Justin:
"So, Jenny, wait," I could hear Beth's voice faintly from where I laid across the sofa; head resting on the armrest of the comfortable furniture, causing me to avert my attention to the back of her figure. "X is equivalent to this entire equation?"
"Right," Jenny firmly answered, nodding once. "It's actually easier teaching you Math as compared to teaching the one behind me, I'm so glad."
"I'm not invisible, am I, Jenny?" I paused. "You should go back to your cage," I grumbled playfully, earning back a loud gasp from Beth. Cute Beth. She probably doesn't know that this was honestly what brought Jenny and I close as a teacher and a student.
"That was incredibly rude of you, Justin," Beth scolded me in an instant, flashing me her furrowed eyebrows as I let out a laugh. Yeah, she really wasn't aware. "You should really apologize to Jenny. Like right now."
Cracking a small laugh, Jenny began shaking her head as he eyed me, "Justin, she's a keeper, you got it?"
Woah, wait. What? "Jenny, you got it all wrong—"
"Uh—" Beth paused for a brief moment. "Why would you even look at him and say that? Ugh! This is frustrating! I need a witness protection program so that Justin can never be able to get near me and cause more misunderstandings with people around us."
"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" I lifted my eyebrows. "Excuse you, Beth Elle Livey."
"I hate when people use my full name," she abhored, spinning herself back around on the twirling chair, attempting bringing her attention back to her work.
Don't tease her, don't flirt with her, don't do no shit with her. —Scooter.
Sorry, man, I'm a rule breaker. It's going to happen eventually. I mean, look at her! How could one even resist flirting with her, damn. I'm unstoppable.
"Jenny, in exactly how long is she able to finish studying her brain out?" I questioned curiously, slapping the magazine in my hands to a close as I brought it to my chest. "She looks like she'd rather die than carry on studying."
There was a silence.
A silence that made me feel like bursting out laughing, but I'd managed to control myself in time as Jenny responded. Though, she indirectly responded to me, instead. I watched as Jenny placed a hand on Beth's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.
"I know," Jenny begun sympathetically, "Justin's been giving you a hard time, Beth." She ended her statement pointedly, throwing me one glance that only made me chuckle twice as hard.
"Just," Beth paused to draw a deep breath in, "just let me sit here and reflect upon all the mistakes I've done in the past, that led me up to Justin. Let me think about what I've once done that made me deserve this."
"Oh, come on. Don't deny the fact that I can be a nice guy, too?" I retorted defensively, trying not to scrunch my nose up—that would make me seem like a kid. I'm not a kid.
"Well, in any case, I'll just be in my bunk. Have a good night's sleep, kids!" Jenny erased the intensity floating around everyone and grabbed the opportunity to make her escape after a growl left my lips. She's always known the fact that I absolutely detested being referred to as a kid.
"Babe?" I called out after a moment, expecting a response, but nothing. "Beth, don't be mad at me. I didn't know you were so petty," the moment the last word left my mouth, was precisely the moment I felt my conscience drown in a pool of guilt.
I've done this once due to impulse, I can't let it happen again because of the same reason. I can't hurt her again.
"Beth," I wanted to rephrase myself, "I-I—"
But she cut me to it, once again.
Beth:
"You know, Justin, sometimes you could cut me some slack," I muttered back quietly, trying my hardest not to break down in front of him, "because I have a limit to everything either, you know?"
"Aw, look whose middle name's called Elle."
"Beth," he said again, the plea behind his voice getting to me but I refused to listen. I shuffled the papers on the desk before rising from the chair, turning around to face him, feeling my eyes clouding up with tears that were already threatening to fall.
"Sorry, babe, I don't think Elle is a pretty name."
"And yes, you don't know how petty I am," I harshly spat, "you don't even know me as well as you think you do."
"Beth Elle Livey, don't call me again or even try looking me up. Chances of you running into me fucking my actual girlfriend, again, is beyond a hundred percent."
Dragging my feet towards the door, I rushed out and dumped my study materials on the nearest table I could find before scurrying into the bathroom Justin and I shared. With a strong shove, I pushed the door open and slammed it loudly behind me, locking it swiftly with my fumbling, shaking fingers as I came face-to-face with my own reflection in the mirror.
Where was this coming from? This entire thing—the stupid fucking flashbacks. But that wasn't the only question: Why in the world am I even still bothered by that fateful event? It has been three years, three bloody years since it happened.
What happened?
Picture a young, carefree sophomore in high school dating one of the nicest popular seniors in school. Yes, nicest emphasized sarcastically, if you haven't noticed it for some reason.
Next, after dating for eight months straight, imagine how she felt when she received a text message on the date of their monthsary that simply went like: I'm dumping you. We're over, breaking up, in case you didn't understand my first 3 words.
She didn't think it was fair for him to break it off like that, considering he was also her first love. So when she turned up at his house after about a million phone calls and texts altogether, this was what she found: The love of her life, on top of another girl, completely nude, rocking violently back and forth, screaming profanities after profanities.
She witnessed the guy whom she thought loved her as much as she loved him, fucking another girl.
And it happened before her eyes.
Turned out, he knew that she would go looking for him and that's why he decided to fuck a girl while waiting. Stupid? I know. He wanted to tell her something oh so important, which was that he was never in love with her in the first place.
He only played nice guy to try to get into her pants but was unsuccessful, and thanks to the bet his friends placed on him, he had forced himself to be with her for a full eight months because he never backed down apparently.
And his last words before they never saw each other again? "Beth Elle Livey, don't call me again or even try looking me up. Chances of you running into me fucking my actual girlfriend, again, is beyond a hundred percent."
That girl was me.
Beth Elle Livey. This was why I never bothered to tell anyone my middle name. He—Blake made me hate it. He was my first love, but I guess I was wrong. So blinded by love I couldn't even comprehend soberness from being love drunk. I've always done everything the best I can just so I could distract myself away from the horrible memories and jumbled up emotions, but nothing ever worked.
I'm always stuck on this memory.
The only memory that I share with him and his girlfriend, that nobody else knows because it hurts me so bad that I just couldn't afford to tell it to anyone ever again. I wanted to forget it, hell, I wanted to burn it if I could. But could I? How could I erase something that's been etched to my mind?
Probably forever. Possibly forever.
I can't believe I almost allowed my guards to fall right to my feet when Justin was right in front of me. I want to trust him, and I do. But he has his own problems and even though I know he could genuinely care if he wanted, I just couldn't tell him how fucked up I actually am behind my façade.
It's not about the matter of me wanting to share it or not, it's that I just can't force myself to open up because I'm afraid I'd have to take another three or more years to get over the slightest bit of it.
Could I afford that?
No.
But no matter what, I had to. I have to. I need to move the fuck on whether I want to or not because that's the only way for me to be happier and slowly allow my real side to be visible to others again. No, not the vulnerable, unhappy Beth. . . But the stronger, happier Beth Livey.
And I must forget about everything because I really do want to stop picking fights with Justin. As stupid as this may sound, I actually hate quarreling with him for no relevant reason at all. I just don't think it makes sense, and it isn't fair to him.
I hate venting my pain on him.
Our first quarrel was mainly about my insecurities. And now, our second one, was about the pain I'd once received from a rough break up. What am I doing? To me? To him? To us, even though there's no us in our existences.
He's never done anything to hurt me this way, and it wasn't until now that it has finally dawned on me that I had always been the one hurting him.
He's supposed to be the arrogant player, hurting everyone around him; I'm supposed to be the humble person, caring for everyone around me—so why is this entire thing going the wrong way round?
I needed to stop, and right now.
Quietly unlocking the bathroom door, I stepped out slowly and sighed in slight relief when I realized I was the only one in the room. Justin didn't come in after me—and I'm glad. Because I really wasn't in the mood for any explanation at all.
And currently, I'm not even in the mood to do anything, other than sit and stare into space for a little while.
"Beth?" Allison's voice came out muffled from the other side of the door, surprising me a little bit. "Are you in there?"
"Yes!" I answered, failing at the attempt of being happy. "What's up?" I asked, the moment she pushed the door open, stepping inside.
"Just wanted to have a little chat," she warmly began, "about what happened between you and Justin. . . Are you feeling better?" Her question brought a little lump back to my throat, but after a couple seconds of trying to swallow it down, I managed to force out a smile.
"Yeah, I'm better," I paused. "Where's Justin. . .?"
I don't know if it was just me, but I could've swore that I saw surprise glistening in Allison's eyes. Straightening herself as she sat down next to me on the bed, she tugged a corner of her lower lip downwards before hissing lowly.
"Justin's out there," she reassured, seeing my slightly panicked face, "and, he usually doesn't do this to himself, but, he's beating himself down." And I could just hear her mentally carrying that sentence on with 'because of you.'
I knew what I had to do. I couldn't just play dumb, leave it at that and pretend what just happened had never happened. Not only is that utterly stupid, I wasn't brought up this way—to run away from my unresolved problems. That's just. . . not me.
Letting out a breath I didn't had been stuck in my lungs, I finally stringed up the words floating in my head. "Could you please call him in?"
"Definitely," Allison smiled widely. "And whatever happens, just know that I'm here if you want to talk about anything, okay?"
Talk about anything, yes, but this.
"Got it," I smiled briefly, though it never reached my eyes.
As she got up from the bed, I lowered my head and fiddled with my fingers while I waited for Justin's presence in the room with me. What I feel at the moment is just like watching the climax of a horror story. . . with the exception that I'm not experiencing that kind of fear, and most certainly not anticipation.
It just feels like. . . I can't breathe. And I don't have anymore courage, when in fact, all my life, I've grown up having it. And I feel so wrecked at the moment it's not even funny, and I feel so insecure, God, it's almost reaching the level of absurdity.
And I feel my nerves eating me up a little bit, by a little bit, by a little fucking bit. I hate this.
Why am I even feeling this way?
Are you fucking stupid? It's because you like Justin, you moronic fool.
I froze for one second.
I liked Justin. I like Justin. I like Justin. What in Jesus' name? Impossible; I can't, I shouldn't, I don't and I wouldn't dare.
Oh, my God. Why am I sharing a brain with someone as fucking stupid as you. It's possible. You can. You shouldn't—what the fuck does that even mean. You can, and you'd dare when you find out it's totally worth it.
"Beth. . ."
"Just shut up, for fuck's sake!" I complained, still oblivious to the surroundings. . . until the voice of someone ever so familiar rang in my ears, slowly and evidently, making me snap my head up at once, eyes shooting right through a pair of brown pools.
Oh, fuck. Don't mess it up again, Beth, don't you fucking dare.
I opened my mouth to apologize, but nothing came out. It's like all of a sudden, my voice had disappeared; gone; out of my larynx. I only had time to register the hurt in his eyes that lasted for about a second before I was facing someone that looked nonchalant once again.
It's like we're strangers, all over again. Oh, fuck.
"I'm sorry," I articulated, not bothering to look anywhere else anymore. I'm tired of that shit now. Truth. Now. "I'm sorry for being the bitch I am, I'm sorry for pissing you off with every chance I get, I'm sorry for being so damn irrelevant every time we have a quarrel. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say next, but I know you have a right to be mad at me and I understand that.
"And, before you say anything, I need to tell you that. . . Even though I may be a product of a lawyer and a doctor, it doesn't mean I'm completely healthy or perfect, or good, or rightful and all that stupid shit, because I'm not and I sure as hell know that. Believe it or not, I'm fucked up. . . And I'm not saying that you are, but I might just be more fucked up than you think, or the world thinks you are.
"I grew up in a great family, rich, desirable—and my parents are wonderful people, generous and genuine, but all my life, I didn't go to a private school or anything. So that means I obviously got through high school and made countless of mistakes with guys, and drugs, and everything that you should already know. And I got out of there, and I'm supposed to be happy, but I'm still burdened by something generally so small yet could be so big to me. . .
"I'm so self-conscious. . ." I looked away from his eyes because I couldn't carry on speaking without feeling ashamed. I stared at my unmoving fingers, pausing only to collect myself when I sensed my voice cracking soon. Feeling my heart fall to the pit of my stomach at the resentful memories flooding back again, I drew in a deep breath. "It's so fucking ridiculous. And that's why I have so many problems. Oh, and the last thing to this topic is that, I used to cut myself. It lasted for about 6 months at the start of senior year, and was severe, but thankfully no one knew about it. It's over.
"And I hate my middle name so much because. . ." I let out a humorless laugh. "God, this is going to sound so stupid! I hate it because I hate the way it sounds, especially when my ex-boyfriend said it. Every time I think of Elle, I could hear his sneer and his stupid fucking voice and his last words. So I never introduced myself to anyone with that name. I really, truly, detest it with all my heart."
Squeezing my eyes shut for one moment, I inhaled deeply before exhaling just to calm my nerves. "So, I've just told you a bunch of secrets, considering I've never, ever told anyone about these. I trust you, Justin," I slowly brought my eyes back up to his still empty-looking ones, "but like I'd said, I'm so much more fucked up than you are that I just want you to know the. . . good side of me.
"And the last thing that I'd like to clear up, is that I never meant all of the harsh words I told you in the past. Not today, not our first argument. I didn't mean them even if I'd said them with so much honesty behind them. That's the furthest I'd go at an argument."
There was a moment of silence between the both of us.
I didn't dare to make another noise, and neither did I dare to look up at him because I didn't want to 1) know how he was looking at me 2) break his train of thoughts and 3) think about what he might do or react after everything.
So while I waited for a response from him, I sighed, feeling how light my shoulders felt after telling him all these. I've bottled everything up for far too long now. . . And the only way to let Justin know that I'm sorry and that I trust him, was to do this.
I mean, I think it isn't the only way, but it was the only method that managed to reach my mind in time.
"I forgive you," Justin said after a while, looking like he was uncertain about how to behave around me now, "and I think I actually have more secrets than you, and should apologize for many things either, but I have to tell you the most important thing: I'm sorry for being an arrogant ass to you, like, almost all the time. And I'm sorry for saying things to you out of impulse. . . forgive me?"
"It's okay, and I forgive you, too." I laughed softly, weakly. "I'm going to sleep, are you?"
"Yeah, me either," he yawned, reaching for his shirt, swiftly pulling it over his head, "have you showered?"
"I showered before you because I had school, Justin," I chuckled. "Have you?"
"Nope," he immediately answered, crawling onto his side of the bed, causing me to cringe away in antipathy. My face apparently looked amusing because when he looked over at me, a huge grin grew across his face, letting a fit of laughter break out. "I'm kidding, baby, I probably smell better than you."
I pursed my lips in and rolled my eyes (that were growing heavier and heavier by the second), getting under the thick blanket. "Goodnight, Justin," I fluffed up my pillow and threw my head back onto it. I'll leave the switching off of lights to the best guy for the job.
"Whoa," he said, "no goodnight kisses? No hugs? No cuddles until we fall asleep?" I could hear his pout at the end that made my heart soften even more, that I couldn't not say yes.
I was more than certain that I was already asleep—well, semi-asleep so I still managed to shift myself and make my way into his bloody brawny arms. "Happy yet?" I asked drowsily, fighting the sleep that was overwhelming me just so I could hear his answer.
"I'm more than delighted at the moment," he chuckled, bringing me even closer as I snuggled deeper into the warmth of his body, hiding my face in his bare chest. He stretched an arm over my waist, turning his entire body to face me, like mine already is to him before throwing one of his legs over mine.
I didn't know what I'd said to him, but I know I did say something because it earned me back vibration (question mark), his voice, and a kiss from him on the crown of my head.
Oh no. . . What the fuck did I say?