Beth rolls her eyes. “We’re not ‘best friends.’ He noticed me in class and he wanted to introduce himself, but he’s shy, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Hence the staring.”
Again, not buying it. “He was standing outside your fucking dorm.”
“You don’t know that’s why he was there. He could have been visiting someone else and just stopped to smoke a cigarette. He could live at Standman, for all I know. Look, I know he’s a little awkward, but you know what? So am I, David.”
“You’re only awkward in the best possible ways,” I tell her honestly.
Her pink little bow of a mouth stretches into a small, sweet smile. “Please give him a chance,” she pleads. She peeks over her shoulder, satisfied that Brody at least seems to be feigning interest in whatever the fuck Liz is going on about. “His mom was sick and he transferred to be closer to home to take care of her. But she died over the summer. He’s all alone.” Beth’s voice cracks and her eyes shine, and it tugs at my chest.
And at the same time my stomach rolls with nausea. It hits too close to home.
Yet I don’t let Brody’s history sway my opinion of him. Because his story may be true, or it could be a fabricated tale concocted to play on Beth’s considerable sympathies. But either way, experiencing tragedy doesn’t make you a good person.
I sigh. “I still don’t trust him, Bea.”
“I know. But just give him a chance. Okay, David? Please?”
Fuck this girl and her angelic, pleading eyes. Fuck the way she says my name—the only person alive who calls me David instead of Dave. She will be the end of me. “Fucking fine,” I mutter with blatant reluctance.
A few of my boys join us at the bar, and Lani and Derek start sucking face in a booth. I elbow Beth until she notices and lets out a sharp giggle. I smirk. “I’m going to the bathroom. Stay with my boys, okay?”
Beth nods her agreement, but I still whisper to Drew to look after her until I get back, careful she doesn’t overhear. I don’t need another argument about how she’s not a kid. I couldn’t be more aware of the fucking fact. That’s the whole problem. Because this isn’t a crowd where you have to worry about kids, but gorgeous, naïve girls with big open hearts—they’re another story.
I push past the line to the girl’s bathroom, into the mostly empty men’s room. On my way back, I stop by the quieter end of the bar and order two more beers. But when I get eyes back on Beth, and I catch her deer-in-headlights expression, I stop short.
The fuck?
Drew stands beside her, looking confused—obviously not doing his goddamned job. I didn’t order him to just stand the fuck around. I catch sight of the fucking dipshit who broke her heart, and immediately start pushing my way back through the crowd to get to her.
“…Come on, Bethy, I just want to talk. You owe me that, at least.”
Drew just fucking stands there, but Brody steps in. “Look, man, I don’t know who the fuck you are, but I’ll tell you one thing—not a single girl here owes you a damned thing, least of all Beth. So I suggest you back the fuck off.” His arms flex in warning.
Well at least he’s good for something.
Falco swallows anxiously, but ignores Brody. “Bethy—”
I make it to them before he can finish whatever pathetic bullshit he can spew, and I grab his elbow and spin him around.
“Back. The fuck. Off.” My threat isn’t loud, but it is fervent. I’ve been struggling with pent-up aggression all night, and Falco is my ideal target. It’s been too long since I’ve felt the satisfaction of my fist slamming into his jaw.
The bastard takes a step back from Beth. “I just wanted to talk to her.”
“You had years to do that, asshole. Time’s fucking up.”
He shoots me a contemptuous glare. Yeah, he hates me, but he knows he’s the bad guy in this situation, even if my hands aren’t exactly clean. And suddenly my gut rolls with the fear that he could talk to her at some point—he could tell her everything. And then what? Would she ever forgive me?
Beth watches silently as Brian retreats. The look on her face makes my chest ache. She looks…lost.
I wait for her to register some reaction. For those eyes to narrow in anger, or dampen with tears—for an outburst…anything.
But she just stands there, frozen, her full lower lip trembling as if she’s seen a ghost. And I guess, in a way, she has. She knew Falco was here at school with us, but does knowing a ghost is real make seeing it any less fucking fucked up? And Beth has already had her share of fucked up.
Lani is asking Beth what happened, Lani who has retracted her tongue from Derek’s throat long enough to make her way over to her friend. “Are you okay?” she asks.
“Are you okay?” Brody asks.
Are you okay, are you okay, are you okay. What a stupid fucking question. Because I don’t know what Beth is right now, but okay isn’t it.
