Full Court Press (33 page)

“Yeah, I have noticed that he’s had an interest in you that I haven’t ever seen from him.”

“So am I a terrible person? For betraying his trust?”

“What you did was wrong, but you were curious. Who wouldn’t be? You know that it was wrong, and you’re sorry. There isn’t much else you can do. The deed is done, right? All you can do is let him know you are sorry and you’re there for him if he needs you.”

“Do I deserve forgiveness?”

“Yes,” Anderson said, without hesitation. “I mean, he’s just afraid that you will think his sister’s a freak. That’s why he hides her. A lot of people called her crazy for a long time, and he hated it.”

“But that’s not what I think at all. She obviously has issues but I would help if I could, you know? She seemed nice sometimes.”

“That’s what’s so hard about it. She was such a nice girl, so happy and smart. And now...she’s nice sometimes, but she can’t control her emotions or what she says, and it can really hurt Beck.”

“Yeah, I saw that too. Is she going to get better?”

“To an extent, they might be able to wean her off the strict schedule, and help her learn to be more ‘normal’ but the brain damage...she’ll always have seizures, always have severe mood swings, always have the pain that comes along with it.”

A tear slid down Carmondy’s cheek.

“Her best hope is that the doctors learn something about what sets off her seizures so they can avoid it. But last I heard it was completely unpredictable.”

Carmondy shivered. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I can’t hear that. I saw it. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

Anderson nodded and made sure she was comfortable. “Just do your best with Beck. I think he’ll come around, for you, just give him time and space. If there’s one thing I learned, push him, but don’t try to force him.”

“I don’t think anyone can force Beck to do anything.”

Anderson pushed his hand into her hair and massaged her skull, which felt amazing. Carmondy moaned and pressed her face tighter against his neck.

“Go to sleep.”

“Are you gonna be here when I wake up?”

He kissed the top of her head. “Only if you want me to be.”

She nodded. “Please.”

“Then yes, now sleep.”

The command was soft, gentle, nothing like Beck’s commands, but she still found it easy to obey. Her body was tired and sore, her brain was completely exhausted, and she had no problem falling asleep.

On Monday, Carmondy couldn’t wait to get to school. Beck hadn’t shown for the shoot-around Sunday morning.

Anderson said Beck wasn’t at his house or answering his calls. But, of course, Carmondy already knew that because she had tried to call Beck and had stopped by his house as well, neither of which had provided her with results.

But now it was Monday and surely Beck wouldn’t skip school. She arrived and found Anderson leaning against her locker, staring across the hall at Beck’s locker, as if trying to burn a hole into it.

“Hey.” She couldn’t help but look around the hallway for Beck. Anderson didn’t answer, just glared at the locker. “Something wrong?”

Yeah, there is,” he snapped. “I need to talk to the fucker but he’s not home and won’t return my calls. I have no idea where he is. He’s my best friend, and if—” he looked around and lowered his voice, “if he’s hurting girls, especially a girl who is my friend, he needs to answer for it.”

Ugh, back to this again? “I told you, he’s not hurting me, I promise.”

“Yeah, well...I don’t believe you. I just need to talk to him.”

She sighed. “Anderson...I wish you would—”

“No, just drop it, okay? I’m not discussing this. Now will you—” Anderson stopped talking, his glare shifting from the locker to over her shoulder.

She whipped around to see Beck.

He looked mostly normal, but his face was completely devoid of emotion, the way it had been when she met him.

She stepped toward him. “Beck, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Can we talk please?”

“Fuck off,” he said before turning to his locker.

Carmondy bit her lips. “Please... I’m so sorry, I just—”

“I don’t give a shit,” he said without turning around.

“Hey.” Anderson stalked across the hall and grabbed Beck’s arm, pulling him around so they faced each other. “We need to talk.”

“Too bad,” Beck said, trying to turn away.

“No, Beck, now.”

Beck frowned. He didn’t like being told what to do. He threw Anderson’s arm off and glanced at Carmondy.

Hatred. He looked at her as though he absolutely hated her.

“Fine.” He turned and stalked off and Anderson followed. Neither of them looked back.

“Wait! I need to talk to you too.” Carmondy chased after them.

They both rounded on her.

“No,” Beck said.

“You can’t come,” Anderson said.

She opened her mouth to protest but they both shot her looks that made her clamp her mouth shut. They turned back around and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Carmondy to stare after them, knowing this couldn’t be good.

As the minutes ticked by, Carmondy checked the hallway for what seemed like the hundredth time. What were they doing? She looked at her watch even though she knew she had plenty of time before classes started.

She saw the top of Beck’s head through the crowd before she actually saw him. The trademark hair pushed into a messy spike was a dead giveaway. She hurried toward him and when he emerged from the students, she didn’t have time to say anything before he grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hallway.

“Beck, can we talk?”

“Shut up.”

“I—”

He pushed her into an equipment closet, shutting and locking the door behind them.

She was confused. He wanted to talk here? “What—”

“Take off your shirt and jeans,” he commanded, staying on the opposite side of the closet.

“What?” she squeaked, shocked.

“Your jeans and T-shirt. Take. Them. Off.”

“What? No. Can we talk?”

“Shut your mouth and take off your clothes.” His tone was icy.

“I’m not having sex with you in a supply room at school, Beck,” she said firmly.

“Just take off your damn clothes!”

“No!” she yelled back.

He shot across the room and his hands were pulling the thin cotton over her head before she could blink.

“Oh my God!” She tried to grab her shirt but he tossed it on the ground behind him. “I said no!” She tried to get past him but he had her backed her against a table. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Beck’s fingers where ripping at the button of her jeans and suddenly she was scared.

“No, stop!” She panicked, trying to push his hands away. “Beck, please, don’t—”

He ignored her and once he had her zipper down, he flipped her around before pushing her jeans down her thighs, yanking them off her legs.

“Stop,” she pleaded. This wasn’t a turn on. He wouldn’t rape her, would he? She tried to turn around but Beck pushed her over the table so that she bent at the waist. She pushed at his hands and twisted wildly to get out of his grasp but nothing worked.

“No!” She pushed at the table and kicked at him. She wouldn’t let this happen.

He had other ideas and grabbed her wrists, keeping her from flailing.

What the hell was going on? She went from scared to pissed in a split-second.

“Beck! This isn’t funny!” He didn’t answer her though, holding both wrists in one hand, easily keeping her pinned down.

His fingers started to skim her body, not sensually, but like he was looking for something. He pushed her legs apart and she bit her lip, but all she felt was his fingertips lightly on her skin. It was only then, at the gentle prod, that she felt the bruise that must be there.

His fingers released her wrists, only to keep a hold on her hands to pull her wrists up, as if he was inspecting them. Finally, he released her, his fingertips briefly on her lower back before he grabbed her waist and pulled her upright and turned her around.

She half-heartedly tried to shrug his hands off. “What are you doing?”

He wasn’t looking at her face, instead looking at her legs and hips, his fingers skimming like they had on her back.

He just seemed to be looking at her, or more specifically, at her bruises. Some were from basketball, but most were obviously from him.

She was still shaking even though she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to hurt her. He really had just wanted her to take her clothes off and when she hadn’t done it, he’d gotten angry.

“Beck?”

“You’re shaking,” he stated.

She tried to control her trembling but she really just needed a minute...and her clothes back on. “Yeah, well, I’m angry. At first I thought you were going to...rape me.”

His eyes flicked to her face. “Why would I do that?”

“You pulled my clothes off and bent me over a table with my hands pinned behind my back! That wasn’t...that was terrifying. Just give me my clothes.”

“How did you get these?” Beck cut her off, his hand fitting over a handprint-shaped bruise on her hip.

“How do you think?” she snapped.

His eyes narrowed, so she tried again with a different tone. “Saturday, of course. Shower sex? Remember?”

He looked at her body again, his other hand touching another bruise. “You didn’t tell me—” He cut himself off and clenched his jaw. “You didn’t tell me that I was hurting you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and wished he would give her some space. “You didn’t. It was the opposite of hurt, you know that.”

“I left bruises, Carmondy.” She could hear the suppressed frustration in his voice. “You had to have felt it.”

She shook her head firmly. “No, you didn’t hurt me. I bruise easily, always have. And no, you weren’t exactly gentle but...that was kind of the point.”

His jaw clenched. “You should have said something.”

“I didn’t know! I didn’t notice until Anderson pointed it out. I can’t really feel them. They’re superficial, I promise.”

He assessed her for a moment before he accepted her answer. “Put your clothes on.”

She picked up her clothes with shaky hands and started to pull them on. “We need to talk.”

“No.” He turned to leave.

“Yes.” She dropped her T-shirt and got between him and the door.

“No,” he said again, reaching around her.

“Yes!” She shoved his arm back.

“I said no, Carmondy.” He looked deadly.

“I don’t care. I’m not going to let you push me around anymore, Beck. I’m not going to do it.”

“Whatever, get out of my way.”

“Or what?” she countered, planting her back against the door.

His eyes narrowed further and suddenly he was picking her up and moving her to the side.

“No!” She shoved away from him and batted at his arms, keeping him away from the door.

He was irritated and tried to grab her again but she squirmed out of his hold and shoved him as hard as she could, which managed to push him back a single step.

She stood against the door again, determined not to let him out until they had at least talked about something.

“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped. “You know I could break you in half.”

“I know, but you won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

She didn’t answer. “I have something to say to you.”

“Fine, what is it?” he asked, seething.

She took a deep breath, needing to get this out. “I’m not okay with how you treat me.”

He frowned. “You just said that the bruises didn’t hurt.”

“They don’t. I’m not talking about the bruises.”

“Then what?”

“I’m talking about this thing, between you and me, outside of the bedroom, the way you treat me.”

“I treat you the same as everyone else.”

“No, you don’t, Beck. You can’t just pull a girl into a closet and rip her clothes off, and expect her to be okay with it. That’s not okay.”

“You weren’t listening to me.” He almost sounded confused.

She almost flipped out right there. “Damn it, Beck! We’ve been through this. I like being told what to do in bed. Out of bed is a different story. You did it to be mean and you know it. You could have asked me, told me that you wanted to see the bruises and I would have shown them to you, you know that. So why did you do it?”

He took a moment to answer. “Because that’s who I am.”

She glared at him. “That is such a load of shit.”

Beck shrugged.

“What I did was terrible. I am sorry and you have every right to be mad at me but you have no right to terrify me like that.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know I would never rape you.”

“I thought I did, but Beck...you don’t understand, you couldn’t understand. I don’t expect you to be nice, I don’t even expect you to be civil anymore, but I don’t like being hurt.”

“You said I didn’t hurt you!”

“Not physically, Beck! But things like this! The way you treat me, talk to me, drag me around because you know I won’t do anything about it, and scare the shit out of me without any regard for my feelings! You hold it over my head that I get off on being bossed around even though you know I’m uncomfortable about it. All of that hurts worse than any bruise ever could.”

Beck was silent for a moment, as if he was processing the information. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m not going to be able to keep doing what we’re doing if you are going to continue to treat me like this. I can’t take it. I just can’t. Not when one moment you are perfectly nice, and the next you won’t even speak to me.”

“Are you giving me an ultimatum?” he asked slowly.

“No, no, I just...that’s how I feel. I know that you would still be able to get me in bed, because I could never resist you, you know that. But I would ask you not to. I would ask you to leave me alone.”

“I should hate you right now. I do hate you right now...for what you did.”

“Yes, and I have apologized and I’ll keep apologizing, but the forgiveness part is up to you. You know I didn’t do it to hurt you, or to just be nosey, but to try and understand. I’m pretty sure that you are mostly angry because you are afraid that I will think your sister is...some kind of freak?”