Me (New Adult Erotic Romance) (Perfect Chaos #1) (3 page)

He didn’t try to argue. Didn’t say a word. He just nodded.

I walked away, and didn’t look back.

Chapter 4

Erica pulled on a sweater as she gave herself a once over in the mirror. “You sure you don’t want to come with me?” she asked.

“I’m sure.” The idea of sitting in a coffee house for open mic night didn’t exactly thrill me. Not to mention, the mood I was in, listening to sappy music and depressing poetry sounded like a form of torture. I’d rather stay cuddled up in my bed and watch Netflix.

“You’re missing out. There’s going to be a lot of hot guys there. I hear they all hang around to pick up girls.”

It was tempting. Maybe another guy was exactly what I needed to get over Beckham. I just wasn’t ready to. I’d give myself one night to wallow in self-pity, and then next time Erica went out, I’d happily tag along.

“Next time. Promise.”

She made a slow show of leaving. “Last chance,” she said, stepping over the threshold, and pulling the door with her.

“Have fun!” I laughed as she disappeared behind the door.

I snuggled into my comforter, and turned my laptop on. Before it fully booted up, there was a knock at the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I assumed Erica had forgotten something, and couldn’t find her keys in her bag.

I jumped up and flung the door open, not expecting to be staring into Beckham’s gorgeous eyes. A sheepish smile spread across his face as he held up a bottle of orange soda, and Baked Lays potato chips, my favorites. He remembered.

He nodded toward my room. “Are you going to invite me in?” His dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a messy bun and looked wet. My mind betrayed me as it envisioned him in the shower, water and soap suds dripping down the hard ridges of his body.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, focusing on the things in his hands and not the pictures running around in my head.

He shrugged. “Didn’t like how things went down earlier. Thought I’d make up for it. I know how you can’t say no to orange soda and chips.”

“So you’re trying to buy me?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

I placed my hand on my hip and arched an amused eyebrow.

“Okay fine. Maybe I am. Did it work?” He pouted out his luscious bottom lip and I was a goner. I stepped aside to let him in.

He stopped before fully entering my room and smiled down at me. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

I closed the door and took a deep breath. The last time Beckham Fox was in my room things went terribly wrong. But as long as I didn’t throw myself at him, it should be okay.

I turned around and found him lounged on my bed looking sexier than ever. Crap. This was going to be harder than I thought.

He grabbed my laptop and put it on his lap. “What are we watching?” he asked as he cleared my screensaver. “Grease? Really?” He curled his lip, and I snatched my computer out of his hands.

“Have you ever watched it?”

“I don’t need to. There’s singing. Enough said.”

I sat down on the bed next to him, placed the computer between us, and hit play. “Get ready to be wowed,” I said, and leaned back against the wall.

“You’re really going to make me watch this? I brought you your favorite snacks.”

I smiled big. “Speaking of, can you pass the chips?”

“I’ll remember this,” he warned as he handed me the bag.

I held my finger over my lips. “Shh, the movie’s starting.”

He rolled his eyes and dramatically fell back, laying his head on my lap. He glanced up at me, and, my God, he looked adorable with his lopsided smile.

I tapped his forehead, and then pointed to my laptop. “The screen’s over here.”

He mumbled and turned his head toward the movie. It took ten minutes before I found myself running my fingers through his hair.

“Told you,” he moaned.

“Told me what?” I asked, continuing to stroke the top of his head.

“Chicks dig the man bun.”

My hand dropped away from his head, and he reached up and wrapped his fingers around my wrist. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded.

Unable to resist his request, I continued dragging my fingers through his hair. His pocket vibrated, and he took out his phone, sending a quick text message. A pang of jealousy hit low in my gut as I wondered if he was texting another girl while he was with me.

I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know. All I cared about was this moment. Together. It reminded me of all those nights we stayed up watching TV together and talking. I didn’t realize how much I missed it, him, us, until this very moment.

We watched the rest of the movie just as we were. When he laughed, I laughed. It was contagious, and the best sound I had ever heard. Every now and again, he would reach for his phone and send a text, but I tried not to notice.

The final credits appeared, and Beckham rolled over, smiling up at me.

“So?” I asked.

“It was okay.”

“Okay my ass!” I poked his side, and he curled up in a ball. “You loved it. Admit it,” I demanded as I tickled his sides and he squirmed beneath me.

“Alright. It was better than okay.”

I continued poking and tickling his sides. “That’s not good enough.”

He grabbed my wrists and held me above him. “Have you forgotten? I’m stronger than you.”

I growled and tried to force my hands away from his hold, but it was impossible. “You never play fair.”

“Fair is boring. No fun. And for the record, the movie was pretty good.”

A smile spread straight across my face, and I bounced a little on the mattress. “I knew it!”

He released his grip on me and the loss was instant. I already missed his touch as he scooched up against the wall. “So, how are your classes going?”

I shrugged. “It’s only been a few days, but so far so good. You were right though. Most of them are total snooze-fests.”

“I wish I could say they get better, but those classes are the worst. Though once you get through those, it’s downhill from there.”

“Something to look forward to.”

We both reached for the chips at the same time, and our hands grazed. It was the slightest of touches, but the contact was unexpected. Hot bursts of pleasure ignited my skin.

Our eyes collided in one charged moment. I noticed then how his shirt brought out the green in his irises. Suddenly nervous, I cleared my throat.

He pulled his hand back and got up from the bed. “I’ll be right back. Too much orange soda.”

He disappeared out the door, and every second of the past two minutes replayed in my mind. I leaned back into my pillows, and noticed his phone sitting on the mattress. I told myself to not even think about it, but curiosity beat out rational thought. I scooped up the phone and unlocked it, surprised he didn’t have it password protected.

A new text flashed on the screen, and I was relieved when I saw it was only Nixon. Beckham hadn’t been texting a girl. He was texting my brother. I was about to place the phone back where it was when the words caught my eye.

Nixon:
Hey bro. How’s Ken doing?

Beckham:
She seems fine. Was going to drop in on her and make sure she’s not doing anything stupid

Nixon:
Like passing out drunk in a bush.

Oh my God was he ever going to let that go? And what the fuck did Beckham mean by making sure I wasn’t doing anything stupid?

Beckham:
Exactly.

Nixon:
Thanks for watching out for her. I know she can be a pain in your ass. And I know you have better things to be doing than babysitting my little sis.

Beckham:
Tell me about it.

Nixon:
Well I appreciate it.

Beckham:
I know.

Pain in the ass. Babysitting. How foolish could I be to think Beckham actually came here to hang out with me? That he actually wanted to apologize because he felt bad and not because of some promise he made to my brother.

The door creaked open, and I glanced up from Beckham’s phone. He stood there with an amused smile, but as soon as he spotted his cell in my hands, the look of disgust on my face, his smile vanished.

“Did my brother offer to pay you by the hour or are you babysitting pro bono?” I asked.

He held his hands up. “Ken, it’s not what you think.”

Anger erupted inside of me, but I forced it down enough to speak. “Really? So you don’t think I’m a pain in the ass? You don’t have anything better to be doing tonight? You don’t think I’m capable of not doing something stupid?”

“That’s not…”

I shook my head. “Save it. I don’t want to hear any of it. Just leave.”

Beckham stood there, mouth parted, but no words came out.

I threw his phone at him. “I said get out. Now!”

He tossed his hands in the air and closed his eyes, accepting defeat. “I’m sorry, Ken.”

“Do me a favor and stop apologizing, because, clearly, you don’t know the meaning of sorry. Now, I’m not asking you again.” I walked over to the door and held it wide open. “Get out.”

He went to say something, but I gave him an evil glare, and he decided against it, walking out the door. I slammed it behind him, curled into bed, and like a pathetic loser, cried myself to sleep.

Chapter 5

It was my first Friday away from home, and the only thing I wanted to do was go out and forget about Beckham. There was one surefire way to do that. I was going to hook up with another guy. Prove to myself that the one guy from my past wasn’t the only one who could give me goose bumps from a single touch.

“Let’s go out tonight,” I said to Erica who was combing her light brown hair into a ponytail.

She turned from the mirror as she secured the hair band. “I thought you’d never ask. There’s a club, Star Room, in town. I hear it’s a good time. Hot guys, lots of dancing, and a good DJ. You have a fake I.D., right?”

“Of course.” Luckily, I got one a couple of months ago from a friend of a friend. It hadn’t let me down yet.

Erica jumped up from the floor where she was sitting, and smoothed down her yellow top. “Awesome. How about we head out around ten?”

Up until three months ago, ten was an hour before my curfew. Being able to go out wherever and whenever I wanted was thrilling. “Sounds perfect.”

I grabbed my bag, and gave a wave to Erica, giving myself enough time to grab a cup of coffee on my way to class.

As usual, the line for coffee was a mile long. I happily took my place at the end, and checked my phone while I waited. I had a text from Mom, checking in, and sent a quick one back, assuring her I hadn’t developed a drug habit, or wasn’t lying face down in a ditch somewhere. 

I tucked my phone back in my bag, and spotted Beckham walking toward me. I’d been able to go three days avoiding him and now I had no choice but to face him.

“Good morning, Kenny,” he said, coming to a stop behind me, and getting a few dirty looks from people who had been waiting just as long as me.

“Becky,” I retorted, refusing to glance in his direction.

He bumped his elbow into my arm. “Still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.” I was many things, but mad wasn’t one of them. Disappointed. Humiliated. Upset. And I guess a little mad, but not at him, at myself for foolishly, again, thinking that Beckham Fox would actually want me.

No, screw that. I was mad at him. I was pissed that he made me believe he wanted it as much as I did. I saw the look in his eyes. The way his breathing picked up as his head leaned in to mine.

“Ken, I’ve known you forever, and I know when you’re lying.” He pressed a finger to the spot between my eyebrows. “You get these adorable little wrinkles right here.”

I swatted his hand away. He lost the privilege to touch me the minute he rolled off of me. “So what if I was mad? It doesn’t matter.”

The corner of his eyes tugged with concern. “Of course it does.”

“You rejected me.” I shrugged, and an embarrassed laugh slipped. “I’m kind of used to it. As a matter of fact, I’m over it.”

The person in front of me grabbed their coffee and left, so I moved to place my order.

“She’ll have a large coffee, one sugar and skim,” Beckham said to the guy in the polo shirt, Jimmy, the same guy who had been taking my order all week.

My teeth grounded against each other. Beckham thought he knew me so damn well. Jimmy grabbed a large cup, and I held my hand up.  “That’s not what I want.”

Jimmy froze in place, his dark eyebrows turning down in confusion. He knew as well as Beckham and I that was exactly what I wanted. But, I wasn’t about to stand there, and let Beckham for one damn second think he had me figured out.

“Stop being ridiculous. That’s what you always drink in the morning,” Beckham stated dryly.

I stood defiantly. “Maybe today I want to try something different.”

“Really?” Beckham narrowed his eyes at me, and then turned back to poor Jimmy. “Get her the usual.”

“Jimmy, don’t,” I demanded, halting him in place. “I want a…” I wracked my brain for another type of coffee. I couldn’t just order an extra sugar, or different milk. I needed something more believable. “A latte,” I blurted out.

“Have you ever even had a latte?” Beckham asked with a tilt of his head, and damn him for looking so adorable.

“Yes,” I lied.

“Oh my God. I have a class to get to. Can you make up your damn mind?” some cranky guy in gym shorts and a hoodie called out across the line.

Beckham looked over to Mr. Impatient. “Sorry, dude,” he said, and then turned back to me, his beautiful hazel eyes staring me down trying to make me break.

I tossed my hair over my shoulder, and lifted my nose at him.

“Fine, get her a latte, and I’ll have a large coffee with one sugar and skim,” Beckham said, looking way too pleased with himself.

“Finally,” cranky guy in the back called out, and began a slow, uninterested clap.

Jimmy hesitated a moment, probably expecting us to change our minds again, but when neither one of us argued, he got to work.