Fallen Angel (The List #3) (30 page)

Friday 1
^st
May 2015

11:45am

Jax

T
hree fucking
hours.

I’ve
had to sit here for three fucking hours with Beth just feet away and I’m not
able to touch her. She’s not mine to touch any more. That much is painstakingly
obvious to everybody except me.

I’ve
been wrestling with my irrational possessive side that wants to tell every
motherfucker sitting on this goddam coach to keep their hands to themselves.

Me
and the boys got on the coach first and I followed them to the back row, which
I didn’t realise at the time would put Beth in full view for the entire
journey. We’ve not had chance to speak yet so all I’ve managed is a pathetic nod
of the head when she got on the coach. None of the lads have uttered a word
about it. I’m wound up like a tight spring so I’m liable to snap at the first
person to open their mouth.

We’ve
arrived at the accommodation and the plan is to check in, dump our bags and all
meet back in the dining area for lunch. Then because the events don’t start
until tomorrow, we’re supposed to make a night of it. Those competing will take
it easy on the drinking but everybody else will be taking full advantage. As I’m
no longer competing, I can partake in the excessive alcohol consumption and I
fully intend on doing just that.

People
start breaking away once they’ve got their room keys. I head to the lift with
Craig. Most people are sharing but I specifically asked for my own room. I need
to be able to get some space this weekend. We get into the lift whilst checking
out the itinerary.

I
glance up and see Beth in the foyer with some greaseball laughing and chatting
with her. She’s got her back to me so I can’t see her face. I hit the button to
keep the doors open, fighting to keep myself from steaming over there and
telling him to back the fuck off.

“What’s up? Forgotten
something?”

Craig snaps me out of
it and I reluctantly let go of the button, watching as the doors close and
block the view.

“Nah.”

“So, now we’re by
ourselves, you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Did you fuck it up?”

“Yep.”

9:21pm

We’ve been drinking for
hours now. I’d say about half the people from our gym have come to support so
they’re all drinking. The lads are behaving themselves but taking full
advantage of the drunken chicks who are throwing themselves at any dick with a
pulse.

We’re at the bar down
the road and our crowd has drawn the attention of the locals as well as any
holidaymakers looking for a good time. Some of these girls are embarrassingly easy.
I would’ve usually at least had my dick sucked by now. But my dick’s on strike.
It’s only got blood for Beth. As much as the dark side in me is telling me that
pussy is the answer, there’s only one pussy I want and that belongs to one of
the only single girls in here that isn’t offering it on a plate to the
strongest bidder.

I swear to God, there
are pissing contests everywhere I look. It’s sad really. What’s worse is
knowing I used to be part of that. I took pleasure in biding my time, whilst
the sluts were whittled out of the equation. I’d let the lads weed out the
pretty girls with the easy pussy and then I’d have the pick of the prettiest
girls with the fussy pussy—in my experience, it usually meant it was much
better quality. Then I’d do as little as possible to get fucked.

Needless to say that
upon reflection, I hadn’t known quality pussy until I’d got my face buried
inside Beth’s.

When I’ve watched her
tonight I’ve realised I haven’t come to terms with the fact that we’re no
longer together. When I called her last night I don’t even know what I wanted
to accomplish, I just needed to hear her voice. Even if it meant it might upset
her. How fucking twisted and selfish is that?

On some level, I still
believe she belongs to me, which is fucked up in itself considering I’m the one
who ended it. But nothing about her and I has ever been simple.

The beautiful girl
standing across the room from me now told me that she loves me. She does love
me. There’s no way I could deny her my secrets after that. I may be an idiot
but I know when I’m beaten and when to concede. So that difficult conversation
is going to happen. I guess this weekend feels like the calm before the storm
now.

Staring at the bottom
of yet another glass and the cognac’s been lacing my insides for the best part
of two hours. Even so, I’m still able to clock every dude that thinks Beth is
fair game. I’ve also noticed how much Willow and Beth are knocking back,
obviously on a mission to get hammered tonight.

Beth’s cheeks are rosy
and although she’s not flaunting herself like the rest of the girls here, it
doesn’t take a magician to see the banging body beneath her clothes.

She’s wearing skinny
tightass jeans that plant pictures of me spreading her ass cheeks and fucking
her on my stairs. Her loose fitting top sways when she moves, pinning itself to
the curves it’s concealing. I imagine sucking her nipples whilst she digs her
fingers into my scalp, urging me to go down south and eat her pussy until she’s
begging for my dick.

My thoughts may be
based on memories but I bet half the men in here have been thinking alike.

Craig hands me another
glass and starts talking about the set up for tomorrow. Now I’m out of the
running, he’s one of our best competitors so he’s getting a little angst. I, on
the other hand am more interested in who the fuck has got his hands on my
girl—on Beth.

He is holding her hand
and pulling her towards the dance floor. Beth is looking to Willow, who says
something to the man. The man holds his hands up in defeat and turns to walk
away.

Everything ok?

She takes her phone
from her back pocket and the screen lights up her flushed face. I know she
knows where I am. She may not have looked over but we’re always aware of where
each other are. That’s just how it is between us. That won’t stop.

I don’t need u, if
that’s what ur implying.

Craig has given up
attempting to hold a conversation with me. He’s making an early night of it and
disappears with a few of the others. I’m left with four lads that are too drunk
to bother with conversation, which suits me perfectly.

Well, u know where I
am.

I know where ur not. Ur
not standing next to me. Ur not slamming me up against this wall &
kissfucking me until I’m breathless.

Drunk Beth is ruthless.
My dick wakes up from its protest.

U trying 2 mess with my
head?

Like uv messed with
mine? Impossible. But maybe I should try.

If fucking with my head
makes u feel better, feel free.

Beth pockets her phone
and carries on talking to Wills. They throw back their drinks and make their
way over to the dance floor.

Within one song, they’ve
drawn plenty of attention. Wills would’ve normally had her tongue down
somebodies throat by now so I don’t know what’s up with that. Probably
sisterly-solidarity or some shit like that.

Men start closing in.
My hawk eyes clock every look in her direction. It’s only a matter of time
until one of them tries to dance with her. What I don’t know is if she’ll let
them.

They’ve teamed up with
some of the other girls and look like they’re having fun when an arm snakes
around Beth’s waist from behind. My whole body reacts. I tense up. I clench my
jaw. This is the moment of truth. Beth turns around to face him. He’s tall and
built. By the looks of him, he’s from one of the other competing gyms. I know a
gym from London are staying in the digs opposite ours.

This motherfucker holds
the side of her face and whispers in her other ear. Beth covers his hand and throws
her head back laughing. I swear I can hear her laughing. Of course I can’t really
because the music’s too loud but it’s crystal clear in my head. He wraps his
arms around her waist and they start dancing.

So this is a taster of what
Beth fucking with my head feels like?

I walk away from the
lads but can’t bring myself to walk away altogether. Beth rests her arms on his
but after a while she moves them up to his shoulders. Seeing her hands on
another man makes me nauseous. He slides his hands from her waist down to her
bottom and Beth doesn’t resist. She lets him… She fucking lets him do that
knowing that I’m over here watching. She wants me to feel like this.

Some chick sees the
fact that I’m standing at the bar alone, as her invitation to get in my space.
She starts chirping away but my eyes are glued to Beth and this fuckers wandering
hands. Beth’s not dancing how she’d dance with me but it’s still enough for him
to think he’s on to a winner.

I have no rights over
her. I ended it. She is single. But she still feels like she’s mine. I can’t
just switch that off inside of me. How does she feel right now? Is she enjoying
it, knowing she’s torturing me?

I turn around to face
the bar and order another drink.

“So, shall we?”

“What?”

This blonde chick is
still here.

I take a swig of the
cool dark brown liquor and let the burn lace the back of my throat. I want that
feeling to take over my body. I don’t want to feel this overbearing, possessiveness
towards Beth.

“Shall we go for a
walk? I wanna see if you fuck as good as you look.”

“I do. There, now you
know.”

“I’d rather find out
for myself big boy. You know, all the girls in here have been daring each other
to come over and talk to you.”

I don’t even look at
her. I continue staring into my glass, swilling the liquor around and around.

“Sorry, not interested.”

The next song finishes
and another one starts. I pray that when I turn back around Beth will be
dancing with Wills and the girls again.

If she’s kissing him,
so help me God.

The blonde skank that
just offered to fuck a stranger after two minutes—
look who’s talking—
gets
the blatant message and struts off in her batty rider outfit. Whoever she’s
fucking tonight won’t even need to lift her dress, she just needs to bend over
and welcome the STI.

I empty my glass and
turn around. When my eyes hit the dance floor my heart skips a beat. I see
Wills huddling in a group taking selfies with the girls but no Beth. I scan the
floor—nothing. The perimeter of the dance floor—nothing. I look back to where
she was standing with Wills—nothing.

She’s gone.

If I ever had any
doubts about my feelings for Beth, the proof is apparent by way of the gut
wrenching feeling taking over me right now. Fuck being stabbed, this is far far
worse.

She’s left—with him.

I’m still scanning the
entire room hoping to spot her or him. Maybe they’re not together. Maybe they
finished dancing and she’s gone to the toilet. It’s possible.
Bullshit,
she’s with him.
My head’s fit to explode.

I move like a bulldozer
and make my way to the toilets. The corridors are packed but there’s no sign of
her. I need to know where she is. Every second that passes is another second
she could be in the arms of another man. I burst into the ladies but instead of
the ‘Get out’ screeches you’d expect, the women queuing for the cubicles are more
like leeches.