Untitled Part 5

Chapter Five

Willow

The disastrous night was becoming okay, even after Beck made the remark about my ass. Then he joked about me going to the dark side, and the ominous words struck a deeply embedded nerve.

God, if he only knew how right he was, he wouldn't be here.

Guilt about my new job rose over my head, drowning me in shame, and I bolted from the car. As soon as I stepped foot into the apartment, though, I wished I never left Beck's car.

I wished I never had to.

"Holy shit! Look at my daughter, everyone!" my mom shouts the second she spots me standing in the trashed kitchen. Her eyes are bloodshot, and she's wearing nothing but a leather mini skirt and a red lacy bra as she stands in the middle of the room, twisting. "She's turning into a little slut!"

I glance down at my clothes and wince. Shit! I forgot I was wearing my uniform.

I tug on the bottom of the hoodie as eyes fixate on me. Most of the people in the room are men twice as old as me, but the age difference doesn't stop them from ogling me with their bloodshot eyes.

"Just like her mama!" a taller man with hairy as fuck arms shouts, fist-pumping the air.

They all laugh. Even my mom.

She continues laughing as she twirls and twirls around in the center of the messy kitchen. Empty whiskey and beer bottles cover the brown countertops, the linoleum floor is littered with cigarette butts, and pieces of broken glass are scattered across the table, from what I'm guessing used to be a crack pipe. Before I left for work, I cleaned the place spotless. Ten hours later, it looks like a crack house, and maybe it is. I really don't know anymore.

I want to run away, go back to Beck, and let him take me to his house, put me in his bed, and fall asleep in the peaceful bliss of comfort and quiet. But two things stop me: One, the promise I made to myself to stop relying on him so much. And two, I don't feel comfortable leaving my mom alone in this condition. When I was younger, I used to all the time, but now I'm older and better understand the severity of the situation.

Taking a measured breath, I squeeze past people, slapping hands away that brush against my ass, and push my way up to my mom.

"How much have you had to drink tonight?" I ask her loudly over the music.

She stops spinning, swaying tipsily from side to side. "Oh, I haven't had anything to drink tonight."

I watch her worriedly as she zigzags toward the fridge.

"Then what did you take?"

She shrugs, yanking the door open. "A few things ... Don't worry, though. I feel completely fine. Great, actually." She smiles at me to prove her point. The problem is, her point is lost in the droopiness of her eyes and how big her pupils are dilated.

"Maybe we should tell people to go home," I suggest. "It's really late, and the neighbors might make a complaint again."

She waves me off, ducking her head to look inside the fridge. "Those neighbors moved out, like, a month ago. And all I have to say is good riddance. They were ruining the unwritten rules of this apartment."

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as someone moves up behind me. "What rules?"

"The keep your mouth shut rules." She grabs a beer from a six-pack in the fridge, which is pretty much the only thing in there. "Where the hell did all the food go? I thought you went grocery shopping."

"I did a few days ago." I shuffle forward as my personal space gets stolen away. "And there was way more food in there when I left for work."

"Well, you should probably go again because there really isn't much left." She closes the fridge and faces me, unscrewing the lid off the bottle. "Where do you work, anyway? And why are you dressed like that?"

"You mean like a slut?" I ask with bitterness, wrapping my arms around myself.

A drop of remorse emerges in her dazed eyes. "I'm sorry about that, sweetie. I was caught in the moment. I get that way sometimes."

When I was younger, I latched on to her apologies and the rare moments when she resembled the mother I had before my dad left. Now I understand that most of the time, she's either trying to butter me up because she wants something, or she's blazed out of her mind.

"It's fine," I lie, ramming my elbow into the guy behind me. He curses and calls me some not-so-nice names, but thankfully, backs off. Still, the confrontation makes me feel out of control and breathless, and not in the good kind of way, like when I sometimes look into Beck's eyes and feel like I'm spinning out of control. "But I still think maybe you should ask everyone to leave."

"Nah, the fun's just getting started." She downs a swig of the beer then steps toward me. "Don't worry. We probably won't stick around for very much longer. There's supposed to be live music down at the corner bar. We'll probably go check that out."

"Please don't drive," I plead. "Take the bus or walk, okay?"

"Of course." Her dismissive tone leads me to believe she's lying. And she already has a revoked license because of too many DUIs.

Once she leaves the kitchen to do shots with her friend Darla in the living room, I sneak into her bedroom and steal her keys out of her purse before heading for my bedroom. On my way down the crowded hallway, a guy smirks and reaches for me.

"Look, it's a mini-Paula," he tells one of his friends.

I smack his hand away, my heart an erratic mess. "I'm nothing like my mother."

Then I glance down at my clothes, painfully reminded of what I was doing only hours ago.

Maybe I am.

Tears flood my eyes as I shove the guy away, run into my room, and lock the door. Then I peel my clothes off and change into my pajamas, wishing I could take a shower and wash tonight off me. But the last thing I want to do is go into that madness again.

Before I climb into bed, I receive a text from Beck.

Beck: Just want to make sure you're okay before I take off. Things sound pretty intense in there ...

I tiptoe over to the window and peer out, wondering if he's still out there. I spot his BMW almost instantly. It stands out here like a cheerleader at a Goth club. Strangely, though, a Mercedes is parked beside Beck

's car.

Two fancy cars in one night. So weird.

I wouldn't think too much of it, but here, I worry some rich drug dealer is inside, staking out my apartment because my mom owes them money.

It wouldn't be the first time that's happened.

Fear lashes through me, causing my heart to pound violently in my chest. I want to confess everything to Beck, admit I want him to come inside, throw me over his shoulder, and carry me out of this hellhole. I want him to save me. On my way, I'd tell my mom I'm never coming back. And I'd mean it. I wouldn't care.

The problem is I do care about my mom, even if I don't want to. And besides, asking Beck to save me isn't what I want. I want to be able to save myself. I want to be a strong person who doesn't break when they're alone.

You can handle this. You've done it a thousand times.

Me: Yep, I'm fine. It's not as noisy in my room. And I have the door locked, so no one will bother me. Thanks for the ride, Beck. I really do appreciate everything you do.

He doesn't reply, and I lie down in bed, staring at the snow globe collection my father gave me before he left. They are the only items I have left that are connected to him since my mom pawned off everything else he left behind.

Front and center is the snow globe Beck gave me after he came back from Paris. It's my favorite one because it came from him. Beck is my favorite person in the entire world, and knowing that is scary.

Tumbling, falling, out of control—that's how I feel when I'm around him.

I like him too much.

I try to convince myself that Beck's silence is for the best. Maybe he's finally giving up on being my knight in shining armor. The stinging ache in my heart has nothing to do with the fact that maybe, just maybe, he's finally moving on. Still, my heart twinges.

I rub my hand across my chest, willing the pain away as I lie in my bedroom, battling sleep.

About ten minutes into the battle, a light tap hits my window. I don't budge, terrified I was correct about the drug lord.

The tapping happens repeatedly, and then my phone hums with an incoming message.

Beck: Would you please just come to your window? I can see through the curtains, so I know you're awake.

My gaze darts to the window as I climb out of bed.

Padding across my room, I pull back the curtains, seeing Beck smiling at me, his posture stiff.

"What are you doing out there?" I ask as I slide open the window.

"Making you a real, live princess," he jokes, tossing a glance over his shoulder at the parking lot.

"How does this make me a real, live princess?"

"Because I'm your Prince Charming, here to rescue you." He motions for me to move. "Now move back so I can climb in."

I want to argue, but loud music and yelling makes me easily step back.

Lowering his head, he ducks inside then straightens, brushing some dirt off his sleeve.

"This is very chivalrous of you," I tease, nervous.

While Beck does make me feel safe, he hasn't been in my bedroom in ages, a room that's probably about as big as his closet and smells like stale cigarettes. The whole apartment does.

"I'm just glad you weren't on the second floor." He scans the bare walls and my unmade bed. When his eyes land on my snow globe collection, he smiles. "Mine's in the front."

For some dumb reason, my cheeks heat like he just discovered a dirty little secret or something.

"It's my favorite one," I say to cover up my mortification.

His smile grows as he lightly taps my nose. "Good. I'm glad."

I return his smile, feeling a little lost. "I don't mean for this to sound rude, but why are you here?"

His smile disappears. "Because I couldn't bring myself to drive away and leave you alone in this shit."

"It's fine," I lie. "It's not anything I haven't dealt with before."

"That doesn't make it right." He wanders around my room, looking at my locked bedroom door and then at my bed again. "I have some work stuff to do really early, but I want to stick around for a few hours if that's okay with you. At least until the party dies down."

"I'm not sure if it will die down. It might. But sometimes, my mom can keep it up for days."

"Well, I'll stay as long as I can."

I fiddle with the hem of my short pyjama bottoms, glad the lamp offers limited lighting. "You really don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to, but I want to." He plops down on my bed and leans over to untie his boots.

"What are you doing?" I squeak like an idiot.

He peers up at me with amusement dancing in his eyes. "Taking off my shoes."

I remain near the open window, terrified of getting any closer to him as memories of the last time we were alone in a bedroom storm through my mind. "But why?"

"I figured I'd lie down with you until you fall asleep." Once he gets his shoes off, he sits up and reaches for the hem of his long-sleeved shirt.

My breath lodges in my throat as I watch him pull it over his head. Then I try not to frown disappointedly at the T-shirt he has on underneath.

When he notices me staring, he presses his lips together as he drops the shirt onto the floor. I worry he can read my dirty thoughts all over my face, so I hastily look away from his chest.

"This is okay, right?" he asks. "I don't want to make you nervous. That's kind of the opposite of my intentions."

"You're fine." Deciding to stop being a coward, I force my feet forward and make my way to the bed. "It's just weird having you in my room."

"Why?" He slides over, so I can sit down beside him. "You've been in mine a thousand times. You've even slept there."

"I know." I tuck my hands underneath my legs. "But I like going to your place. This isn't the kind of place anyone likes to go. Well, except for my mom's trashy friends."

He unbuckles his belt. "I don't mind being here. Sure, I'd way rather us be at my place or somewhere else that's safe, but I like being around you. You should know that by now." He slips his belt off and drops it to the floor.

So much clothing coming off. When will he stop?

Hopefully never.

I dropkick that thought from my brain and scoot back onto the bed toward the headboard.

"You really think you can sleep through all the yelling and music?"

"I'm not going to sleep." He stands up and pulls off his T-shirt, tossing it to the floor. "I'm just going to lie down next to you until you fall asleep."

Holy flutterville all freakin' mighty.

I try not to gawk. I really do. Yet my gaze strays a few times to his lean chest and solid abs.

Finally, I manage to fix my attention elsewhere as I pull back the covers and climb under them.

"That doesn't sound like much fun for you."

His eyes sparkle with amusement as he lies down beside me and pulls the blanket over us. "You have no idea how wrong you are."

I want to ask him what he means, but the fierceness in his expression keeps my lips zipped.

I roll onto my side, and he does the same, so we're facing each other. We aren't quite touching, but close enough that his body heat and scent engulf me.

Music and shouting fill up the quietness between us, along with my shallow breathing.

"Are you nervous?" he asks unexpectedly. "I can lie on the floor."

I want to nod, but I shake my head. There's no way I'm making him lie on the floor.

"You're fine. It's just the noise. You'd think, after almost a decade and a half of listening to this crap, it'd get easier, but it never does."

He contemplates something then slowly scoots toward me and lowers his forehead against mine, resting his hand on my hip. "Close your eyes. I'll make sure you stay safe."

I suck in a trembling breath but don't move back, obeying him and shutting my eyes. My heartbeat soars to hummingbird speed, my adrenaline spiralling. I'm so wired I don't know how I'll ever fall asleep. Yet, moments later, my heart quiets, and I sink into wonderful dreams filled with stuff I'd never dare do in reality.