Chapter 6 - Becca - Dream Girl
“Oh, and this is just tonight. I will only spend one night with you.” I tell him about my long-standing rule. Usually guys are all for this one, but Johnny looks upset.
He drops his hands from my hair, folding them in his lap. At least he’s being respectful of the no touching rule. I did say he could put his hands on my waist, but that was something new I was trying with him. Usually I tell guys not to touch me at all, just to lay there and let me do everything, and they’re more than happy to oblige. Poor Johnny looks like he was looking forward to touching me, like he’d been waiting for this night his whole life.
Which is stupid, considering we only met a week ago.
“What do you mean ‘one night’?”
“I mean, one night and then we don’t do this again.” I shift and move myself off of his lap. I have a feeling this night is not going to go as I planned when Johnny first kissed me at Alex’s place. My face heats as I snatch my tank from the floor and pull it on roughly, immediately covering it up again with my hoodie. Johnny grabs his beer from the table and takes a big drink. Yeah, not going as planned at all.
Fuck.
“Becca,” Johnny begins, and takes another drink of his beer. He’s looking down at his lap instead of looking at me and I’m reminded of all those times when I was a kid and people would avoid looking at me because of my scars. Calming myself takes more effort than it should, especially considering it’s been thirty years since the accident and I’ve had so much therapy I should know how to deal with it. But the panic always threatens to take me when people look too closely, or, like now, when they don’t look at all.
“I don’t want that,” Johnny says, finally looking up into my eyes. There’s a pain there that I didn’t notice before. “One night isn’t enough for me. You mean more to me than that. I want all of your nights.”
“Ookaaay,” I drawl. I don’t even know what to think about that, really. “That’s all I’m offering. I don’t do more than that.” I’m not telling him why I don’t do more, because that isn’t any of his business. “But we can be friends if you want? It’s not like we won’t be seeing each other occasionally because of Alex and Connor.”
“I mean, yeah, friends is good. Great, even. I was coming here to get to know you better, anyway. I may have come on a little strong at Connor’s place, but I really wasn’t looking to bang you and then fuck off. Not that I minded what we were doing just now. You’re incredible. And so fucking hot,” he growls, almost making me believe he means it. “But I can’t have sex with you tonight, no matter how turned on I am, knowing that it will never happen again.” Johnny stands up, hands me his beer, and takes a step toward the door before turning to face me. “I should get going now. I need a little time to get used to the idea that we’re going to be friends and nothing more.” He gestures to his groin, and adds, “And this guy needs some time to calm down. You are the sexiest woman both of us have ever seen, not to mention you’re one hell of a kisser, and, well, he’s having a hard time adjusting to this new plan.” He turns back and walks to the door and I follow.
“I’m sorry, Johnny,” I say, not sure why I’m apologizing, but it seems like the right thing to do. He seems genuinely sad, as though he really has feelings for me, which baffles me. I mean, he’s hot, and his kisses are like an electric jolt right through me, making me tingle ev-er-y-where, and he’s fun to hang out with, but that doesn’t mean I’m in love with him. Does it?
Nah. Not possible.
“Don’t be sorry. We’ll be friends. It will be great.” He leans forward and kisses me on the corner of my mouth, not quite a friend kiss and not quite a romantic kiss, but tingle inducing nonetheless. The butterflies in my stomach need to calm the hell down. “I’ll call you soon so we can do something, yeah? Actually, let’s do something tomorrow. We’re working on the album for a bit, but why don’t you come over after that? I’ll text you the address.”
I nod my head, words escaping me at the moment. Johnny raps his knuckles on the door frame, releases a breath, and walks away, leaving me standing in the doorway. I watch until he makes it to the stairs before closing and locking the door behind him.
What the fuck just happened?
Did I just throw myself at a man and have him turn me down? Again?
I know he said it’s because he wants more, but old wounds are hard to heal and in my head I can hear the voice of the boy who broke me the first time.
Dropping down onto the couch, I grab what’s left of my beer and down it. I lean back with a huff, forcefully shoving my back against the couch and crossing my arms. A tight burning is working its way through my stomach, scorching all the butterflies, leaving me fidgety and anxious.
I hate remembering that day. It’s the main reason I avoid having a love life.
Milo.
I hate that fucking name.
I hate lots of other names too, but Milo Matthews is the boy who betrayed my trust, and Milo Matthews is the boy who owns most of my ire.
Groaning to myself, I get up, grab myself another beer, and pick up my phone before sitting back down on the couch. I try to distract myself by scrolling mindlessly through TikTok, but no amount of thirst traps and silly dances can distract me from ruminating. My mind is already taking an ill-advised, and unwanted, trip down memory lane, and I’m just along for the ride.
Oh joy.
I had just turned fourteen when Milo first started talking to me. He was a popular kid at school, a fantastic baseball player, and he was generally well-liked by everyone. I was the weird girl who always wore turtleneck sweaters and long pants, no matter the weather. When he sat next to me in the library that first day, I was sure he’d made a mistake. Milo Matthews was not someone who would sit by me voluntarily, and since there were many other seats available, I thought he’d mistaken me for someone else. It was only when he said my name that I actually believed he’d meant to sit with me.
Milo soon became my friend, my only friend. I was always too shy to make friends with anyone before, and no one else had ever reached out to me. Not that I ever expected anyone would. Mom had explained very clearly that my scarring would probably scare all the other kids away, like they had my dad. But I was happy enough alone, I guess. I did a lot of reading, and I took a lot of pictures with the camera my dad had left behind. None of the other kids had paid me much attention, so I was naïve to the ways they could be so cruel to each other.
Turns out my naivety is exactly what Milo was counting on when he befriended me. Because he wasn’t just doing it to be nice. We spent some time together, but he still hung out with his baseball friends and the other popular kids. When he was with them, he treated me the same as they did, which is to say, he ignored me. But when we were one on one, he made me feel so special. He told me I was the girl of his dreams. How could I help but to swoon?
If it hadn’t ended the way it did, I probably would say that Milo was my first boyfriend. He was my first date, my first time holding hands, my first kiss. He probably would have been myfirsttoo, but he wasn’t willing to go that far for the trick he was playing on me.
See, he had never actually liked me. He’d told his friends he was going to figure out why I was always fully clothed, head to toe, and figured the best way to do that would be to pretend to be my boyfriend.
