“Is everything okay?” I ask without even saying hello. Smooth.
She giggles at me through the line. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because you don’t ever call.”
“We should really remedy that.”
We don’t even like each other half of the time. I’m nice to her for Elle’s sake and because I kind of feel sorry for her—those issues again. “What do you need, Kel?”
“Well, Elly and I are heading to Chicago on Friday for Pop Fest.” I don’t like the way she’s still calling her Elly when Elle feels so uncomfortable with the name. Still, I’m determined to keep my cool here and answer back instead, “You’re getting Elle to Pop Fest?”
“She’s doing it for me. She does what I ask. It’s how we work.” Okay, I don’t like that either. It sounds like she’s being taken advantage of, and not in the way I’d like to take advantage. “So anyway, I thought you’d like to come with.”
“Yes.” The word leaves my mouth before I even have time to contemplate why she’s asking me. The woman just gave me my in. Me and Elle in Chicago. At the end of this she’s either going to be my girl or shut me down. And the second I can’t accept as a plausible reality. “What time?” I ask.
Kelly tells me we leave at five, after Elle’s last class of the day. Now I have another hurdle to jump. The one where I head back home with my tail between my legs and beg my best friend to forgive my stupidity.
I head back toward civilization, making a quick pit stop at a liquor store for Col’s favorite imported beer. It’s expensive but clearly I have some sucking up to do.
About halfway home from the liquor store, I start to pass a little bakery which makes these mini sausage, kale, and mushroom quiches which I know he loves too, and swerve hard without braking, getting a whole lot of horn and middle fingers from the people passing me. It’s so early in the morning that they’re actually open now. A dozen fresh from the oven quiche later, I pull into my parking spot. Kip’s car is still out front. That’s good. Col shouldn’t have been alone.
He’s not in the living room, but I hear voices coming from his bedroom. They’re just soft murmuring voices, nothing hot and heavy. And without giving myself time to think or back out, I push the door open, striding in like nothing about the situation is odd.
Collin and Kip are lying on the bed talking and certainly don’t expect me to climb on but I do, crawling between them, setting the box of tarts next to Col, the six pack I drop on his crotch. He grunts, sitting up fast and grabs his junk. I flip around to lean my back against the headboard.
“So beer and quiche are supposed to make everything better?”
“No. The quiche is to soften you up. The beer is to get you drunk enough to forgive my stupid ass. I have my phone ready to record your forgiveness. That way when you’re sober and don’t remember, you can’t renege.”
“Well…they are really good quiche.”
“Col, I am so damn sorry. You have to know how embarrassed I am.”
“Everyone gets stupid once in a while. This was your one for the decade. Don’t let it happen again because that face is far too pretty, and I will mess your shit up.”
After leaning over to hug Col, I turn to Kip who really doesn’t expect me and hug him too. “Thank you. For being there, for taking care of him.” Kip nods, and I can tell he wants to say something more, but he won’t do that to Col. He hasn’t been around long enough to drop his two cents in on this conversation. I certainly hope he stays around. Collin deserves someone to care for him that way.
“So what are we doing about Elle?” He hands Kip off a quiche and beer, then hands me one of each.
“I have a plan.” We twist off our caps and clink our bottles.
I have a plan.
Chapter 10
Elle
I couldn’t face Benton after Wednesday night, which unfortunately meant I had to keep my distance from everyone else as well. Which is really hard. I hate not seeing their smiling faces. These people are the closest people to me in the world. But at least Kelly knows now. I spilled my guts to her about the bar when I got home that night. Cleaned up first, but spilled. She had a terrible, spiteful look about her, jaw ticking as she sat in front of the television with her arms crossed over her chest. Kel wouldn’t make eye contact with me as I passed her for my room. There’s me, all crusty snot and blood spatter—dirty, confused, and slightly irrational—and she pretended like she didn’t see me. After a quick shower and slipping into my pajamas, I went out to face her. She was just leaving the kitchen. Her expression was unreadable. I knew I had to tell her something, plus she carried a fresh package of crack that she waved temptingly in front of my face. And by crack, I mean Oreos.
Friday, during my two hour break from classes, instead of heading down to The Brew where I’d normally go, or even back to the apartment, I decide to go for a walk. It’s peaceful. It’s cold, the biting wind keeping the smarter students inside bundled up. I don’t mind so much. As a writer, I’ve spent my fair share of time alone. It’s what we do, always inside our own heads, figuring out worlds better than our own.
The bench sitting in the middle of the quad, nestled between the shrubberies, would catch the attention of anyone having the slightest bit of artistic soul, with the normally flat black glistening gray under the fine sheen of frost covering its entire surface. Part of me feels bad for marring the natural beauty, but after swiping my hand across the seat, I sit anyway.
What would I do if I couldn’t go back to group anymore? My sanctuary threatened, I contemplate just that, sinking deeper against the cold metal. He sounded so hurt. The man punched out another human being, turned it into an outright bar brawl to protect me. Benton Hayes acted like a true friend, and I didn’t even have the courtesy to thank him for that. No, I thanked him for turning up the heat. My chances are running out. One of these days he’ll realize how unworthy of his friendship I’ve been all these years and tell me to go take that really long walk off a really short pier. Clichéd? Absolutely. But that doesn’t make it any less true.
“Elle, you look like someone shot your dog, revived it, and then shot it again for shits and giggles.”
I bark out an obnoxious laugh, covering my mouth to try to stifle it. Collin. Goodness, I’ve missed him these past couple of days. But being Benton’s best friend could make our meeting problematic, to say the least. He sought me out for something.
Collin strides up to me in his black leather jacket and aviator sunglasses, wearing an equally delicious boy-toy. He has his arm draped over the more conservative yet stunning man with hazel eyes and dark chocolate hair spiked at the bangs. Unlike Collin’s black leather jacket, the man wears a deep gray wool peacoat, along with a smile that could write its own peace accord and have everyone happily agree to the terms.
Like Benton, Collin usually keeps his love life away from us because he too owns a serial dater’s club card.
The men come to a stop in front of me, Boy-toy holding his hand out to me. I raise an eyebrow at Collin, but shake it just the same.
“Kip Daniels,” he introduces himself. Sexy, deep voice. Collin could do worse.
“You’re gorgeous.” It slips out unintentionally. “I mean, I’m Elle. Dinninger,” I amend.
“Thank you. And I know. I’ve been waiting to meet you. The elusive Elle Dinninger.”
Elusive? Even the new guy’s got my number? Collin pulls off the sunglasses to look at me, his left eye has a cut above it, and the whole thing looks black and blue. Someone landed a good punch Wednesday night. “I’d hate to see the other guy,” I tease, pointing to the bruise.
“You won’t be seeing him for a while. Why have you been hiding from us?”
“I haven’t been—you’re right. I’ve been hiding.”
“Sabrina said you won’t answer your phone, and you haven’t returned a damn text I’ve sent.”
“Does he hate me?” I hang my head, not wanting to see the truth in his eyes despite what he
might try to convince me of.
“Hate you? Elle, he could never hate you. Is he hurt? Sure. But Ben’s a big boy, he’ll get over it.”
“So you came here to make me feel even worse?”
“You asked. I came here for you to meet Kip.”
“He said if I could pass the Elle Dinninger test then we could date,” Kip says.
My head snaps up. “Date? As in an ongoing thing?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. It happens.”
“Not for you. Or for Benton. There must be something in the water at your apartment.”
“Well, things might be changing for him as well. So the water must be purified now.”
“Wow. He met his Ms. Right, then?” I shake my head, disbelieving. “Good for him. So, Kip.” The subject has to change before I lose it again. Benton in a real relationship hurts my head and my heart in a way I don’t want either of them to know. “What’s your major?”
“RPW.”
“You’re a technical writer? Jesus, Collin, you’re slipping. Might as well have said he’s a finance major.” They both laugh at me even though I’m not totally kidding. RPW majors are usually droll little people who lack senses of humor or…talent. “What’s an oxford comma?”
“I have no idea.”
“He’s doing bad, Collin.”
“Ly,” Kip corrects. “Badly.” And the smile breaks so big across my face they might have seen it from space.
“You, sir, are my new best friend.”
“Was that the test?”
Collin puffs his chest out, so cute. “Elle here is a grammar badass, and she will judge you severely for grammatical indiscretions. Then it’s just a downward spiral. She’ll find fault in everything about you. The fact that you had the guts to correct her on your first meeting speaks volumes. People are normally intimidated by her piercings and surly demeanor.”
“Hey! I resemble that remark.” When we all start laughing, it’s the lightest I’ve felt since the bar Wednesday night. “So I guess you’re dating now?”
“I guess we are,” Collin says, mouthing a thank you to me and bends down to kiss the top of my head. “We should get going then.”
I nod, glad someone will be enjoying their Friday. “Wait, how did you know I’d be here?”
Collin doesn’t answer me back, just turning to smile that ‘I know something you don’t’ smile of his. Damn him. “Do absolutely everything I wouldn’t do,” I shout after them.
“Return a damn call,” Collin calls back, his arm slung around Kip’s shoulder again. My heart swells with something, giddiness maybe, at seeing them together.
When I pull up in front of our apartment after my last class, Kelly had been watching from the front window and runs out to my car with a bag in her hand.
“Go put something on,” she orders.
“What? Why? Nice to see you too by the way.”
“Chicago. Pop Fest, remember?”
“That’s tonight?”
“Yes. Now hurry.”
“I don’t know. I have a paper to get done.”
“You promised. We already bought the tickets.” I was going to say yes anyway, but then she hits me with, “Don’t prove Cricket right.” Ouch. The lowest blow she could have ever slung at me. She knows the right cards to play.
Ten minutes after Kel shuffled me into the apartment, I’ve finished up packing my overnight bag and taken the quickest shower of my life. Before rushing back outside to a very antsy Kelly, I change into the same black skinny jeans I wore on New Year’s and the booties Kelly had loaned me which I still haven’t given back. What? They’re more comfortable than I imagined. Before heading out, I throw on a fitted camo T-shirt and an olive green waist length jacket.
Even though she honked the horn fifteen times in the time it took to get ready, I love Kelly for taking me from here for the weekend. As I start to pull away, my back door flies open. Startled, I slam on the brakes. Benton slips in and shuts the door. Um.
“Looked like you were leaving without me,” he says breathless, buckling his seatbelt.
“I was. No one told me you were coming. Sorry.”
“I thought I had.” Kelly outright lies. “But I’m so glad you could make it, Benton.”
“Yeah, me too. It should be fun,” he says.
“If you need anything back there, just let me know. I had such a late night last night, I’m going to take a nap so I’m ready for tonight.” After Kelly closes her eyes, we don’t hear from her again.
“You don’t like pop music.” It isn’t even a question.
He leans up, resting his elbows against the front headrests on both mine and Kelly’s seats. The vintage blue Pac-Man T-shirt he wears stretches across his chest. So sexy, I keep sneaking glances at him through the rearview mirror. “No,” he answers.
Merging onto I94, I ask him, “Then why did you want to come?”
“Kelly called and asked. Call it my opportunity.”
Disappointment. Disappointment as everything clicks. Benton helping me take Kel to the car on New Year’s. Worrying about her drinking. He constantly asks me how she’s doing. And Collin had suggested Benton found his Ms. Right. Of course he blindsided me. I mean, he’s never even asked her out. Kelly is as beautiful as they come, but I never saw this coming. The two of them together just doesn’t make any sense. She’s high maintenance. He’s laid back. Where she’s all about the party, he’s dedicated in his pursuit of the written word. The two of them are like that Taylor Swift song. Incarnate.
Worse, she invited him knowing full well how I feel about him. So I don’t want it to make sense. Selfish, I know. If Kelly is who he really wants, who am I to get in the way? But I also know hanging around the two of them as a couple just can’t happen, at least not until I’ve moved on. Suddenly, being trapped in Chicago with the two of them has really lost its appeal.
“You going to PWMA this year?” Benton asks, casually leaning back in the seat. He’s a sight to behold, sprawled out in the most comfortable way someone his height could adjust to in my tiny clown car. Wow, I have to get control of these thoughts if he wants to be with Kelly. Coveting your best friend’s boyfriend will forever be a no-no in my book.
“Brontë, still with me?”
The writing conference, right. “I want to. It depends on if I can find a roommate. The room is too expensive on my own. That and travel. You and Col are going?”
“Yeah, we just booked our room. Bri and Errol are going too.”
“I have ‘til March, right?”
“It falls over spring break.”
We don’t speak after that. He settles in the backseat, wearing headphones to help him concentrate on homework so he can enjoy the weekend, while I stay focused on the road.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder of the center console. Cricket. Not today. I hit decline and continue driving, though my mind fixates on what she might be calling about, calling so soon. We usually go at least a month between her hate-fueled checkins. Just to be safe, I turn the ringer off completely.
All thoughts of Cricket get shoved into the trunk and locked away for later once we descend on the Second City, which in my opinion is second to no one, because when the lights of the downtown hit, they hit big. That moment when you first see the skyline, especially at night, there are no words. Of course, I can always find plenty of words for parking—the majority rhyming with pluck. It takes us fifteen minutes to find an empty spot. Most of the lots close by are filled already, and with an hour before the doors open to stand in line out front of the Metro in the frigid Chicago winter. And Kelly didn’t bring a coat. Her ass cheeks hang out the bottom of her flaming red skirt and the black corset pushes her boobs up to her neck, but no coat.
Prince Charming shrugs out of his camo army jacket, draping it around her shoulders. The duck fabric hangs past her knees while he shivers in just a gray hoodie he’d put on before getting out of the car. It’s like a giant frat party with all the pretty boys and prettier girls
as underdressed as Kel waiting to get in. I want to scold each and every one of them for their poor life choices. As far as atmosphere, it reminds me of New Year’s in Times Square, the more people in line pushing toward the front, the more body heat warms the air around us. Finally the line surges forward, splitting into two lines up by the door—one for people with tickets in hand, and one for those like us who’d bought them online. Our names sit closer to the top of a list a blue-haired chick checks off as we flash her our IDs.
Inside smells of funk and piss and weed. I grab both Benton’s and Kelly’s hands, leading them about halfway to the stage off to the left. Pop Fest might not be my scene, but I’ve been to a couple concerts here before. If they can trust anything about me, it has to be my skill in the concert-going arts. Our spot is choice, with a small, raised platform, most likely covering up an old radiator and perfect for setting our stuff down on, so long as we stay close.
Kel peels off the coat, tossing it back to Benton to hold. With all the body heat already pressing in against us, he folds it, laying the coat on the radiator platform. She is definitely in her element, putting on a show for Benton and the other men ogling her. Hands in her hair, she sways her hips seductively to the overhead music. At one point she turns around, grinding her butt against Benton’s thigh. When he smiles and shakes his head, I imagine like he can’t believe his luck, and I have to get away from them just to clear my head enough so that my raging green-eyed monster doesn’t ruin the weekend for all of us.
“I’m heading for the bar before the show starts,” I tell them. “Beer?” Kelly smiles at me, still playing her part. I don’t know if Benton’s still watching Kel, but he doesn’t answer me, so I leave for the opposite side of the room, pushing through the tightly woven mass of the drunk and drunker. Somebody must have been Pop Fest tailgating.
Other Side of Beautiful (A Beautifully Disturbed #1) Page 6
