, she sees me as her second daughter as my parents see Sophie as their third. We became friendlier after she found out about me and her son. She was the first one to know after all. Before I even knew who Mason really was, I did think he was a very absent father. He was never really around unless he absolutely had to be. Yet I had the assumption that he was very work-driven like my parents. I mean he's a CEO, I'm sure a lot of responsibilities fall onto his plate. Ever since finding out about how he tormented his family for years, I could no longer be indifferent to him. He is the trauma my best friend hides with smiles and an airy attitude. He is the reason for all of the demons that live in my boyfriend's mind. He's the reason for all their pain and suffering. I'm glad he stays away.
Not enough though. Clearly. Since he still has a hold on whatever's plaguing Beau's mind. "He doesn't like anybody, baby. Not even himself," Beau spits out in pure spite. I hate the fact that the mere thought of his dad gets him so riled up. I can't blame him for it, but I always wish that I could take those harsh memories away from him so when he talks about his dad he doesn't have so much anger in him. Hearing him sound as such makes me want to kick Mason's ass myself for giving Beau a reason to be eternally angry. "He doesn't like that we're together. Like hell I'll listen to whatever the fuck he says, but it's tonight that's got me worried. We'll be on a two hour car ride with him and he has no goddamn filter. If he says some shit to you, I won't be able to contain my anger and...fuck...I never want you to see that side of me ever again," he lays it all out on the table for me, helping me to assess the situation clearly. And I understand. Not fully, but it helps me see things from a perspective he was seeing through.
I try to lift my head from his chest to get a glimpse of him. I'm stopped by his hand gently pushing me back down. "No, stay with me," he murmurs and I do just that, hoping that it'll help him talk to me.
"Okay," I whisper, "I mean, if that's the case, we won't go. But I want you to know I can handle myself, you shouldn't have to fight all of my battles. If Mason talks crap about me I've got a whole list of things I've been wanting to say to that old fucker for months now," I laugh wryly. His shoulders shudder a bit, letting me know he's just returned the favor.
"We'll go. You're probably right, my mom's not going to let this slide," he caves finally. His arms tighten their grip around my waist, holding me steady for a bear hug that squeezes the air out of me. For a split second he pulls me off the ground and suspends me in the air while I pat his bicep to let me go. He places me down on the ground again and kisses me softly before letting me go. "Just had to do that," he grins, pinching my ass to make me yelp.
"Watch it," I warn, placing his hand on my waist again, "How about we distract ourselves on the way there? We could listen to music, eat a few snacks⎯"
"Fuck around..." he interrupts me snidely. I shake my head, already knowing the dirty shit he's referring to. We've had our fair share of nasty escapades from time to time, but doing shit in the back of a car with his family being able to turn around and see us at any given moment is totally off-limits.
"We can occupy ourselves by keeping it strictly PG," I correct him, "And we can leave the venue right after dinner. What we'll do for the rest of the night...who knows?" I shrug innocently, he doesn't buy it. Before I can protest, he backs me into the foot of the back and tackles me onto the mattress. That's what I get for letting him get his hands on me.
His mouth immediately latches onto my neck and I can't help the sigh that leaves my parted lips. "I have a few ideas," he mumbles into the arch of my neck and collarbone. His hands remain on my hips to keep me pinned down and despite knowing that I should have been getting ready by now, I entertain his antics cause I can. I take his hands off my hips and guide them above my head, so he's no longer pretentious holding me down and instead putting those hands to good use.
"Hm," I exhale as I bite my lip to not let any pleasurable sounds slip through and he works his way up and down my neck. "You're going to make me late," I manage to groan as a reminder to both him and myself that we're on a strict time frame. At just about any minute now, Sophie's gonna⎯
Right on cue, Sophie barges in with a loud thud as the heavy door hits the door stop. "I need your horny asses up and getting ready now," she says, showing off the time on her phone, "Why is it that I'm younger than both of you and I still manage to be more responsible than the two of you combined?" She shakes her head and clicks her tongue while I slide out from underBeau to get to her quickly. Beau does the exact opposite. Instead he'd rather face Sophie's wrath and roll over onto his back in a clear relaxed position. I guess he can get away with more than I can. I still have a full face of makeup and hair to do in less than two hours meanwhile all he has to busy himself with is his hair and getting some clothes on.
"A knock would have been nice," he grumbles, earning a glare from both me and Sophie. Mine is for his own good. If Sophie's irritable, it's best he shut up now.
She grabs my wrist with one hand and the door handle with another. "Locking the door would have been nicer," she says pointedly. Yeah, we do have an extremely bad habit of not doing that. Then again, I wasn't planning on being caught in compromising positions in the times that we've been caught. They were all honest mistakes really. Honest mistakes that have gotten us in far more trouble than what was necessary, but accidents nonetheless.
"We could have been fucking and you just barge in here like you own the goddamn place." Beau doesn't stop, does he? I sharply move my hand over my neck, signaling for him to cut it out. Ignoring my advice, he shoots me a cheeky wink as if he wasn't giving Sophie a shit ton of attitude right beforehand.
She shoots him a sarcastically forced smile. "Been there. Done that. In case you've forgotten," she acknowledges both him and me when she recalls that. Oh the things I would give to turn back time and prevent that all from happening so at least I won't have to be reminded of it even to this day. The recollection of it alone brings back all the feelings of embarrassment and my wanting to crawl into a dark hole and die.
With that final blow, she shuts the door and starts to drag me down the hallways to the same room we got ready the night of the winter formal. It looks a lot less hectic, even though there were only four of us in there at the time. I was fine having to do my own makeup, it's a hassle but it's my norm. But Sophie insisted on having it done with her since it would be 'her treat'. My hair I'll hop at just about anyone willing to do it for me. It's a struggle from going from point A to point B, my hair is naturally wavy and frizzy so I have to straighten it before I curl it just to make it manageable. Plus when I do it, it never looks nearly as flawless when a hairstylist does it. Seriously, what kind of drugs are in those hair products? At least that'd explain why they're so damn hard to find.
I had Sophie send off the hair and makeup that I wanted done for tonight. A minimal eyeshadow look with a bold red lip that compliments my dress. Also a part of me just wants to see Beau drool at the sight of it. He's always had a thing for my lips, so I figured why not spice them up a bit? As for my hair, I decided on a simple yet elegant bun, only because I didn't want my hair getting in the way.
The moment we walk in, we're both poured a glass of champagne. I guess it doesn't really matter what our ages are, if alcohol's requested then it's brought to us without a moment's notice. I still have yet to get used to this lavish lifestyle. Hell, I've experienced it for eight months now and it still feels incredibly foreign to me. If I haven't gotten used to this treatment by now, I don't think I ever will.
All the hot tools are plugged in to let the girls get started on our hair. Sophie and I sit together side by side so she's able to show me a picture of the looks she's going for. Hers is far more elaborate than mine, but it's still beautiful. It's gonna fit her hair perfectly, her platinum blonde looks especially good when it's down and shining under the lights. The volume that's soon to be in her hair gives off an old-Hollywood vibe. Like a Marilyn Monroe of sorts. When she reveals to me her makeup look, a dramatic cat eye with a burgundy lip, I can already tell she's going to look stunning.
"That's gorgeous," I gush genuinely, peering at her through the mirror so I don't move my head too much.
"Oh, wait 'til you see my dress!" she squeals, "I spent days looking for it, I swear, but once I saw it and I tried it on I was like..." She trails off suddenly. Her eyes fall upon my champagne glass sitting on the counter in front of me. My untouched champagne glass.
Crap.
"You're not gonna drink that?" she asks in confusion. I haven't been very good at convincing, well, anyone really that I can be around alcohol without drinking it. I would have taken at least a sip of champagne by now, she knows that. I've made quite a colorful reputation for myself that raises suspicion every time I'm acting against it. But unlike last time I can't just say 'fuck it' and down the first shot I see. Not tonight.
I shake my head. "Nope, I'm not doing any of that tonight, Merc," I say with a heavy sigh. This isn't for me anymore or at least not for the time being.
"Did you and Beau make a stupid deal again?" she asks with obviously no regard for the other women in the room. They probably wouldn't even blab about it to anyone anyways. None of them know anything about me, as far as they know I'm just another one of their jobs to do.
I can't lie to her. I've done far too much of that in the last three months. Reverting back to that only to have the truth come out because that's always what ends up happening will hurt our friendship again. There's only so many times I can betray her trust before it gets too much for her and she gives up on me.
The same goes with Beau. I can't continue to hide this from him. I tell him to tell me everything that's on my mind, I can't intentionally keep this from him and expect him to give me the uttermost truth when I ask for it. He's just as much a part of this as I am. I just haven't worked up the courage to tell him about my dilemma just yet. Come to think of it, I've denied it to myself as well. This dilemma of mine was forced to the back burner so I wouldn't have to think about the mess my own stupidity created.
"No," I answer as nonchalantly as possible, but my nervously bouncing knee gives me away in a heartbeat.
"Jo, look at me," she requests, placing her hand over mine and giving my fingers a light squeeze. "Look at me." I flicker my gaze up to meet hers in the mirror ahead of us. My hand gives hers the same reassuring squeeze, but it doesn't have the same effect seeing as I'm hiding something and she's not. She can see right through me so easily, it's pathetic. "Don't you dare start lying to me," she warns.
"Soph" I exhale, no longer able to look at her so boldly, "I can't drink."
It's selfish of me to hope she puts two and two together without me having to say much else. I haven't even got the guts to admit it to myself. It's almost like I need her to tell me so it can become an easier pill to swallow. That's exactly what I need. I can't face the truth of my responsibility all on my own.
"Did Beau tell you something? I swear to god, if he made you make another stupid promise⎯"
"Sophie," I interrupt her with a sharp tone that halts her words almost immediately. "It's not like time. He doesn't know that I can not drink." I drill the fact into her skull, or at least attempt to. Nothing is confirmed, for all I know I could be overreacting, which I'm praying is the case. But I don't want to be taking risks. I've taken enough of those.
Reluctantly, I lock eyes with her again. Puzzled is her expression, her eyes narrowed with it. I hope my dire look will help guide her to the truth I'm trying to get at. The truth I haven't been brave enough to face. I was brave enough to take the risk, but too scared to take the consequences. Classic me. On top of that, I'm making it worse by using her to help me face what's really happening. Another predictable move of mine. I nod my head ever so slightly and it's somehow that subtle motion that makes her eyes go wide with realization.
"Jo," she sighs, disappointment dripping from her tone. Her eyes leave mine to do a scan of the two other women in the room who've remained silent this entire time. One of them has one of her earbuds in, but I doubt she isn't able to hear our conversation. Still they go about their job, pretending they don't hear a thing. She looks at me again, saying, "you think you're pregnant?"
That's it. Right there. The term I've been trying to avoid since I missed my period over a week ago. My cycle is almost always regular. There's never been a time, or at least that I can remember, that I've gone nearly five weeks now without a period. Sure, my days have been off track a few times, my period will decide to show up two or three days later than it's supposed to, but not eight. It's only been two weeks since the party. I wanted so badly to brush it off as having nothing to do with being pregnant, but as of late, it hasn't been looking good in my favor.
And I have no one to blame but myself. It was my idea to have sex without a condom. It was my carelessness that led to me missing the window of time I could have taken a plan B. It's my fear that prevents me from telling Beau, even though he should have been the very first to know. I'm knee-deep in stress, from this, my classes, our suspensions that just recently let up, my family. All of it has been a rapid build that I can't seem to get a grip over. What stellar timing for this, am I right?
"Why?" she asks, her voice bringing me back into reality.
I shake my head, silently. My fingers occupy themselves with the black hair tie around my wrist. Fidgeting around with the thing to avoid her eyes. "I haven't had a period," I mutter. My voice is quiet and muffled with guilt. I just started to repair things with everyone in my life. Why did I have to go and fuck it all up? It's because it's what I do. No matter how hard I try to let things go according to plan, strain myself to make everybody in my life happy, put on a facade so that everyone isn't forced to concern themselves with my problems, it's never enough. I always manage to fuck something up.
My mistakes affect everyone. First it'll be Sophie. Then it'll go to Beau. Then Kat. It never ends, the butterfly effect. It'll keep going and going, the ball will continue to roll, all from one night I decided to be spontaneous. Being tipsy was definitely a part of it, but there's still no excuse. "Are you sure you're not just off? You can't automatically come to that conclusion," she points out, on the other hand she doesn't know that all the signs are pointing to a hard yes. I would love to believe her, for my sake and for hers, but I can't because I'm the only one that knows the full story. I know better than to follow false hope, again.
"I've never missed a period," I answer just above an inaudible whisper. Being that I can't just move my head down when I feel like it, I'm forced to look straight ahead into my own distant eyes. Distant from reality and my mind tumbles down a dark hole. I'm not ready to handle something like this. I'm barely even able to take care of myself, how the fuck am I supposed to raise someone else? A baby. A human that's going to grow with the knowledge that they were never planned. I have to get myself together and I can't do that with the whole new stress of a pregnancy at my age. So I'm praying to anyone who'll listen that this is only a scare. A lesson the universe is trying to teach me. Yeah, I got that lesson. Don't fuck without protection.
"Hey," she soothes, "don't worry yourself about it, okay? Not until you actually start feeling more symptoms. It could be stress, it could just be an irregular cycle, don't worry about it until you know for sure. Believe me, girl, I'm talking from experience. I've had two scares, neither of them were easy to blow off as nothing, but when I went to the doctor they just said it was a mix of stress and losing a lot of weight in a short amount of time so it fucked with my system. Missing a period does not mean you're pregnant." She tries her best at settling my mind, but I can't help but jump to the worst case scenario. It's better to be prepared for the worst anyway.
I nod, "It makes sense when you say it. My mind keeps reverting back to the possibility that I could be pregnant. And the mere possibility of it happening scares the crap out of me." My shoulders shudder. My light fidgeting turns feverish, desperate to get my mind onto something else that isn't the chance that there's a fetus in my body at this very moment. I mean I've thought about it and talked about it, but damn I didn't mean to manifest the thing.
"And Beau doesn't know," she presumes from my earlier comment.
"Yeah," I say only because I can't nod since my head movement is restricted, "I want to tell him, but I also don't want to make him panic."
"No, you need to tell him," she reasons. What a convenient time for her to choose to be righteous? As if she wasn't encouraging me to lie to him the night of the party. The night this endless bullshit began. "There's a lot of things you can hide from him but thinking you're pregnant with his kid isn't one of them," she says and I fight every instinct to smack her somehow for sounding so painfully right.
"When you put it like that..." I trail off sheepishly.
"I know I'm right, you don't have to thank me," she laughs, attempting to brighten the damper mood, "but you definitely should at least talk to him. It doesn't have to be today, but the sooner the better."
"Thanks anyway," I chuckle, feeling a tad bit alleviated since getting that weight off my chest.
"If you don't mind my nosey ass asking, how long has this been on your mind?" She raises the champagne flute to her lips, taking a much-needed drink. I feel for her, but it'd be even more outright audacious for me to take a drink after dumping all of that on her.
"We've always used protection, every time. But the night of Adelaide's party was just a lot, for both of us. We fought because of the drinking thing, which I told you would happen."
A small smirk tugs on the upper right corner of Sophie's lips. "And you went and solved that with sex? You fucking animals, I swear," she laughs to herself. I purposely avoid the gazes of the others in the room. I'm sure they've heard far worse thing in their field of work, but it's the fact that we're talking about my sex life in front of them that makes my stomach feel queasy.
"Let's talk about you for a second, shall we?" I question, lifting a brow towards our reflection in the mirror.
"There's nothing to talk about," she shrugs, mindlessly swirling the pink bubbly liquid inside of her glass, "My life isn't as hectic as yours these days."
I scoff, already knowing her better than to believe the appearance of offhandedness. Her and Sean have been long done, leaving her to do whatever, or whoever, she wants. I doubt she hasn't had a fling or two in the course of the last month and a half that they've been split. "Now that's got to be a lie. Since when have we become each other?" I chuckle lowly. I guess after a while you rub off on another person. In this case, Sophie gave me a social life while I gave her an anchor to her madness. Both go hand in hand, no matter which role we play.
"Really, I'm being serious," she laughs, "I've been trying to focus more on myself lately, you know? Ever since Sean, I've been kinda laying low, doing me. Finding my inner peace in the absence of sex," she kindly sighs. Her hands prop themselves up on the arm rests, palms up, replicating the peaceful quietude she's supposedly got in her head. To make a point, she breathes deeply and allows her eyes to flutter shut, appearing to be meditating.
The random spurts of thoughts that come up in her mind make it nearly impossible for her to tranquilly sit anywhere for long. I knock her hand with my own, both of us bursting into a fit of laughter. When mine subsides, I observe, "So what do you hope to get out of all this soul searching? Better grades?"
This time she reaches her arm out to smack me harder than I did to her. I harshly suck in an over exaggerated breath and hold my upper arm as if she'd just popped my shoulder out of place. "No, you bitch," she says as a term of endearment, "I honestly have no clue. All I'm doing is taking a break from it all, you know the hookups and everything. The whole problem with Sean was that I couldn't connect. I mean the sex was great don't get me wrong, but afterward it was just like," she lifts her hands and drops them back down to her lap, signifying defeat, "'Okay, what's next?' Most of the time we'd just fall asleep afterward. The chemistry was there and my body was way into it, but everything else was just...dead."
I nod along, listening to her go on. "And what about him? Did Sean ever tell you anything about having feelings for you?"
She shakes her head somberly. "Nope, but you could just tell. I can't really describe it, he just did these things that made him stand out. I've been with people who made it obvious that our hookup would only be a one time thing and they kinda treated me as such. But with Sean, it was different. I knew he actually felt something for me even though he never said it and I tried for so long to make it work. I finally came to my senses and realized it was never going to happen and I'm only holding him back from a girl that's deserving of his kindness. So I let him go." I roll my lips between my teeth, allowing my eyes to sink into hers.
Her subdued green eyes are completely void of any emotion, indifferent she is to the story I've heard before. Her infatuation that leads her into situations like these. To her, people she hooks up with are like handbags. They look cute for the time being but they wear off eventually. That's exactly what happened with her and Sean. Around October she began to pay attention to this cute boy in her math class. He was smart, charismatic, kind to her, all of the things that she could want in a person. Like she said, he didn't treat her like any other lousy one night stand. He took time to get to know her outside of the bedroom. He never let her feel neglected or used. And she latched onto that fairly quickly. It hurt me that she's so accustomed to putting up with a certain kind of attitude that following meaningless sex. The ghosting pattern, the silent treatment, packing up and leaving without a second thought, Sophie's no stranger to that. But she can hold her own and she's definitely no saint either. Hence why she didn't let Sean stay around for long after she got what she came for, which was the sex. I'm sad that she can't find that connection during sex anymore, but what can I do about that? I can give her advice and be here for her but I can't rewire her brain.
"So you think by not having sex you're going to find connection in it again?" I inquire, getting a nod from her.
"Maybe not as often," she corrects me, "but I think I should try working on myself first before I go out there and start messing around again."
Grabbing her hand, I hold it consolingly. "Hey, I think you're pretty great," I smile.
"Well, I know you think I'm great and you're also biased as hell. Look at it like this. You kept Beau coming around since November. I chased Sean off in the matter of three months. It was long over before that though," she begins to compare what we have to what she's got. As if she has even a smidge of a clue what we had to go through to get to this distorted vision of us she has in her mind. If the deal that had led to more trouble than we bargained for never took place, Beau and I wouldn't have even had a conversation that wasn't where our voices were loud and our anger fuming. At least her 'relationship' with Sean had a normal start to it.
My gaze shifts back down into my lap. "It wasn't always this pretty, Sophie. You don't wanna chase after something like that," I say, dimming my voice to differ from what was once horsing around. Now it's serious. It's not that I don't wish for Sophie to find something similar to what I have. I wish for her to have something like it. All the bad parts aside, what me and Beau could have is perfection. In a world where there is no bad, we lift each other up and know how to communicate to one another. But this world is full of faults where every good thing, no matter how shiny it may seem, always has its dull areas somewhere in it. While we lift each other up, we tear each other down just as much. And while we know almost everything there is to know about each other, there's still little white lies we withhold from one another. Our communication isn't the best. We're a good couple, yet it's not one to strive to become.
Things could have gone south for us so fucking quickly. We were always trying to get across this rickety bridge where one of us, if not both, could have gone down at any moment. I don't wish that for Sophie. I love her with everything and that's why I would never entertain this fantasy of hers because it's rose-colored. She wasn't there for the uncovering of all his secrets and the extreme fight that ensued. She wasn't there to witness the fight that ended with me saying he was as good as dead to me. We've called each other countless harsh names. We've done horrible things to one another. Even though we seem great together, there were indefinitely times that we questioned it, if being together was worth all of the fights and torment we put each other through. We are not the blueprint she should follow.
"We've been horrible to each other sometimes," I admit as a reminder to her, "We love hard, but we fight harder. I'm not saying any relationship is easy, Merc. It's always going to have obstacles, as we always do in life. But no healthy relationship is going to drag you through hell and back numerous times." I don't want her to mistakenly go looking for a relationship like mine and have it not go as planned. Our relationship may be toxic, but it's not abusive. That's the evil counterpart to our situation and it could happen to her, happen to anyone that tries to follow our path in hopes that it'll turn out to be the good way we have it now. I don't think she'll fall into that kind of pattern, I sincerely hope she never does. But like I said, Sophie holds her own and she knows her way around the world way more than I do. She'll be able to spot the red flags early on because if there's anything that girl doesn't hate more than mismatched pajamas, it's being controlled. She's her own person and if the person she's with doesn't encourage that and instead tries to shove her in a box, she won't stand for it. However, even the people you don't think can fall into those relationships sometimes do and I can't be responsible if she ever does because she went out chasing an unrealistic fantasy.
"Since when the fuck are you so wise?" she chuckles. I look up to see her small yet clear smile she's been watching me with the entire time I've been on my ramble. I forced a subtle grin as a response. Deep down I hope she did take something out of that though. Just to at least get the picture perfect version of us out of her head is all I ask.
I shrug blamelessly, "No clue."
"Fine, I'll take your word for it. See this is why I'm on my new spiritual journey," she sighs deeply. In the meantime, she finishes her glass of champagne and politely asks for another, also asking for a water bottle for me while she's at it.
Thank god. All of the humidity in the room has made me parched. "Who knows?" I add, "Maybe after you're through with this spiritual awakening you'll be giving me advice as well." I thank the woman for my water and take a huge swig as soon as I twist the lid open. The water doesn't just look clear, it feels clear. I finish nearly half the bottle within two or three gulps. What kind of drugs are in this rich people water?
"Woah, calm down," she laughs to herself, setting her second glass down on the counter in front of her. "Besides, you don't need any advice from me, you're perfect in every way," she beams genuinely.
If only that were the truth.
Within the next hour, or maybe even a little more I've yet to be completely sure, my makeup and hair are done. I look like a completely different person, even though it's not such a drastic change. I told the lady doing my makeup to go light on the foundation because certain lighting makes me look cakey and I don't want to be looking like a raggedy mess by the end of the night. My low bun sits neatly above the nape of my neck, being held together with a few pins so it won't be a hassle to take off when the time comes. The thing I'm most excited about is the red lipstick. It turned out flawless and I did a couple of blot tests to make sure it wouldn't end up smeared everywhere, which it doesn't. Setting spray works miracles clearly. She gave me the tube of lipstick just to be safe though, for touch ups and all that. I have some makeup here in Beau's bathroom, but I don't want to fuck up the texture or the color of the lipstick I have on already so I just take it.
All that's left is my dress. And my undergarments. Which are all in Beau's room somewhere. I remember I left my dress hanging up in a bag in his closet so it wouldn't get wrinkled and so that the thousands of tiny glitters on it wouldn't get on his stuff. I just know they're going to be a bitch to get off of my skin when that dress comes off, but damn it is a really beautiful dress. Fighting with glitters won't be a problem I haven't dealt with before.
Sophie and I go our separate ways to get dressed and pull the entire look together. The only put I'm dreading is the heels. It's not walking in them that'll pose a problem, it's the fact that they're probably going to give me blisters by the end of the night. It's not like I can wear a bandaid on my ankle to prevent that because it'd be easily noticeable so I'll remain seated most of the night. Which isn't the problem since Beau doesn't seem too keen on walking around and mingling either. Besides, sitting down and listening to all the gossipy shit he has on almost everyone that'll be there is way more fun than pretending to get along with any of them.
When I step into his bedroom, I don't expect him to be right there, suited up and ready to go. What's amusing about the sight is the mean pout on his face which I'm assuming is there because of the white button up shirt concealed by what would otherwise be an all black outfit. His gaze immediately snaps up from his phone to meet mine when he hears the door swinging open. He's sitting on the couch, legs spread wide and his elbows propped on either one of his knees.
Oh the amount of shit I would give to ride that lap again.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts while I saunter over to him. While I try to keep things casual by standing over him, he's the one that lurches forward and yanks my body forward with both hands firmly gripping my ass. Letting out a close-mouthed yelp, I feel my legs being guided to part over his thighs and sit down right on him. I may as well make myself comfortable, even though I know we don't have much longer to be indulging in these kinds of frolics.
Beau reaches up to my face and brushes a strand of hair away from my forehead that was left there to frame my face. He tucks it behind my ear for the time being so he can gain full access to cup the entire side of my face in the palm of his hand. That simple action sends flutters swirling through my lungs and the pit of my stomach. "You're so pretty, baby," he coos up to me, puckering his full lips for a kiss that I eagerly give. I part my lips to give his tongue full consent to put pressure against mine. My heartbeat quickens innocently while we exchange this heated kiss. I feel his hands start to guide my hips across his lap; the movement brings me up and down, as if he were actually fucking me. I quietly moan into this kiss, allowing it to disappear into his throat.
I pull away with a light shake of my head. "We don't have the time for this," I breathily point out, still out of breath from the deep passion he just planted in me.
He pulls me closer to him, stopping my core directly on top of his semi-hard cock. While I'm too caught up in the flutters occurring where our groins meet, he starts to say, "All I need is five minutes with you." His hand moves up from the curve of my ass to the back of my neck, pulling me down so we meet each other's eyes head-on.
"We have a hotel room to ourselves tonight," I remind him, dotting a soft peck on the tip of his nose. "It's either you've got five minutes or all night," I toss out an ultimatum while I slowly begin to climb off his lap, already knowing what his answer is going to be.
"I want it all," he groans, allowing me to slip out of his grasp to get dressed. That's what I thought.
I laugh quietly to myself as I disappear into his closet. "You can't have it all in this world," I call out to him, ignoring the sounds of his footsteps coming closer and closer to where I'm standing.
Far faster than I can process, he whips me around and lifts me up by the backs of my thighs. I'm forced to center myself just above the bulge in his pants and wrap my arms around his neck for support. Using my back, he shoves the door closed and in turn, aggressively pins me between his body and the cold wood door. I slyly smile down at him, contrary to my previous denial, I want to know what he's got circling through that mind of his.
"I didn't give you what you wanted so you took it yourself. A real gentleman you are, Faulkner," I tease. Taking it a step further, I move closer so that our lips barely remain a sliver apart, but I don't let him feel the satisfaction of kissing me. Whenever he tries to move forward, I pull back, which frustrates him.
He takes out that frustration by deliberately rubbing his now hard cock against my throbbing clit, causing a gasp to break out of my throat. The sound brings a satisfied smirk to his lips and he does it again. "I never said I was a gentleman, Jordyn. Then again, this isn't very ladylike for you at all," he counters. The sound of his deep voice echoing through this small space causes my legs to wrap around his waist out of primal instinct. Proving his point exactly.
"Okay," I sigh, caving in to satisfy the desire already creating a mess on my inner thighs.
"Okay what?" he pushes, in both his words and his hips. He makes it nearly impossible for me to even think straight when I can feel his cock straining against my sensitive bundle of nerves. I dig my nails into the nape of his neck, wanting so badly for him to use those five minutes to his uttermost advantage.
My body clenches in desperation, but it isn't until he hears me beg that he's fulfilled. "Fuck me," I whine. Leaning forward to press my lips against his, I go wide eyed with shock as it's him who pulls away.
"Have some decency, baby," he warns as he lowers me to stand on the ground again. "Offer's revoked anyway," he shrugs indifferently while he nudges me aside to open the door as if nothing happened, "Have fun sitting in that for the night," he winks, motioning to my clenched thighs. He walks out, as if he didn't leave me in here wet and craving for him. What an ass.
I turn around, biting my lip. I can't believe he beat me at my own fucking game. I thought I was the one with the leverage, walking away from him like that, but he was quick to prove me wrong. I think of all the possible ways I can get back at him, starting with this dress that'll be leaving him with blue balls in about an hour. How's that for creating a mess between my thighs?
Taking the dress out of the bag, I whip myself around with the material hanging over my shoulder like a woman on a mission. Beau turns from the overnight bag sitting in the same place I'd left it to watch what I'm doing. With a guileful smirk, I toss the dress onto the couch and begin the strip. I have to get dressed, and this is a bedroom. Technically speaking, I'm not doing anything wrong. The shirt is the first thing to come off, which fairly amuses him because I'm not wearing a bra underneath. The next to go is my shorts and my underwear is quick to follow. His eyes loom over my body, every square inch of it, which is fine by me. He can look but he most certainly cannot touch.
Padding over to the bed where I left my bra and panties for the night, I notice that they're gone. "Oh?" he questions mock-innocently, "Looking for these?" He holds up the lace black push up bra and matching panties, setting them both out of my reach.
"Give 'em," I say in monotone. It's fucking cold without any clothes on. I just know he's thinking my nipples are hard because I'm turned on, that's why his eyes can't prevent themselves from glancing at my tits every other second. The reality is, I'm more freezing than I am horny so he should sincerely consider giving those back.
No, I think I've got a better idea.
He shakes his head as I expected he would so I let him off with a shrug. "Okay, be difficult." I blatantly ignore him and walk back over to my dress and start slipping it on my bare body. Glitter falls everywhere around me, but that's a problem he'll come to fix himself, I could care less. The last thing I do is pull up the thin straps up my arms. I pull them up extra slowly, ensuring he gets the full view of my bare chest while he still can because he's not going to see that for a few hours. And believe me, he takes in the sight brazenly. He doesn't try to hide the fact that he refuses to look me in the eye and only at my perky breasts until I conceal them in the black dress. The slit goes up high on my thigh, stopping a lot higher than halfway up my leg. I can feel the cold breeze hitting my pulsating core, the new sensation making me want to spread my legs and revel in it.
But he hasn't earned himself that yet.
Exhaling a sharp breath, he utters, "You can't go like that." I've struck a chord I see. His jealousy and possessiveness will be the death of him. But fuck does it make things hotter.
I hold the side of my dress to pull some of the excess fabric out of the way. Holding it like this causes the slit to adjust itself, baring just a little more of my inner thigh. It draws his eyes to my legs and it's quite amusing to say the least to watch him try to keep his eyes off my body. "Why not? Afraid someone's going to see something they shouldn't?" I ask, putting on a bold face, which is easier to do with the amount of confidence surging through my body.
He takes a step forward suddenly and wraps his hand around the back of my neck. I conceal the groan that threatens to slip past my lips to keep up the disguise that he's got me completely unaffected. But it really is pathetic how quickly my body responds to him, his touch sending waves of goosebumps and tingles all throughout my skin. "That and I don't want you showing off like the little whore you can be between the sheets. Now start behaving or I'll make certain that you won't be able to walk in the morning," he threatens. Interrupting me before I can even open my mouth to speak, he pulls out a lacy red pair of panties and shoves into my hand. "Wear these," he commands.
"Why?" I hold them up a bit higher to study them. I don't recognize them as anything I've worn or owned. I guess this must've been a part of the little shopping spree he went on last week. I still have yet to find out about all the stuff he picked up that day, but he's been applying it little by little. Hence the vibrator sitting in the bottom of my sock drawer.
"You'll see," he smugly grins. Not questioning it any further, I slide the red lace up my legs and adjust it over my hips so it sits discreetly hidden in the shiny black dress. His cryptic response makes me feel like there's more to it that he's not letting on but I'm not willing to cave into submission to ask so I let it go.
Gaining leverage once more, I sit on the edge of his bed and grab my heels. Spreading my legs to reveal a faint trace of the transparent lace covering me somewhat, I slip on one heel after the other. Occasionally I look up at him through my lashes, batting them up at him as if I have no clue exactly what it is I'm doing to him. I can play this game just as well as he can, all night even. Pushing each other, waiting for one of us to cave. We;re both too stubborn and too competitive to give in so soon, I can hardly tell how this is going to play out. By the salacious way he's looking at me already, I'm nearly sure it'll be him to give up first.
Shutting my thighs, I bring myself up to my feet with a tender hand on his bicep. The heels provide me some added height that I sneakily use to my advantage as we stand side by side, facing opposite directions. His features are unmoving, appearing to be numb to the power I hold over him. I only know that because I'm doing the very same. Ignoring my body's wants so that I can win the power struggle we're engaging in. "I can do this all night," I smirk, avoiding his gaze and looking ahead at the wall. "Can you?"
He merely answers with a chuckle. So smug, he is. Fuck, I can't wait until he under me, begging me to let him come. He won't be so arrogant then, will he? I begin to walk away, sliding my hand down to his so I can loosely hold our fingers together.
Out of my peripheral vision, I catch him on his phone, but I don't think anything of it. We keep walking to the door and it isn't until we're out in the hallway that I can feel a low vibration at the apex of my thighs. It builds and before I know it, I'm backing into him for support and biting my hand to keep my moans from slipping out.
Once he feels like I've gotten the hint, he lowers the vibrations, this time allowing me to see his phone screen. God, I can seriously fuck him up for this. "You're joking," I pant, barely able to form words as my clit throbs in desperation for more.
"Not in the slightest, darling," he says. I don't even have to turn to him, I can hear his smug tone of voice telling me he's awfully proud of himself. His fingertip grazes along the side of my neck. I have to fight against every instinct to not outwardly shiver, but beneath my skin there's flames that arise in the path his finger is trailing all the way down my arm.
"That's cheating, you asshole," I seethe between gritted teeth. I make an awful attempt at snatching the phone away from his hand, which only causes him to retaliate and activate the sewn in vibrator again. Like before, I cling to him for support and clamp my hand over my mouth to silence my groans. "Stop, stop, stop," I plead out of breath. While rapidly hitting his shoulder, I clench my thighs together in a nonworking effort to forbid myself from such a pleasure.
FInally listening to something I say, he lowers the intensity of the vibrations until they come to a gradual stop. As soon as I can move something other than my clenching inner walls, I smack his shoulder, hard. "No need to play rough," he chuckles, his amusement making me smack him even harder. That time he actually winces and rubs his shoulder.
"Watch when we get back to that fucking hotel room, I will fucking⎯"
He turns up the low vibrations again. Goddammit. "You'll what, hm?" he challenges me.
"You...asshole," I push out in one stifled breath.
Instead of letting me come down gradually as he'd done before, he stops the tingling between my thighs abruptly and tucks his phone into his back pocket. I let out an uncontrollably relieved sigh. "We gotta go," he smiles, "Have fun tonight, babe." In a condescending manner, he kisses me on the cheek and leads me down the hall. Have fun, he says. Sure he'll be having all out if. With the control of how much pleasure I get literally in the palm of his hand, I'm sure he'll amuse himself quite well. Me, on the other hand, I'm royally fucked.
a/n
Hey besties! As y'all know I will be switching back to the regular update schedule Tuesdays and Fridays so I can have time to write and edit and whatnot
Aside from that CAN WE TALK ABOUT JO'S FUCK UP!?!?!?! GIRLLL she really messed up this time this girl ughhh 😭
Im at a school event rn but I'll be lurking in the comments soon enough✨ love y'all stay safe babes 💞