Other Side of Beautiful (A Beautifully Disturbed #1) (18 page)

She says to me, “You look nervous.”

“I am.”

“How are
you
nervous? Disrobing a girl should be like eating or drinking for you.”

“I’m nervous for what it means. You aren’t just showing me your body, you are showing your trust in me. Every step means that trust has deepened.”

“Try again then,” she whispers.

So I do and the bra falls away completely. We are chest to bare chest. I couldn’t tear my eyes away now if I wanted to. She has the most perfect breasts I’ve ever had the privilege to see, to touch. But it’s more than that. Knowing how her brain works, if my eyes move too fast she’ll take that as a slight. Like I’ve found some flaw. What’s a flaw? I don’t know that word in conjunction to this beautiful woman.

I really am being a good boy here, because once you’ve had your lips on Elle Dinninger’s breasts, you don’t want them anywhere else. Yet I pull back to admire once again, to caress, and to bask in the glory of the female form lying underneath me. Until she captures my mouth with a smoldering kiss.

Chapter 36

Elle

I can’t believe I’m here. With Ben. We’re both naked from the waist up. Intimacy wasn’t supposed to be a part of my life anymore. I accepted it. But here we are. Thinking about the past takes me from the moment, and the second I’m not in the moment the panic begins to form as an evil bubble in the pit of my stomach. I want my pill bottle. Fail—
no!
Not now. Not today. It’s not easy, but as I close my eyes, breathing in slowly through my nose and letting the spent air escape even slower through my parted lips, the fear bubbles fizzle away leaving nothing but raw sensation behind.

Through his slow, purposeful attack on my breasts, nipping and kissing and scraping his teeth over my highly sensitive skin, Ben asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes.”

“We’re pushing boundaries. How far are you willing to go?”

“V-valentine’s morning. I’m sorry.”

“Baby, don’t be sorry. You have to be ready. I just want to know. Valentine’s morning was pretty fucking amazing, if you remember.”

That’s where the talking officially ends. He slips his hand down the waist of my skirt instead of pushing up the hem. Brushing my panties to the side for easier access, working his magic as he concentrates on my naked breasts again.

Ben pulls his hand back up after a few pleasurable minutes from that delicate spot between my thighs, wearing a strained smirk on his lips as he brings two fingers in front of his face. “What’s—
blood
?”

Shock takes away my ability to speak, to move, to breathe. What the hell? Why does the universe hate me so damn much?

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” I finally sputter out. “I’m not scheduled to start for two days. I’ve never been early. Jesus, you could set a clock by me.” Tears sting the rims of my eyes, opening up to a full-on downpour. “How does this happen to me? I’m twenty-one, not sixteen. Sabrina has a freaking engagement ring on her finger, and you’re messing around with a pubescent mess.”

“It’s not that big a deal. You don’t think Bri and Errol had to deal with shit when they moved in together?”

“No. Not like us.”

“You’re wrong. He’s told me stuff. Babe, it’s a woman thing, I get it. Just the stuff a guy accepts when he invites his girlfriend to stay.”

“I couldn’t even warn you! Look at you, you’ve got blood on your fingers.”

“Yeah, and you’ve worn my excitement in your hair before. So, I guess we’re even. Besides, I’ve heard sexual activity can change the pattern.”

“We are not having this conversation.” Rolling up from the bed, I run to the bathroom, slam the door, and lock myself in. Sinking to the floor, I pull my knees up to rest my forehead against.

He knocks several times, but I ignore him and the knock. “C’mon, Elle—open up,
please.
”

Nothing.

“Do you have anything? I didn’t notice any feminine products in there.”

“No. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I thought I’d have time to go to the store.”

“I’ve made room for your stuff. Don’t you think I expected it? Well, not this exactly, but women have periods unless there’s a health issue, which I don’t even want to think about. Or you’re pregnant, which would be a medical impossibility for us. Or you’ve reached menopause, which you are far too young for.”

Nothing.

“Elle. Elle?” He leaves. His steps pad away from the door, growing fainter and fainter until only my breathing stirs in my ears.

Eventually, after I don’t know how much time, footsteps pad back into the room. “I—uh—didn’t know what you use—so I bought a little of everything.” There’s a sweet awkwardness to his words. I unlatch the lock and stick my hand out through the door.

Ben hangs the bag on my hand. “Thank you.”

“You got something to change into?”

“No.”

“Hang on a sec.”

I hear a rustling of drawers through the door and another knock. He hands off a pair of yoga pants and a tank top along with my unmentionables. Before I can shut the door, he catches my finger with his and holds me there.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Don’t push me away, Brontë.” Then he lets go and I close the door.

Chapter 37

Ben

She talked to me. For now. My life has been reduced to trying to pull happiness out of my girlfriend talking to me. Like it’s some kind of victory. I get it, I do. Women get weird about their periods. But for God’s sake, it was a little bit of blood. Farts, vomit, poop, menstruation, these are all body functions I can live with. News flash Elle, human beings have bodily functions, and let’s just say, it’s not always a silent night.

I can hear the shower start, and I’m more than tempted to just break down the door and end her bullshit. If I could just see what it is she’s hiding from me, then there’d be nothing left holding her back. And I could show her how to get really dirty while bathing. The phone rings while I’m standing here with a stupid grin on my face. I grab mine up in an auto response, but it’s dark so it has to be hers. Because the damn thing is still ringing. It’s Cricket. Of course it is. Every time we take a step forward she calls. When we’ve hit a stumbling block, she calls.

Periods, mood swings, Elle’s insecurities, all that I can deal with. What I can’t deal with is that woman’s presence in our lives. Not thinking, I hit the answer button, and it hits me that I’m about to talk to the witch, and my girlfriend is probably going to attempt to slice my balls off with a dull razorblade when she finds out.

“Are you going to at least say something?” Her words snap me out of the fog I’m in, and I sure as hell have an answer for her.

“This isn’t Elle.”

“Could hardly tell the difference, what with her manly voice.”

“Cricket, I don’t know what you want, but she doesn’t need it.”

“How do you know me? Don’t tell me Elly has a friend now?”

“
Listen
. I’m only telling you once. She goes by Elle now. She doesn’t need any of your bullshit and I’m not just her friend, I’m her boyfriend.”

“What’s wrong with you? No one would purposely want to be with that disappointment, so you must be after something. Is it money? Because she doesn’t have any. Everything her loser father had went to putting her through that school.”

My muscles tighten, and I’m on the verge of saying something Brontë might not forgive me for. I do manage to keep calm, which is really fucking hard right now, when I tell her, “You aren’t getting it. I’m not going to let you harm her again. Don’t call back.”

“I don’t know who you think you are or how important you think you are, but she’s my daughter and I’ll call whenever I want.”

“Okay, so you’re evil and thickheaded, so let me make it simple for you. I’m blocking your number. She won’t know about any of your calls.”

That’s what I do say. What I don’t say is that I want perfect, and with Elle I touch perfection. Every blink, every breath, every soft kiss. Every time she holds my hand. Every time she lets me rub circles over the tight muscles around her neck or down her spine. All perfection. All of it. And when Cricket calls, my perfect goes away. And I have to fight to get it back, to get us back to where we were before her intrusion.

So if my little stunt can keep her next to me instead of falling behind, it’s worth whatever fallout might come my way. I don’t want to hear any more from the devil on the other end of the line, and hang up the phone, blocking her number straight away.

Then I hear a throat clear. Collin stands just inside my room. He heard. And he’s not smiling.

“I thought you were going to stay gone for a while.”

“Planning on heading out again. Wardrobe malfunction. Sabrina got a little tipsy and a lot animated with those hands of hers. Knocked both her and Errol’s wine glasses over so I had to change my shirt.”

“So how much did you hear?”

“Hey, I understand. And honestly, you’re my hero. That woman is hideous. But do you think you had the right to do that?”

“I don’t know. What’s done is done. It kills me to see her break. My beautiful, talented Brontë reduced to soot on the bottom of that woman’s boot when she calls.”

“You really need to tell her.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. It had to happen. We couldn’t keep the whoring going for the rest of our lives. What’s acceptable at twenty-one just becomes creepy or pathetic at forty. I think we’re both finally growing up, you know?”

“You ever get scared it will all come crashing down on you?”

“Been there. Done that. Mixed the ink for the mother-fucking T-shirt.”

“I know. That was insensitive.”

“No. But every damn day to answer your question.”

“Do you think you’re in love? With Kip?” My best friend leans against the door jamb with his hands stuffed in his pockets, staring at the floor for much longer than I’m going to let him get away with. We’ve already been through too much together. It shouldn’t be so hard. We’re good people. Don’t good people deserve to catch a break every now and again? “Col,” I ask again. “Do you love Kip?”

“It’s different with us.”

“No, it’s really not. Kip loves you, we all see it.”

“He told me already, remember? I said thank you. And proceeded to throw the mother of all hissy fits the next morning. What do you think?”

“At least you said thank you. I just stared at Elle and made her feel really uncomfortable. So you’re one better than me, brother.”

“Okay, so growing up officially sucks.”

“It has its good parts too.”

“We are seriously messed up, you know that?” Collin pushes off the door, leaving me sitting on the corner of my bed, waiting for Elle to be done.

Chapter 38

Elle

When I come out of the bathroom, fully clothed after that nice, hot shower to calm my nerves, I notice Ben has my phone in his hand. He lifts his head to look at me, but it’s a strange look. Part anger. Part worry. I’m not sure what to make of it.

“Why do you have my phone?”

“Cricket called while you were showering.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Wha—what did she say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I told her not to call again.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say quietly.

“For Christ’s sake, Brontë. You don’t need that woman in your life. She’s toxic.”

“I know, but she’s still my mother.”

“Who fucked you over every way you could be fucked.”

That hurt. Doesn’t matter how true the words are, it still hurts. “I’m going for a little while.”

“Wait, no. Elle.” He steps forward, reaching out to me, but we never make contact as I sidestep him, grabbing up my purse and keys before leaving the apartment. He doesn’t follow.

Somehow I end up at this secluded little beach I like to go to, sitting in my car for the last twenty minutes watching waves break in the distance. But I can’t smell the water from here and get out to walk up the boardwalk. I step off to sit, a clear spot right at the water’s edge. Pebbled sand leaves pockmarks on my bottom through my pants, but I hardly feel them as the mesmerizing waves lap at the shore, just barely hitting the tips of my boots.

We thankfully haven’t had any snow in a couple of weeks, but March in Michigan is no better than February in the cold department. Cold? Who am I kidding? It’s frigid. Yet despite my butt freezing to the ground, the inky-blackness of the night sky makes the chill worth it. I can think out here.

I know Ben’s intentions. He only wants the best for me, but Cricket and mine, ours is a complicated relationship. The woman serves up vindictiveness the way most mothers serve meatloaf, with a side of green envy and mashed self-esteem. She needs to punish me for being born and then for landing in her home at age six. If she doesn’t get to, she will find a way to ruin my life. Now having talked to Ben, she owns my weakness.

“So were you ever planning on coming home or what? I’m not sure how to react right now. Tell me, what’s the right thing to do here, Elle?”

“How did you find me?”

“Give me some credit. I know where you go to think. Let me in. Remember, you have to let me in. Maybe I overstepped, but how many tears have you shed because of that woman?”

“You’re right. It’s just now she knows about you.”

“Is there something wrong with me that you don’t want her to know? I’m not pretending to have the boyfriend thing down, but at least I’m trying. Sometimes that feels like more than I get from you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m proud to be with you. And I
am
trying. Cricket, did you tell her you’re my boyfriend?”

“Yes. When she asked.”

“She’ll use you to get back at me. One way or another, she will find a way to destroy us, to make you hate me. It’s just a matter of time.”

“No. No she won’t. I affection you.”

“I don’t know if affection is enough.”

“Come here.” He scoops me up from the sand to hold me, hold me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held. I feel so warm and safe wrapped in those comforting arms, but I also know Cricket. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

We stand, his chest pressed against my back, looking up at the twinkling stars. Looks like thousands of them out tonight, playing like little children around the big, round mama moon shining equally as bright. It’s a different world out here. His body heat slowly ekes the chill from my bones.

Although I look calm on the outside, inwardly, the civil war rages on. He affections me, and I love that he does, but at the same time I could drown under the weight of my anxiety. My superpower waiting to bust through the surface of my calm façade. You know, I could almost feel the weight of it in my pocket, my phantom pill bottle. I feel it so much that I thrust my hand in my pocket actually expecting it to be there, only to run my thumbnail over cloth and lint.

“When is my crap finally going to be too much?” I finally have the courage to ask him, motioning between us. “We keep running in circles, Ben. When are you finally going to say when?”

“You’re crap, as you call it, isn’t anything new. I accepted it when I decided to be a part of your life, which was a hell of a longer time ago than we’ve been dating. I may not know everything that’s holding you back, but one day I will, and you will kick yourself for not letting go sooner.”

“But I’m not living up to my part. So what exactly are you getting out of hanging on?”

“That’s probably the dumbest question you’ve ever asked. It should be obvious. I get
you
. And I’ll repeat myself as long as it takes for you to believe me. Come on, now.” He starts pulling me away from the water. “You owe me a night in.”

As we walk back to the cars, he tucks me underneath his arm where I’m able to lean my head on his shoulder. Benton bends down, placing a soft kiss to my forehead. The wind tickles against the small spot of moisture where his lips touched, making me shiver. He holds me closer, tighter.

“Where’s your keys?”

“Why?” I ask, reaching into my pocket I pull them out, handing the bundle of keys and key rings over to him.

“Because.” He doesn’t need to answer. “I’m driving your car back.” He’s driving my car because Collin, Sabrina, Errol, and Kip climb out of Ben’s Jeep, all of them walking toward us.

“What—what are you all doing here?” Shock doesn’t come close to pinpointing the gamut of emotions circulating through me at the moment.

“They were worried,” Ben speaks softly in my ear. “Don’t be mad.”

I stop walking to look at him. “Mad? I’m not mad. It’s just…” I turn back to them. “How long were you all going to sit there?”

“As long as it took.” Collin steps closer. “When you didn’t come home, Ben knew where you’d gone. He tried to give you some space.” I venture a look at my completely wonderful boyfriend whose cheeks have tinged with a light dusting of red. Possibly from cold, possibly embarrassment. Either way, I know I don’t deserve the man. “But when space turned into hours,” Collin keeps going, “he decided to come after you. We wanted to see you’re okay.”

“You didn’t tell them?” I ask Ben quietly enough so only the two of us can hear me, and hitch a discreet thumb in our friends’ direction.

“Do you really feel like you have to ask me that?”

The shame engulfs me. Superpower. Boom! “I.
No
.” I hang my head, not able to face the hurt on his face any longer. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Can’t you see I don’t want sorry, Brontë? All I want, all I’ve ever wanted from you is trust.”

“I trust you, Ben. Please believe me. As much as I have ever trusted anybody in my life.” When he doesn’t say anything, I press the palms of my hands to my eyes and try to collect myself. “Can we just not do this with an audience?” And then I walk back over to my little Focus, sliding into the front passenger seat. At least it’s dark enough that none of them can see me crying, because I can’t stop the tears.

Benton’s Jeep rumbles to life and pulls away, then there’s silence again. Did he go with them? When the driver’s side door swings open I get my answer. He starts my car but doesn’t shift into drive. We idle.

“I’ll um…clear out my stuff when we get back.”

He uses my ritual, long breath in, long breath out, and rubs his hands over his face. “Will I have to deal with you threatening to pack every time we have a disagreement? Do you want to leave me, Elle? Because I don’t remember asking you to go.”

“I am too much effort. We’re a freaking broken record, spinning around until we hit the same crack, the same damn one every single time. I’m sick that I keep hurting you. Just do yourself a favor and cut me loose.”

“I’m not cutting you loose.” His voice sounds so hard and calculating, but it’s coated like mine too.

“I just keep messing up.”

“Once you trust me, you won’t.” I don’t get a chance to defend myself because Ben opens the door and climbs back out. The car is still running. He walks around to my door and pulls me out. I don’t know what’s happening. But then he opens the backdoor, pulling me into the backseat along with him, where he hooks an arm around my waist, tucking me between his legs. His back rests against the other door. One of his fingers twirls my hair while his forehead rests against my temple. I’m just not good at dealing with people. Dr. Packard would have a field day. Maybe, maybe I should break down and call him again. How do I fix this?

“Tell me another story?”

His hand stills in my hair, then he shifts several times as if trying to get comfortable. We’ve molded together, the way we fit, it has to be right. I send a silent prayer into the universe begging for it to let us catch a break. I’ve never fit with anyone before.

Finally, before starting, he presses a kiss behind my ear. “She was sitting on a bench next to a small pond on campus. I knew her name now. Seen her planted as a wallflower at a few freshman parties. Our little group was forming in those first few weeks of college, with her always on the fringes. I wanted to talk with her, just me and her. As I walked over to her, the closer I got I could see she had a notebook on her lap that she scribbled in, her hand moving flawlessly as if the rest of the world had fallen away from her. She was in some sort of zone, trance-like in appearance that most people wouldn’t understand. I understood. I knew as I watched her hand move through page after page with that same determined concentration on her face that this woman was just like me. She was a writer.”

“I remember that day. How long did you watch?”

“Probably twenty pages worth before I worked up the courage. And I was a cocky little punk back then, at least when it came to women. But damn it if when you looked up from that book and smiled at me, just me for the first time, my heart didn’t catch in my throat.”

“That was the day you officially introduced yourself. Told me you were a writer. Convinced me to check out Scriveners with you and Collin and Errol. God, that was before we met Bri.”

“That’s how we met Bri. Hard to think of a time we didn’t know her, you know?”

“I’m trying to trust you, Ben.” His hand tightens on my wrist. “You know more about me than anyone else. Even more than Cricket. Or Dinah. Because they only know the bad parts. The parts I’m too scared to let you see just yet. And before you say anything, please let me finish. They only know the bad parts, but you know the good parts. The times with my dad. Those memories were locked away in my brain until I shared them with you.”
And
I’m crying again. I just want to be done with the crying. I swipe at my eyes with my free hand. It’s hard to catch a breath with the lump wedged in my throat. Snot runs down my nose and I can taste the mucus coating every word as I struggle to swallow. “So even though I know it doesn’t feel like it to you, and I wouldn’t blame you for finally throwing in the towel, don’t say I’m not trying. Because I am. I have been. For a hell of a lot longer than we’ve been dating.”