Then Summer Came (19 page)

I nodded, happy to settle the tension between us.  I was glad to be talking to him.  He didn’t bring anything up about our argument, he just laughed and joked, and it was nice. 

The pizza deliverer knocked at the door.  Beck stood and fished his wallet from his jeans pocket.  He flipped out a few bills and opened the door. 

“Oh, yum.”  A seductive female voice oozed into the apartment. 

I leaned up and saw a black-leather clad blonde pasting herself all over Beck.  Her mouth was almost swallowing his. 

He pushed her away and she pouted.  “You don’t look very happy to see me.”

“Well, we thought you were the pizza guy,” he explained.  She looked over at me, clearly seeking the “we” he spoke of.  She shot me a nasty smile and grasped Beck’s pants where they buttoned.  She walked toward the stairs and tugged for him to follow her. 

He tossed his money onto the table by the door and eyed me, shrugging—his way of telling me to enjoy the pizza alone. 

I decided to take the pizza to my apartment and invite Em over. 

“I just hate it.  There’s always some chick at the apartment,
or three or four
.  It’s so annoying.”

Emily sat at our coffee table, painting her finger nails a shimmering gold shade. She quietly listened to me bitch about Beck and his never-ending line of randoms for the better half of an hour, while we ate our
free
pizza.

“I wish he’d just…
leave
!” I griped. 

”Really?”  She looked shocked that I’d said that. 

“Yes,
really
!” I snapped. 

“Lis, you guys can’t just get along?  You’re going to be in-laws.”

“I don’t care!  I try to be nice, but he’s not very receptive to that,” I said; it was basically a lie.  I think I used every opportunity I had to be rude, but I didn’t think I was being unnecessary.  He was being an ass, so it was definitely necessary.  “Ugh, I’m just…I need to sleep.”

“I wish you would,” she murmured.

I sighed knowing I was the one being obtuse.  “Nite,” I said and headed to my room.

The next morning, I didn’t even bother eating or doing anything, for that matter.  I wanted to work.  Work was what I needed.

I grabbed my keys and headed out.  “I’ll see you later, Em,” I said as I passed the sofa, where she’d fallen asleep eating pizza.



Work had actually been a really nice escape.  I walked into the apartment, hoping Beck had found a place to crash for the night.  I thought about going up to my apartment instead, but I just wanted to sleep in Derek’s bed, and there was no way I was going to be run out of the apartment that was basically mine. 

On the elevator ride up, I called Derek in hopes that he would come spend the night with me, but of course, seeing me two nights in one week was just too much to ask. 

I opened the door and was almost trampled by three disheveled, giggling girls.  They looked like they were about sixteen, but I knew Beck would never have anyone younger than eighteen in his bed.  He’d mentioned it too many times when we’d first met.

I growled under my breath as the girls wiggled out of the apartment, Beck holding the door for them.  I gripped all of my stuff tight to my chest and rolled my eyes as I pushed passed him, bound for Derek’s room. 

“Seriously,” his tone was flat and lifeless, “what’s your problem?”

I froze in front of Derek’s bedroom door.  I turned back to look at him, but I couldn’t say anything; I was fuming. 

“What?  Just say it, Lissa!  Tell me what your problem is!”

”I’m tired of your randoms!” I snapped.  “You’re a whore, and I’m fed up with it!”

“Well, it’s a good thing it’s none of your business.”

“
It is my business
!  You’re turning the apartment into a whorehouse, and I can’t stand it anymore, Beck!”

“Well, then it works out perfectly that you have
your own apartment
!” he shouted.  “So, you don’t have to be here!”

I growled and kicked Derek’s door open.  “Why did you come here?” I yelled at him.  “Why couldn’t you have just stayed in Hawaii, or gone
somewhere else
?” 

“God,” he gasped, throwing his hands dramatically into the air, “I’ve been wondering that same thing lately!”

I shook my head.  He was an asshole of ridiculous proportions, and I didn’t have time for his shit.  I disappeared into Derek’s room, slamming the door behind me.

Chapter Eighteen

Our arguments had been plentiful lately.  I’d stayed out of Derek’s apartment as much as I could, but I’d left my planner and my clutch there and I needed to go get it.  I hoped he wasn’t there; I didn't think I could face him.  I just needed to slip in, grab my stuff, and slip back out. 

I turned the knob and shut the door back quietly.  I spotted my stack of designs on the dining-room table, and I walked over to grab them up.  I’d forgotten they were even there.  I grabbed my clutch from Derek’s room, and I headed for the stairs to get my planner from the desk drawer. 

I could hear moans coming from upstairs.  I rolled my eyes inwardly and jogged up the stairs quietly.  As I walked down the hallway, I realized they were coming from Beck's room.  It was a woman,
of course
.  I stopped in my tracks when I heard him groan.  I could see his door was cracked open.  My face felt hot, and my hands were shaking.  I felt angry.  How dare he have sex so loudly, with the door wide-freakin-open, knowing other people could've been in the house!  I felt every muscle in my body tighten.  It was so unbelievably rude for him to just…ugh!  I was so pissed off!  I wanted to march right over there and kick his door open and ruin any kind of orgasm the two of them were so obviously building to! 

I stomped down the hall, not nearly as loud as I would've liked to, due to the carpet, and I stopped when I got to his door.  I had intended on just yelling something loudly as I passed the doorway; something about how gross they were being, knowing other people lived there, or maybe something about how much of a whore the random was, but that quickly changed when I saw the two of them. Beck was actually
staring at me
as soon as I appeared in the doorway, as if he'd been awaiting me.  It upset me so much that I was struck stiff.  I watched him, watching me, while he fucked the brunette random, from behind.  He was on his bed, on his knees, her ass backed up to him bitch style, and his fingers were clutching her hips, digging into her tanned flesh. 

They were both completely naked, and I could see how hard he was for her, in between their thrusts.  Her unnecessarily large tits were smacking her in the chin as she bounced off Beck with a rough growl, followed by words of encouragement. 

My nostrils flared, and I felt the heat rising in me.  I watched the bitch as she gripped his sheets and screamed for more, and when my eyes met Beck's again, he was still looking at me, his face emotionless.  I was grinding my teeth mindlessly, so angry I could barely see straight, but he looked like a man with no cares at all.  He didn't even seem to notice he was in the middle of a fuck session, but then his eyes rolled into his head and his head fell back, like he'd begun to enjoy it all of a sudden. 

I watched as he gripped her hips tighter.  Their moans and rapid breaths became in sync, and I kicked his door, suddenly so angry that I couldn't contain it anymore. I ran back down the stairs, not even taking the time to see if I'd even disturbed his booty call at all.  It was childish, but I was pissed, and I didn't know what else to do. 

I ran into the kitchen and yanked a glass from the cabinet.  I popped the cork on the half-empty tequila bottle and poured some in the bottom of the tumbler.  I shot it and followed it with two more.  I let the burn of the tequila going down distract me from what I'd seen, and I could feel it flooding my veins and easing my nerves.  I took one more shot and replaced the bottle. 

I stood in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with my head on my arms, trying to forget that horrific display of revenge sex—surely that'd been its purpose; Beck was angry with me, and he wanted me to hear them and see them.  He'd left the door open and made absolutely no effort at all to keep that slutty bitch quiet.  He'd even saw me watching and didn't say a word, and he sure as hell didn't look ashamed.  This felt much different from the first time I'd walked in on him fucking one of his randoms, and there weren't enough words in ten languages to express how angry I was at him.  

I was so livid with him that I felt like I might implode.  I ran out of the apartment and to the elevator.  I never wanted to see him again…
ever
!  How could he just look at me while he screwed another girl?  How could he be so cold and hateful and just stare dead into my eyes while he fucked one of his stupid randoms?  I was so mad I just wanted to stop the elevator and scream for a few minutes, until I ran out of breath and was so light-headed I would have to sit down. 

I grabbed a bottle of water from the front desk and chugged it, heading for the door.  "No biggie," I said out loud but to myself. 

Why was I so mad?  I was the one who'd ended what we were doing, right? 

I pushed through the front doors and headed up the sidewalk. 

But was it really necessary for him to look at me while he had sex with her, like, I wasn't even standing there, or like, it didn't bother him at all that I was?  

I walked around LA for hours, until I was just too tired to walk anymore, and then I headed back to the apartment.  Beck was gone, and I was thankful.  I missed Derek so much that it came crashing down on me like a fifty-story LA office building.  I curled up under Derek’s blankets, hugged up to his pillow, and cried myself to sleep.  I hated to cry, but sometimes it was the best therapy.  Emily had always told me that.  That damn degree of hers would be the death of me.



I woke up still lying across Derek's bed the same way I'd fallen asleep.  I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling.  I had to meet Emily at eight, and I had less than forty-five minutes to get there. 

I grabbed a towel and headed for Derek’s bathroom.  I pushed open the door and Beck was standing there, tying a towel around his waist.  He was still wet from the shower he'd obviously just stepped out of.  His hair was dripping, and it made me squirm in my house shoes. 

"What the hell?” I shrieked.  “Why aren't you in your bathroom?"

"Well, I do live here…so aren't they all mine?" 

"Whatever," I said and turned to flee. 

"Lissa, wait," he pleaded and grabbed my wrist.  He pulled me back into the bathroom in front of him.

I yanked my hand from his and took a deep breath, letting it out in the form of a very irritated sigh. 

"Please, I just want to talk to you.  I just want to know why you’re so mad at me." 

"I’m not," I said passively. 

His eyes widened suspiciously.  "Really?  You seem pretty pissed lately." 

"Maybe you're just a horrible judge of mood?" I shrugged. 

"Why'd you kick my door, Lissa?"  He ignored my sarcastic statement completely. 

"Accident," I said and turned to leave, again. 

He caught my arm, again, and turned me back around saying, "Did it bother you?" 

I groaned.  "Did what bother me?" I snapped and yanked my arm from his grasp, again. 

"What you saw, did it bother you?" 

My eyes met his, and I could feel the hurt in my own stare, and he could probably see it.  "No," was all I said. 

"It didn't bother you?" 

"No," I said, again, keeping my face as straight as I knew how. 

"Then why'd you kick the door, Lissa?  And don't say it was an accident!  Why'd you run off, and why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't, Beck.  You're imagining shit!"  I turned again, and he slid his arm around my stomach and spun me into his chest. 

"Stop lying, Lissa!" he hissed through his teeth.  He was staring down at me, both of his arms wrapped around me. My arms were mashed between our bodies and my fists turned into my chest.  "You're telling me it didn't bother you?" he continued in a huskier voice. 

"No, it didn't."  I tried to sound unshaken as I peered up into his angry stare. 

"It didn't bother you to see me with another woman?" 

I stared straight up at him with all the seriousness I could muster up and said, "No," as sternly as a whisper could get. 

I felt his hands shift under me and one slid down to my lower back. He pulled me in tighter, and I clenched my fists tighter.  "It didn't bother you to see me with her?” he asked, leaning into my ear. “To see us together,
naked
?"

"No."  I closed my eyes and imagined him away, but it didn’t stop him. 

"It didn't bother you that I
touched
her," his hands slid from my back, over my sides, "like I touch you?" 

“No,” I whispered, my eyes still closed.  It'd become harder for me to breath, and my voice faltered.  His lips ran down the side of my neck. 

"It didn't bother you that my lips touched her, like they touch you?"  His tone had become seductive, and he kissed the hollow of my neck. 

I shuddered.  "No."  It was hardly a word.  I clenched my eyes shut tighter and tried to regain my composure. 

His lips came closer to mine, and I could taste his breath as he continued.  "It didn't bother you that she was wrapped around me, and I was
inside of her
,
like—" 

"Stop!" I screamed and shoved him off me, but his fingers wrapped around my wrists and he held me close to him. 

"You stop!" he said down at me, scathed.  His breath washed over me, and I felt my entire body tense up.  "You're the one lying!" 

I convulsed and tried to free my hands.  "Of course it bothered me you asshole!" I yelled back at him.  "How could you just stare at me while you were fucking her?  How could you just gaze off at
me
while you fucked
someone else
?  How could you do it right in front of my face? 
How could you watch me, watching you fuck another woman
?  How could you look me dead in the eyes and be completely unaffected by my presence?”