Other Side of Beautiful (A Beautifully Disturbed #1) (3 page)

“Whoa, Dinninger, you need a hand.”

Benton surprises me from my left. I start first, but the start instantaneously melts away from the sound of his velvety voice in my ear. “No.” And I’m not kidding when I say it takes everything in me to recover from that swoon moment without being caught, embarrassment be damned. “I’m…I’m okay.”

“That wasn’t a question.” He lifts Kelly from my back. We walk out of the apartment to the elevator carrying her between us.

“She seems to be getting worse. Do you think maybe we should talk to her about it?”

“Like an intervention?”

“I guess. I just don’t want anything bad to happen, you know?”

Yes, I officially hate crushes. Benton Hayes, silver medal winner for hotness on the GHU campus. The gold medal winner for writing, and although I’ve never kissed Collin, I think the gold would go to Benton for that kiss I will never be able to forget, probably for the rest of my life. He yet again shows true friendship, concerned about Kelly’s drinking. All I do is shake my head to respond, because really, where do I come off intervening on Kelly’s drinking? I’m not any better than her. Not because of drinking, but because of other stuff. Of course Benton couldn’t possibly know that, how damaged I am. I’d just feel like a hypocrite telling her not to drink after everything I’ve done.

We step out of the apartment building, the chill a welcome distraction from the hot flashes; being so close to Benton really brings the hot flashes out. Far too soon, yet not soon enough for my taste, we reach my little Ford Focus and I press the unlock on my key fob. Good thing for keyless entry, because Kelly seemed to get heavier the closer to my car we got. I wonder how I ever managed by myself.

“Beautiful night, tonight. So cold and clear we can see every star in the sky,” he says, helping lower Kelly into the backseat so she could lie down.

“Mmm…it really is. Nights like these make me glad I decided on Michigan. We don’t get this kind of clarity back home.”

He smiles at me again, a genuine, beautiful smile. “So we really aren’t going to see you for a whole semester?

“No. As much as you’ll all miss my charm and humor, I’m trying to set up my classes for senior year, getting through all the tough ones now so I can have all writing classes in the fall. But I’ll be around, I mean, if you still want to put up with my ass outside of class.”

“It’s a safe bet.”

Talking with him comes so easy. I wouldn’t mind sitting out here talking the rest of the night. But this is Benton Hayes whose time I’ve been bogarting. “
Crap.
” Yeah, I even shock myself with how loud that pops from my mouth. He crooks an eyebrow at me. “I’m keeping you from all the hot girls. Isn’t there someone you should be kissing?”

“No.” Benton laughs a humorless laugh. “I think I’ve done my kissing for tonight.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Dinninger—”

“I should get going.”

“Probably.” As he turns to leave, I stop him first.

“Happy New Year, Benton. And thank you.”

Chapter 3

Ben

She looked fucking gorgeous tonight. The way she filled out those jeans of hers. What was I even thinking? Kissing Elly Dinninger? It seemed so perfect when Zena announced her game—my opportunity. Not sure who she was expecting, because that was one hell of a kiss. But judging from the shock on her face, the way she scrunched up that adorable button nose and those seductive almond eyes grew so wide, it clearly wasn’t me. My little Elly, she’s a firecracker, all right. She just needs someone to light the wick.

I don’t know how she puts up with it. Kelly, she’s cool and hot. Two extremes in one unholy vessel makes her volatile, combustible. No doubt she’d be a good time, but get a little Cuervo in her system and she turns into Gypsy Rose Lee. There’s not a guy around campus who hasn’t seen everything she has to offer at one time or another. That’s not a judgment call. I think a woman
should
own her sexuality. But Kelly only owns it when she’s drunk, which when she’s not in class, is all the time now. That screams issues. Don’t we all have issues? What she needs is someone to help her see she’s more than all that, more than her issues. I’m not that guy. Although she’d be available if I wanted her, I could never do that to Elly, hook up with her roommate.

The whole building shakes from the thumping bass punching through the walls and floor. Zena never ceases to amaze me with the kind of parties she throws. But instead of heading back, I stand in the doorway watching the little yellow Focus drive away like a complete and utter loser. So much for my opportunity.

“
Shit
.” I wipe my hands over my face, and try yet fail miserably not to think about that if she had wanted me, wouldn’t she have let me know at some point during the evening? Not going to lie, it stings a bit. Women want me. I only sleep alone when I want to. That’s probably why it stings so badly. Collin is back in the party. I don’t want to talk to him about her anyway; he’d only tell me to tell Brontë how I feel. He of all people knows how hard that is for me. This is exactly why I don’t do matters of the heart. Sex, sex I can do. Make a woman feel good, feel desired, and you both leave satisfied. Period.

I need to get out of my own head for a while. Running, I take the stairs two at a time until I reach Zena’s hallway and the sexy piece of coed slipping into the apartment across from the party. She stops, as if sensing me, and turns. When she shines those bedroom eyes my way, I know I’m in for just the distraction I need to get Elly out of my head.

“Benton Hayes?”

“In the flesh. But I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“You went out with my old roommate, Kimber. I’m Lindsey, by the way.”

I don’t even have to ask. She’s on me before I cross the threshold to her door. Yes, she’s exactly what I need to stop thinking about her. Damn her, why’d she have to look so especially good tonight? Why’d she have to kiss me the way she did? Why didn’t I just go with her to take Kelly home? Because I’m a coward.

When I feel her getting more aggressive with her kisses and touches is when I realize I’d let up. I have to get Elly out of my head. I’m with Lindsey tonight, and tonight Lindsey will feel good and desired.

***

I did my job exactly as I’d set out to do. Lindsey was a little spitfire in the bedroom, keeping me going all night. But in the end, she’s just like all the rest, namely, not her. Not. Her. So even though all I want to do is sleep the party out of my system, I dress before Lindsey wakes and sneak out quietly. I think she’s my last one for a while. It wasn’t fair to Lindsey that the only way I got off was by picturing another woman underneath me.

Some guy I saw at Zena’s last night is slipping out of our apartment when I get home. “He’s waiting for you,” the guy says to me. I nod. That’s one way Collin and I differ. I never bring them home. Although today is the third time I’ve seen the guy. He seems nice enough the brief times we’ve spoken. Col will introduce us when he’s ready.

Sure enough, when I walk inside Collin is sitting on the sofa with his arms crossed over his chest. He was even considerate enough to have this conversation fully dressed, which means shit’s about to get serious. Col doesn’t usually let technicalities such as clothing get in his way when he has something on his mind. “I don’t suppose you went with her last night?”

“
No
.”

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“Why are we discussing what I do at—” I look down at my watch. “—seven a.m. on New Year’s?”

“Because I don’t even think you’re fooling yourself anymore.”

Ouch.
And now we’ve reached the point where he crosses over from best friend to nuisance, calling me on the crap I’d rather not be called on. “I’m not,” I say honestly and drop down in the chair across from him.

“So then what are you going to do about it?”

“What am I going to do? I kissed her last night and she ran.”

“She didn’t run. If you didn’t tell her how you feel, then to her that kiss was just a party game.”

“Have you ever thought she just doesn’t want me like that? Maybe she just wants to stay friends.”

“Have you seen the way she looks at you? But you know Elly, she’ll never make the first move. You have to do it. Suck it up and take care of business. Now, I need coffee. That was Kip, by the way. You might see him around here a bit more.” I smile at him. Good to know one of us is getting his shit together. “What?” he says. “Don’t look at me like that. Go get cleaned up so we can go.”

Chapter 4

Elle

The worst part about drinking holidays is that I have to experience Kelly’s morning after without the distraction of a hangover myself. Her morning afters seem to center around me and what I can do to help her through it. I woke this morning to my name being called out—well, more like a moan than a call—between heaving sounds that I followed to Kelly, sitting on the floor with her head resting against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl. And she’s a mess. Vomit trails down her dress, the one from last night she had been too wasted for me to get her out of. It took a herculean effort just to get her inside the house and onto her bed without the aid of Benton. There’s an upchuck trail following the floor, as if she tried to make it to the old throne but just couldn’t get there on time.

“I’m here, Kel,” I coo softly and carefully begin peeling her night of excess away without getting it on either of us. She whimpers several times, sits up rigid fast, and heaves again. I hold her hair back until nothing else comes up and then help her stand, walking her into the shower. Kelly can’t stand on her own, falling forward and then backward both times I try to leave. Leaning on me might be a metaphor for her life. I mean, she hasn’t stood on her own since we met. But friends help friends. I climb in the shower fully clothed and help her wash up.

She seems to perk up a little, able to finish without me. My friends are going to miss me this semester. While changing out of my soaking wet pajamas, I can’t help thinking about the conversation Benton and I had last night. Cricket and my charmed sister Dinah would never believe me if I told them. People will miss me.
M
e.

Only my dad and grandmother ever missed me, and they haven’t missed me in years now. I dress quickly in a pair of my favorite ripped and holey jeans, my Keep Calm and Keep Writing T-shirt, and a GHU writing department hoodie. Kelly, a little more alert now, stands at my bedroom door. After helping her back over to her room and into a pair of pajamas, she climbs into bed without a fight. Before taking off for the morning, I have to clean up her vomit trail. The sour smell burns my nose, and I place my hand over my mouth to keep me from vomiting. Somehow I manage to push through it, sealing up the last of the disgusting paper towels in a plastic grocery bag, then stuffing it into two more bags to keep the smell from seeping back around the kitchen before tossing it in the trashcan. Kelly’s snoring travels throughout the apartment. She snores while I clean up her puke. I’d find the situation bordering on prophetic if I wasn’t so completely grossed out at the moment.
She’s your friend, Elly.
I just have to keep reminding myself,
she’s your friend.

Since my services are no longer needed, coffee is definitely in order. I snatch up my well-worn copy of
Jane Eyre
, my all-time favorite book, and head out to The Brew, our favorite coffee shop just off campus. It only takes five minutes to get there from my place, but there’s not a parking space to save my life, and I have to sit double parked for the next twenty minutes before someone emerges caffeinated enough to face the day. A sneaky little Toyota pulled in about a minute ago, thought I wasn’t paying attention. It tries to steal the spot from me, but I’m a girl on a mission. Not smart to get between me and my coffee.

How are all these bodies actually here so early? I expected a nice morning of quiet reading, not this—probably fifteen people in front of me waiting to order. The line moves so slowly I got to attend my youngest grandchild’s college graduation before actually reaching the counter. The crew, however, are on point doling out the pastries and caffeinated pick-me-ups, despite last night’s indulgences. Within a minute I have a hot mocha and a blueberry scone in hand and my book tucked up under my arm, trudging between the tables and chairs trying to snag an empty spot. There are no empty spots.

The sad part is these tables aren’t even occupied by people. Maybe they used to be people, but today they’re more dead than alive, more zombie than living, breathing human, all heads resting against the tabletops, groaning out incoherencies. I walk over to the back wall and lean against it, setting my coffee cup on the trashcan.

I kissed Benton Hayes last night. The thought hasn’t strayed far from my mind since it happened. He really was so good about it, trying not to make me feel more uncomfortable. But that kiss. That kiss tasted like the tropics and sex. I should’ve recognized his citrus scent. And his lips, I’ve dreamt about those for so long now. Well, I felt him down to my pretty painted toenails. Sometimes life could be as pleasant as a dog with worms—itchy and uncomfortable. Maybe it’s time to drag my life across the carpet to scratch that itch. What would Jane do? I flip to my bookmarked page. I know exactly what Jane would do; she’d run away.

But I can’t up and leave in the middle of the school year.
Jane, you’re letting me down
. Someone who never lets me down, the hand vigorously waving at me as I scan once more for an empty seat, the hand attached to Collin. I give a quick nod, then pick my drink back up and head over to his table.

“I did not expect this kind of turnout. Thanks for taking pity.”

“Please, I would never pity the great Elly Dinninger. I’m humbled to be in your presence.”

I laugh at him. “Okay.”

“Toting Brontë again, I see.”

“Always.”

“You and that book.”

“Me and that book. What can I say?”

“Well, we think it’s cute, your little fixation with Jane.”

“We?”

“Yeah. Me and—”

Benton comes walking—no, he doesn’t just walk, he saunters. Benton saunters up from the direction of the bathroom with his disheveled bedhead and no shame swagger. Benton Hayes, a sight to behold even after the biggest party night of the year. And of course I have to suppress the swoon. Me, swooning? It’s unheard of. I don’t swoon.

“Dinninger,” he greets me. “You’re looking well this morning.”

“I didn’t drink, so…I’m surprised to say the same about you.”

He is about to reply, I can see the words poised on the tip of his open mouth, until Dr. Branagh, one of my former professors, walks by us. She raps her knuckles on the tabletop to get our attention, and he turns his head.

“Mr. Pratt, Ms. Dinninger, good to see you. I hope you’ve been keeping up on your writing over the holiday,” she says to me and Collin.

“Always,” I nod and say back to her.

“Mr. Hayes, I need to see you at the beginning of next week, so please have your portfolio ready.”

“I’ll be there.”

She smiles at him bright and proud, not like a professor with a star student but like a woman in love, which I can’t even begin to consider without throwing up in my mouth a little. Because she’s beautiful, worldly, and sophisticated. I like men and I’d sleep with her, which doesn’t leave much chance for girls like me with a guy like Benton. I suppose, good for him though.

“You have a rare talent, Mr. Hayes.” Dr. Branagh keeps her attention totally fixed on him as if Collin and I had suddenly disappeared from the table. “Use it wisely.”

Yup. “Rare talent” is definitely a euphemism.

I actively watch her walk away, wishing like mad that some of her something-ness would rub off on me. Maybe I could soak it in through osmosis. Benton takes a long sip from his coffee and asks, “So, Dinninger.” My eyes dart from her retreating form to meet his pure ocean depths. “Do you know the difference between medium and rare?”

I shake my head. “Uh, no.”

His brilliant smile lights up the room again, the poster child for the American Orthodontic Association. “Medium is six inches and rare is eight.”

And that would be it. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. Or, perhaps in his case, a wiener—I so did not just go there—even though apparently just about every other woman on campus, including the professors, has. But what do I expect from my “curves” but a front row ticket to the no-go show?

It sucks crushing on someone who would never crush you back. And the worst part? We’re friends. Honest to goodness friends, which means I can’t just avoid him, despite how badly I might want to some days. Like when I know he’s been out with a particular girl. Rejection stinks. It’s what I get for setting my sights so high. Still, I’d rather get shot down by Benton than some pimply-faced Pokémon trainer who thinks his online mastery makes him a better catch than me.

Well, I refuse to let some hypothetical Pokémon trainer or Benton win the day. I suck in a breath and smile big. “Rare is like an honest politician. Only exists in theory.”

Collin spits out his drink, coughing and choking. “Ouch.”

“My self-esteem called. It wants my manhood back.”

“I think I saw it chasing after Dr. Branagh.”

“Elly.” Collin reaches over the table, pulling my hand into his. “I like this side of you. Where has she been hiding?”

“Not hiding. She’s been in a game of Double Dutch, waiting for her chance to jump in.”

“If you were a guy, I’d kiss you, I think.”

“You can always pretend, Collin.”

“Did you hear that, Ben? Our little Elly wants
me
to kiss her.”

“It’s a challenge,” I tell him.

“He’s not all that.” Benton twists his coffee cup in his hands, not making eye contact with me or Col.

“Speak for yourself.” Collin takes a humorously indignant tone with Benton. “I am all that
and
a bag of chips.”

“Um, yeah. 1993 called. It wants its saying back.” I laugh, glaring them both down.

“You can’t use that,” Ben says, playfully slapping his hands down on the table in front of him in protest.

“I used it better. Deal with it.” It’s these playful moments that are my favorite. I get the Benton and Collin that nobody else save maybe Errol and Sabrina ever gets to see. Not even Kelly, or Garret and Zena. Maybe they get more than the populous at large, but not what I get. Which would be how this damn crush of mine always seems to intensify.

He clucks his tongue while laughing under his breath, and shakes his head in defeat. “Okay, so how’s Kelly?”

“It’s New Year’s.”

“So that good, eh? You’re her roommate, not her babysitter, you know. It’s not fair you have to always give up the party because of her issues.”

His lips moved. Fully formed words left his mouth, but that ridiculously adorable dimple shows up to taunt me again. And any coherent thought escapes me. Snappy comebacks travel from my brain to my mouth on a five second delay, which turns into a whole mess of awkward for the three of us, because we all know I’m staring at him.

Benton takes another drink from his coffee, which appears to be my trigger to snap out of these trances his smirk or dimple or breathing tend to cause
. Humph
. I breathe out a dramatic breath. “I’ve shamed our profession.” I shrug. “What would Papa think?”

It must have been my delivery. The Oscar usually goes to Kelly for best performance by a lead actress in life, but the three of us start cracking up, loudly. Too loudly for the hung over masses at the tables around us shooting death glares in our direction.

As we try to settle ourselves down, Benton says, “Yes, well, good old Papa Hemmingway could’ve stood to be a bit more like you.” He looks right at me as he says it, sucking all the levity from the room by never breaking the intensity of his stare, almost daring me to challenge the sincerity of his statement, which makes me crush even harder. He’s a good friend, no doubt. Like he can just tell I need that reassurance.

Collin, who I’ve forgotten is sitting here, surprises us both. “You two should quit eye-fucking and just do it for real already.”

“Yeah, well…” Benton clears his throat. “My manhood is chasing after the professor, remember? Guess I better go track it down. Nice chatting with you both.” He sweeps his coffee cup from the table and bows to us before turning to leave.

“Elly, darlin’,” Collin says after sipping from his cup. “I love you, but you are so clueless.”

“About what?”

“Life.”

No truer words could have been spoken. My life for the most part has been a hot, stunted mess. You know how people have dreams for their future, goals they’ve set, a life path? Right here is as far as I’ve gotten. Grand Harbor University. Why? Because it’s in Michigan, and Michigan would be the last place I ever felt happy. And if I’m here, that means I’m not in California, anywhere near Cricket or Dinah or the old Elly I’ve been trying so hard to put behind me. I locked that Elly away the moment the now boarding sign flashed in the terminal at LAX.

Even my friends don’t know how lucky they have it. Not that life gets taken for granted or anything, well, not by all of them. But none of them have been on my end, seen and lived the world the way I have.