Other Side of Beautiful (A Beautifully Disturbed #1)

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

  “Why, Brontë? Why would you do that?”

  “Because I have to…because I failed the semester…because someone called Cricket…because, because,” she takes several gulping breaths, “because of you…” Her knees go weak, toppling her to the ground in a heap. Ugliness and disappointment surge through me. Fuck me, she’s leaving because of me? Without even thinking, my arms wrap around her almost as soon as she hits the floor, pressing my cheek to hers.

  “You didn’t fail,” I tell her, to which she looks confused. Rightly so. I talked to all of her professors. Told them she was in the hospital. They all agreed on pass/fail going off the work she’d already turned in. “So see, you don’t have to go anywhere.” My fingers pull at her T-shirt, folding myself tighter around her.

  “Why did you do it, Elle?” The warmth of my lips press gently against her temple, and I feel hot tears glide along the curvature of my cheekbone. But they aren’t my tears. Not until I realize they aren’t, and then they are.

  “There are things that you don’t know about me, Ben.”

  “I’m not talking about the hospital. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” My tone turns low and serious. Somehow, she has to know I’m not talking about that. “Why did you leave me?”

  “You didn’t defend me,” she says so softly I might not have even heard if I hadn’t been right there holding her. But my arms tense. “I was coming to tell you that I’d be in the car. Your dad.” Oh god. I breathe. “He called Collin a fag. And he called me, he called me a hag—fat and ugly—no real man would be seen in public with.”

  “I’m so sorry you heard that, Brontë. So sorry…” My lips brush her temple again.

  “But you didn’t say anything back. I waited. I waited to hear you say he was wrong, that I’m…I don’t know, anything but that. And you didn’t. You didn’t say it.” Then her whole body racks with sobs. “You saw my thighs. I saw your disgust!”

  “Damn it, Elle!” I bury my nose in her hair. “You didn’t wait long enough. I did defend you. My dad’s an ass. We were in a funeral home and my mom was hysterical. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I breathed to calm myself. Someone needed to be rational. And you don’t disgust me. I was shocked, not disgusted.”

  “You broke my heart, Ben.” Her voice breaks my heart.

  “I punched him. I punched my dad and said he was dead to me. I told them both. That I love you, Elle. I told them how beautiful you are. But you, I couldn’t find you. I was so scared. You can’t do that to me again.”

  And I can’t give her the chance to respond. I can’t listen if she still thinks any less of me. Instead, I press my lips to hers. Her hands tug my face, pulling me in deeper into the kiss. I suck her top lip, grazing my teeth against her plump bottom one in turn. A groan escapes my throat, deep, almost threatening. When my mouth parts to take in a breath, her tongue moves in, probing, meeting and tangling with my own. I feel alive for the first time since returning from Indiana. And I’m not about to waste this feeling, scooping her up into my arms, she’s feathers, and move us to the bed. My stomach constricts in nervous anticipation. She still wants me.

  I hover above her, knees straddling her hips. Elle tries to pull me close again but I shake my head. “Tell me you won’t leave. Tell me you’re my girl. Tell me, tell me you still love me, Brontë.” And I drop my head to rest against her chest. She runs her fingers through my hair with her eyes closed.

  “I won’t leave you, Ben, because I am your girl. And I…Oh god, you punched your dad for me? You don’t just affection me?”

  “No. I was too scared to tell you before, but I promise for the rest of our lives you won’t hear anything else.”

  “Then I, then I love you, Benton Hayes.”

  “Say it again,” I whisper.

  “I love you,” she says, and she says it with even more confidence.

  Her hands move to my cheeks, so warm beneath her touch. I turn my head, kissing first the inside of her wrist, moving slowly trailing kisses up her arm. Each kiss calming the worries I’ve clung to for so many weeks now. As my mouth moves up, my hands roam downward reaching the hem of her blouse, finding their way underneath to tease that luscious, skittish flesh. The fabric creeps up her body until I’ve pulled it over her head. Elle arches her back as my hands caress those beautiful, beautiful breasts, moving my hands behind her back to unlatch her bra. She’s exposed.

  “I’m going to look at you.” She knows what I mean. She knows. My hands slide back down her stomach to the button flap of her jeans. I deftly weave my fingers between the fabric and her body, gripping the elastic on her lacy panties, simultaneously peeling them both away. She’s completely naked beneath me. Besides maybe doctors, no one else has seen her so uninhibited, and here she is sharing the moment with me.

  Her breath quickens. My eyes lock with hers. And then they began to wander the length of her. My Brontë, she stiffens. But I bend over kissing the tender skin below her navel. “It’s okay,” I say between kisses, kisses that make me feel completely dizzy. She looks dizzy too. Like she could finally let go and just enjoy this, enjoy me, enjoy us. As I pull away, she watches my eyes look on the patterns of scar tissue splayed across her thighs. She finds them grotesque. I don’t. I really don’t. So I touch them, rub them. But never turn away, never wince. Never give her a reason to doubt me when I tell her, “You are so beautiful.”

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “I do. God, Elle, I do.” My lips make their way back to that pink, tender skin, moving down, slowly moving down. Her fingers rake through my hair as her hips rock against mine, pulling me closer. She can’t keep her eyes open and bites back a scream that teeters at the tip of her tongue, instead releasing a glorious moan.

  I sit up pulling my T-shirt over my head. “God, my Benton, you are a sight for these sore, lonely eyes,” she says, smiling seductively up at me. A sight my heart wants to look upon every day for the rest of my life. Her fingers fumble with the button on my cargo shorts, but we manage to get them undone together. And then they are a memory. She lies back against the bed. I hover above her completely naked too. Baring our bodies. Wanting so badly for her to bare her soul to me. It will come with time. I believe it. And then I don’t believe anything because her legs fall apart, opening up to me, eradicating all rational thought. I kneel between them, reaching over to my shorts tossed across the headboard and pull out my wallet. Then there’s the rip of the foil packet, and she knows. I claim her.

  Every sensation hits me. Body to body. Skin to skin. Her firm kisses press hard against my mouth burning me with passion and desire. I miss her curves, but we’ll get them back eventually. And even if we don’t, I still couldn’t be more in love with this woman and her wet tongue slipping in, tangling with mine, and making me lose my breath as I ease inside her. “Oh, Ben,” she sighs against my lips. I wrap her up in my arms, pushing further in. Her legs involuntarily constrict around my hips. One more good rock has me filling her totally. My body grinds against hers, sparking every level of emotion, firing synapses of pleasure that I never imagined could be possible.

  She works me over with her magic, unraveling me with every thrust, breaking me down with every kiss. Over and over. Over and over as I move, she moves me closer and closer to the brink—to the edge of the universe—or the climax of the best book ever written, until my pulse quickens too fast, until my muscles spasm, until I can’t hold on any longer. She’s right there with me, muscles clamping around me, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. When she cries out my name, it’s the fucking best sound my ears have ever heard. Then she kisses me again, sinking back into her pillow. Pulling me along with her. I still the same time, breathing heavy and shaking slightly, and press my forehead to her shoulder, remaining there several moments before rolling to her side, tucking my beautiful Brontë up under my arm.

  “You can trust me,” I tell her, stroking her hair. “With anything.” I don’t know why I choose those words, but I want her to believe them. Because here
we are. Exactly where I’ve dreamt of us being. Exactly where I doubted we’d ever get to when she left me in Indiana. I will never let her down again.

  “I love you, Ben,” she says again, curling against me.

  Chapter 48

  Elle

  The lightest of knocks brings my focus back to the world around me, and I realize both Ben and I must have dozed off. He lies sleeping beside me under the comforter that I don’t remember wearing before, chest rising and falling peacefully. I slide out from his arm, pausing to drape his T-shirt over myself. When I open the door, Sabrina’s broad, ear to ear smile greets me. “So, hopefully you aren’t moving?” she asks. Her giggling is infectious, spreading airborne to fill my lungs as well.

  “No. You all are stuck with me.” How could I not see it before? I used to assume Kelly was my best friend because she was always around. But it had always been me doing something for her. What could I do for Kelly? What did she need from me? Sabrina, on the other hand, has always been there for me. Unconditionally. “I’m so sorry, Bri.” Now I know, and I need to make sure she knows, so I lunge, hugging her with all the force of a best friend. She hugs back. “Why didn’t you kick me in the shin? Yell at me to pull my head out of my ass? Something?”

  “Because that’s not how it works. Besides, Ben told me a long time ago…for someone so smart, you’re sure a slow learner.”

  “He said that, huh?” She nods. “Well I’m working on that.”

  “No rush, babe.” I feel his heat, his mere presence behind me. I turn to Ben leaning in the doorway, arm stretched above his head holding onto the frame wearing only his cargo shorts, hair mussed like fingers had raked though it. My fingers. He wraps his arms, circling my waist, pulling my back securely against him kissing my neck. My cheeks light on fire. From his touch. From the show we are putting on for our friends.

  “Col’s here,” Sabrina interrupts. “He and Kip. That’s why I knocked. They want to know how, well, how you both are doing. I uh, could go report for you…” She begins to laugh at us again.

  “It’s cool. C’mon, Elle.” Ben leads me by the hand into the living room where Collin, Kip, and Errol sit chatting on the couch. Collin looks up when we enter, moving his eyes over the both of us. He grins. Errol grins. Kip grins. And I don’t even need to look at Sabrina to know she’s still grinning.

  “Sweetheart, you look thoroughly fucked.” I don’t even know how to respond to that. He’s sitting on the sofa holding Kip, and they’re all still watching me like I’m the sideshow freak. “‘Bout damn time,” he says. “You’ve kept our boy waiting far too long. Judging from your appearance, he let you know it too…over and over again.”

  “Oh my god, Collin!” I smooth my hand along my hair, becoming overly conscious of my nakedness underneath Ben’s shirt. “I’m just gonna…” I thumb back toward the room.

  “Need any help with that?” Ben’s eyebrow shoots up suggestively.

  “No! I mean, yes, but…” My eyes dart around the room, stopping briefly at each of our friends.

  “It’s all right,” Sabrina teases. “Not like we didn’t know what was up in there.”

  And that’s my cue. I slide back inside the room, securing the door behind me and stop to take in a few calming breaths before finding my undergarments that we managed to scatter to opposite walls, neither even in reaching distance from the bed. The sound of the door snapping shut catches my attention. I turn to Ben standing with his hands shoved in his pockets.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I guess I’m just not used to…to people knowing my business.”

  He steps closer. “Do you know how sexy you look in my shirt?” Oh, hello trouble. And then there is no space left between us. He lifts me off the floor, my legs wrapping around his waist. His lips crash against mine, desperately wanting, desire infused kisses. My hand gropes for his zipper, feeling his hardness press against me with only that veil of fabric separating us. He does things to my body. The moan that escapes triggers his growl. Then he presses inside me, working me up against the wall, working me good, grinding and grinding.

  “I’m…not…” Breathless, every word struggles from my lips. “On…anything.” My eyes flutter closed as I dig my fingernails into his shoulder blades. He keeps working me, grinding and grinding some more.

  “We should…probably remedy that,” he breathes out just as heavily.

  “Probably Should! Oh God! Oh God…Ben! Yes, yes, yes…oh yes…” My hands shoot from his back to pulling the hair at the nape of his neck. His lungs fill faster and faster. Fast and shallow. He’s close too. Then I feel the rush and he collapses against me, the wall and his body weight, holding me up. What was that? I mean, I know what it was but—“A screamer? You turned me into a screamer?” His nose and his smile trace the column of my neck.

  “I fucking love you, Dinninger.”

  I kiss his forehead before shoving him off. “I have to take a shower. You have to run through the pharmacy. We need an alternate plan, if you get my meaning.” I wink at him. “Seeing as we neglected to cover all our bases.”

  By the time Ben arrives back from the pharmacy, I’ve showered and dressed. Bri managed to pull me from the room somehow. Since realizing while picking out my clothing that all my friends had heard me in there screaming my boyfriend’s name. So I could never face them again. Who does that? Me apparently. But she lured me out by promising that the next time she and Errol had sex she’d be extra loud so we’d be even. I figure that’s the mark of true friendship. We get some pretty interesting looks from Errol and Collin. Kip doesn’t even pretend, laughing and shaking his head at us. Ben hands me the bag, kissing my cheek, spilling onto the cushion next to me on the sectional. Collin eyes him, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

  “What?” Ben asks.

  “Exactly. As in what the hell did you do to get her to scream like that? I’ve known you for too many years and that was something even for you.”

  “Benton needs to teach a class,” Errol jokes.

  “Hell yah he does. I’d make you sign up.” Sabrina winks at me, elbowing Errol. Thank you, I mouth.

  “Jealousy won’t get you anywhere, boys.” Ben reaches over, patting my leg. “The decibels we’ll be breaking next time will have the neighbors pounding on the door.”

  “Okay,” I say, standing. “I have to go take care of this.” I hold the bag up. “Then I need to eat. I’m starving.”

  ***

  Sitting hidden in the corner of ‘our booth’ at The Brew, my little corner of the globe finally feels right—aligned—again when Kip looks up from his coffee. He pulls me onto his lap and squeezes gently. “I’m so damn glad you’re back,” he says. Then he puts a sweet little peck on my cheek, releasing me to scoot back over onto the seat. “Bout freaking time. Do you know how badly we’ve missed you?”

  “I missed you all too. But I’m here now. And that’s what counts.”

  “I have to thank you.” He leans, resting his head against Collin. I know what he’s thanking me for. We’re finally getting our HEAs.

  “Glad to be of service.”

  “Speaking of service, our Benton still has a happy face. Thank you for giving that to him.” Collin looks to me, winking.

  “Oh my god! Is that all you people think about? Maybe they want to know what happened too.” I point to the group of girls sitting at the next table over from ours. So I stand up, in earshot of the surrounding three tables. “Could I have your attention please?” Three surrounding tables look at me. “I, Elle Dinninger, did allow Benton Hayes to perform unspeakable acts of debauchery on me today. Three times. And yes, the man has skills. That is all.” They, my friends, have never laughed so hard as long as I’ve known them. Errol and Sabrina prop each other up. Kip drops his head to the table trying to control it. Collin wipes tears from his eyes. But Benton, Benton smiles at me. His sparkling eyes sway and swell active as tide pools, telling volumes. The other tables look at me with confusion. “Now, I wil
l take my leave to the ladies and try to recover a smidgen of my dignity.” Of course the sounds of their laughter follows me.

  Water splashed on my face, I lean against the sink, slowly patting dry with a paper towel to give them enough time to calm down before I go back out there.

  So what I need to know now is who left the door open? Who let the devil in? Because as I walk back to our table, the devil appears. The devil appears looking exactly like my sister. My sister. My sister. Why? Why here? Why now?

  “Does anyone here know Elly Dinninger?” I hear the devil’s voice rise over the volume of the packed coffee house.

  “Elle!” My friends cheer with coffee cups raised. She moves as gracefully as the serpent that she is over to the only people in the world I care about.

  “How do you know Elle?” Ben asks.

  “She’s my sister.”

  “Oh,” is all he replies. He knows. Our relationship is tenuous at best, and I don’t think we’ve yet to reach best.

  “Dinah,” I say, stepping up behind her. “What do you want?”

  “Mom sent me. She’s pretty upset to have gotten another call.”

  “Cricket’s moods aren’t my concern anymore. Go home—please.”

  “Elly here,” she completely ignores me, “is prone to episodes.”

  I try to laugh it off, but my laugh comes out sounding…forced, hallow, desperate. “Please, Dinah,” I beg. “Please don’t. Just don’t do this to me. You can have her all to yourself—pretend I don’t exist.” Panic starts to rise in my throat.

  A smug smile spreads across her lips. “It’s a rather entertaining story.”

  “We don’t want to hear it,” Ben says back to her. But she ignores him too.

  “Has she ever told you about it? How I found her?”

  “Dinah—please stop!” White-hot tears of anger and disgust—at her and at me—splash down over my red, splotchy cheeks. I want to lunge at her. I want to beat her. I want to run. But I can’t do any of those things. Damage control. Damage control. The laughing didn’t work and I can’t stop her, from humiliating me, from devastating my friends, from revisiting every grisly detail.