Me (New Adult Erotic Romance) (Perfect Chaos #1)

by Marie York

  He went to say something, but I gave him an evil glare, and he decided against it, walking out the door. I slammed it behind him, curled into bed, and like a pathetic loser, cried myself to sleep.

  Chapter 5

  It was my first Friday away from home, and the only thing I wanted to do was go out and forget about Beckham. There was one surefire way to do that. I was going to hook up with another guy. Prove to myself that the one guy from my past wasn’t the only one who could give me goose bumps from a single touch.

  “Let’s go out tonight,” I said to Erica who was combing her light brown hair into a ponytail.

  She turned from the mirror as she secured the hair band. “I thought you’d never ask. There’s a club, Star Room, in town. I hear it’s a good time. Hot guys, lots of dancing, and a good DJ. You have a fake I.D., right?”

  “Of course.” Luckily, I got one a couple of months ago from a friend of a friend. It hadn’t let me down yet.

  Erica jumped up from the floor where she was sitting, and smoothed down her yellow top. “Awesome. How about we head out around ten?”

  Up until three months ago, ten was an hour before my curfew. Being able to go out wherever and whenever I wanted was thrilling. “Sounds perfect.”

  I grabbed my bag, and gave a wave to Erica, giving myself enough time to grab a cup of coffee on my way to class.

  As usual, the line for coffee was a mile long. I happily took my place at the end, and checked my phone while I waited. I had a text from Mom, checking in, and sent a quick one back, assuring her I hadn’t developed a drug habit, or wasn’t lying face down in a ditch somewhere.

  I tucked my phone back in my bag, and spotted Beckham walking toward me. I’d been able to go three days avoiding him and now I had no choice but to face him.

  “Good morning, Kenny,” he said, coming to a stop behind me, and getting a few dirty looks from people who had been waiting just as long as me.

  “Becky,” I retorted, refusing to glance in his direction.

  He bumped his elbow into my arm. “Still mad at me?”

  “I’m not mad.” I was many things, but mad wasn’t one of them. Disappointed. Humiliated. Upset. And I guess a little mad, but not at him, at myself for foolishly, again, thinking that Beckham Fox would actually want me.

  No, screw that. I was mad at him. I was pissed that he made me believe he wanted it as much as I did. I saw the look in his eyes. The way his breathing picked up as his head leaned in to mine.

  “Ken, I’ve known you forever, and I know when you’re lying.” He pressed a finger to the spot between my eyebrows. “You get these adorable little wrinkles right here.”

  I swatted his hand away. He lost the privilege to touch me the minute he rolled off of me. “So what if I was mad? It doesn’t matter.”

  The corner of his eyes tugged with concern. “Of course it does.”

  “You rejected me.” I shrugged, and an embarrassed laugh slipped. “I’m kind of used to it. As a matter of fact, I’m over it.”

  The person in front of me grabbed their coffee and left, so I moved to place my order.

  “She’ll have a large coffee, one sugar and skim,” Beckham said to the guy in the polo shirt, Jimmy, the same guy who had been taking my order all week.

  My teeth grounded against each other. Beckham thought he knew me so damn well. Jimmy grabbed a large cup, and I held my hand up. “That’s not what I want.”

  Jimmy froze in place, his dark eyebrows turning down in confusion. He knew as well as Beckham and I that was exactly what I wanted. But, I wasn’t about to stand there, and let Beckham for one damn second think he had me figured out.

  “Stop being ridiculous. That’s what you always drink in the morning,” Beckham stated dryly.

  I stood defiantly. “Maybe today I want to try something different.”

  “Really?” Beckham narrowed his eyes at me, and then turned back to poor Jimmy. “Get her the usual.”

  “Jimmy, don’t,” I demanded, halting him in place. “I want a…” I wracked my brain for another type of coffee. I couldn’t just order an extra sugar, or different milk. I needed something more believable. “A latte,” I blurted out.

  “Have you ever even had a latte?” Beckham asked with a tilt of his head, and damn him for looking so adorable.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “Oh my God. I have a class to get to. Can you make up your damn mind?” some cranky guy in gym shorts and a hoodie called out across the line.

  Beckham looked over to Mr. Impatient. “Sorry, dude,” he said, and then turned back to me, his beautiful hazel eyes staring me down trying to make me break.

  I tossed my hair over my shoulder, and lifted my nose at him.

  “Fine, get her a latte, and I’ll have a large coffee with one sugar and skim,” Beckham said, looking way too pleased with himself.

  “Finally,” cranky guy in the back called out, and began a slow, uninterested clap.

  Jimmy hesitated a moment, probably expecting us to change our minds again, but when neither one of us argued, he got to work.

  Beckham crossed his arms over his chest, causing his muscles to bulge, and stretch his shirtsleeves. I licked my lips as my head betrayed me, and started thinking of all the ways he could hold me, pick me up, and have his way with me.

  I shook my head as if that would help push the thoughts away. Jimmy put my latte down, and I snatched it up, throwing a five down on the counter. “For both coffees,” I announced.

  Jimmy took the five in his hand, but didn’t head to the register.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s five sixty-three.”

  My eyes popped open. “For two coffees?”

  Beckham pointed to the cup in my hand. That stupid smile that made him completely irresistible spread wide across his face. “That’s not coffee. It’s a latte.”

  I grumbled under my breath, and was about to dig for another single when Beckham handed Jimmy a ten. “Keep the change,” Beckham said, but his eyes said more. Beckham wasn’t the only one who paid attention. I knew his ticks, his lies, and when he was being genuine, or not. They were telling Jimmy to keep the change for me being a spoiled little brat.

  It was way too early to be irritated. I stormed off, and took a sip of my coffee, needing my caffeine fix. As soon as the bitter liquid hit my tongue, my nose scrunched, and it took all I had to swallow.

  Beckham walked up behind me with an amused laugh. “How’s the latte?” he asked, knowing damn well it was the worst thing I ever tasted.

  I guess I would have to get through my classes without any help today. “It’s fine,” I mumbled.

  He took a sip from his cup. “Mine’s delicious.”

  I had a feeling it was the first of many reminders, so I held my breath, and took another sip from my own cup. “Mmm. Hits the spot,” I stated.

  “So, first Friday night away from home. What’s the plan?” Beckham asked, as we naturally fell into step and headed toward my class.

  “I’m going out with my roommate to the Star Room.”

  He stopped walking, and rested a hand on my arm, shooting heat right to my core, and halting me in place. “You are not going there.”

  I was finally away from home. Away from my strict parents and pain in the ass brother, the last thing I needed was someone telling me what I could and couldn’t do.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Beckham smirked. “You have to be twenty-one to get in.”

  “I know. I have a fake I.D.”

  He stopped walking, and his eyes narrowed at me. “Where the hell did you get a fake I.D. from?”

  “None of your business.” I tossed my hair back and continued walking.

  “Whatever. You’re not going.”

  “Sorry, but you can’t tell me what I can and cannot do. I don’t care if my brother’s paying you to babysit me.”

  “He’s not paying me,” Beckham growled.

  “Whatever. I’m going. End of story.”


  “That place is a goddamn meat market.”

  “What the hell is a meat market?” I asked, and the way he rolled his eyes made me feel like a naïve little kid.

  “Guys go there with the sole purpose of finding a girl to hook up with,” Beckham explained, and I wondered how many times he frequented the place last semester.

  I held my head high and caught his eye. “Good. That’s exactly what I’m looking for.”

  “You are not hooking up with some random guy.”

  I stood tall, not letting the half a foot he had on me intimidate me. “Want to make a bet?”

  “Over my dead fucking body,” Beckham barked.

  I jutted my chin out, and gave him a dismissive glance, then strutted around him. He grabbed my arm, his warm touch sparking a fire inside of me that I swore I extinguished. It spread from my forearm to my chest, slowly making its way through the rest of my body.

  My eyes moved to where his hand was so hot against my skin then travelled up to meet his gaze. It was intense and serious. The strong resolve I refused to break began to chip away.

  “Please,” Beckham breathed. The serious intensity grew desperate, as he pleaded with me through those beautiful hazel eyes.

  “I guess we’ll have to see.” I took his coffee out of his hand, and replaced it with my disgusting latte. “I have to get to class. See you around,” I said and walked away, feeling like I finally had the upper hand.

  Chapter 6

  Erica threw all her best clothes on my bed, and I grabbed my own favorite pieces, and tossed them into the pile. She dug through, holding up a turquoise skirt with a black waistband. “This would look cute with a black tank. Do you mind if I borrow it?” she asked, as she admired it up against her in the mirror.

  “As long as I can borrow this,” I said, swiping up a slinky black dress with the sides cut out.

  “Of course. My clothes are your clothes,” she said, and I smiled.

  I was scared moving into a dorm with a roommate I had never met, but Erica was awesome. It was still our first week, and we were already sharing clothes like sisters.

  “You should wear your grey and black suede strappy sandals,” Erica suggested, pointing to the shoes I had thrown in a corner.

  After an hour and a half of curling our hair and putting on our make-up, we stood back and admired ourselves in the mirror.

  Erica fluffed her hair and smiled. “You ready to go dance your little heart out?”

  “Definitely.”

  She linked her arm through mine, and we headed to the door, our purses and fake I.D.’s in hand. I opened the door, and froze at Beckham in mid knock.

  His eyes roamed over my body, darkening with each new inch he discovered. A satisfied smile tugged at my lips, but then my brain kicked in.

  “Beckham, what are you doing here?” I asked, trying not to drool over the fitted white, black and grey plaid button up shirt he was wearing. He looked like he belonged on a runway, and not in the hallway of a dorm.

  He didn’t answer me. Instead, his eyes bore into mine, making desire and want pool between my thighs.

  Erica’s grip fell from my arm, as she held out her hand to Beckham. “Hi, I’m Erica,” she said, knocking Beckham’s attention away from me.

  He shook his head and held his hand out to her. “Beckham.”

  “Nice to meet you. I didn’t know we were bringing dates,” she said.

  Without his hot, intense stare on me, I was able to think straight. “Me either. I mean we’re not. I’m sure Beckham was just leaving. Right, Becks?”

  “Actually, no. You said you were going to the Star Room earlier, and I thought to myself, man I haven’t been there in the longest time. I could go for a night out. So here I am. Hope I’m not intruding.”

  I knew what he was doing. He wasn’t here to go out with us and have a good time. No. He was here to be my goddamn chaperone.

  “Sorry, girls only,” I said, and pulled the door shut. “Maybe next time.”

  I started walking when I realized neither Erica nor Beckham were beside me. I turned around to find them still outside our door laughing. A pang of jealousy hit me low in the gut. If he hooked up with Erica, I don’t think I’d ever recover.

  “What’s so funny?” I demanded.

  “Becks, was just telling me about your hometown,” Erica explained.

  She was already on a nickname basis with him. I tried to control my eye roll. “Yeah, that’s hilarious.”

  “It is when they’re stories about you,” he said with a wink, and my lip curled in annoyance.

  “We’re leaving.” I linked my arm back through Erica’s, but she didn’t take the cue to walk away.

  “You should come,” she said to Beckham, and she might as well have held up a flag declaring her treachery.

  His smile was so sweet; it made me sick like I had too much cotton candy at the fair. “If you insist,” he purred, and I waited for him to lower his head so Erica could scratch behind his ear.

  She giggled, and I started questioning our friendship. “Becks, are you driving?” Erica asked.

  “Sure. Car’s in the back. Black Nissan Maxima.”

  “That things still running?” I scoffed.

  “Don’t you knock my baby. Do I have to remind you how many rides she has given you?”

  He had given me plenty of rides in that car, but, really, all I ever wanted was to ride him. Being so close to him, smelling his masculine scent, feeling the warmth radiating off of his arm that kept grazing mine in this small hallway, was driving me mad. “Don’t you have your own friends?” I snapped.

  “Yes, but why would I want to hang out with them when I can spend time with you?” He winked, and caught up to Erica. He unlocked the passenger door, and helped her into the car. I did my best not to pay attention to him and his gorgeous face, but that proved difficult and no matter how hard I tried to focus on something else, anything else, my eyes kept drifting back to him.

  My night might not have been going according to plan, but there was one thing that was locked in stone. I was going home with someone tonight, and it wasn’t going to be Erica.

  Chapter 7

  The Star Room was everything I imagined and more. Music pounded from all directions, and people lined the bar, all doing their best to get the bartender’s attention. Bodyguards that looked more like walking walls than people stood in the corners, watching over the crowd.

  Erica grabbed my arm, and dragged me over to the bar. “Let’s do a shot.”

  Beckham stayed close, his chest pressing against my back. He leaned down to my ear. “I don’t think shots are a good idea.”

  I turned until I was looking straight into his eyes. “And, if I remember correctly, you invited yourself so really I don’t care what you think.” I looped my arm through Erica’s. “Let’s make it a double.”

  She pointed at Beckham, and leaned into him. “Do you want one?”

  He shook his head no, and I rolled my eyes. He could act like a perfect little angel all he wanted, but we both knew that was a lie. He thrived on being the life of the party. Throwing back a few beers in Nixon’s bedroom was only a small portion of his drinking adventures.

  Erica squeezed her tiny ass through the crowd, and used her boobs to get the bartender’s attention. She jumped up, using her arms as leverage, and leaned toward him. “Four lemon drop shots,” she yelled into his ear.

  He lined up the shot glasses, then grabbed the citron vodka and coated four lemons slices with sugar. He slid the lemons over on a napkin, and took Erica’s money.

  Erica handed me a shot, and held hers up. “To the next four years,” she said, and we carefully clicked our glasses before downing the shot.

  The liquid burned its way down my throat, and I took a bite from the lemon. Beckham’s eyes stayed glued on mine, watching my every move. I picked up the next shot, and lifted it to him before downing that one.

  “Let’s dance,” I yelled to Erica. I grabbed her hand, and pulled he
r out to the dance floor.

  Beckham went to the bar, and ordered a beer. He found a corner, and leaned against the wall, sipping his beer and watching me.

  A red head with a tiny skirt and legs a mile long walked over to him, and didn’t waste a second before she was touching his chest, and doing her best flirting. I waited for the pang of jealousy, but it never came. Beckham wouldn’t give her the time of day. He smiled at her, but nothing more. His eyes were still completely fixated on me.

  Erica spotted people she knew from class, and joined their dance circle, while I hung out at the rear.

  I closed my eyes, letting the music and the alcohol take over. My body swayed from left to right feeling the rhythm and absorbing every beat. I felt free, completely weightless and uninhibited. And knowing Beckham was watching me, I felt sexy and alive.

  The music slowed, and so did I. Large hands wrapped around my sides, and I leaned into the hot chest pressed against me. It wasn’t Beckham’s, but it would do. I continued to sway to the music as I felt his hands move down my sides, making their way to the cutouts of my dress, when they were suddenly gone.

  I opened my eyes, and spun around. Beckham was giving the death stare to some guy who was a good four inches shorter than him. The guy held his hands up and backed away. “Sorry dude. Didn’t know,” he said, and turned to a new girl.

  “What the fuck?” I yelled to Beckham.

  “Dance with me,” he commanded, and even though the refusal was sitting on my tongue, my body betrayed me, and moved toward him.

  His large hand snaked around me, yanking me tight against him. His hips grounded into mine, and I matched his pace. Our bodies synced and found a rhythm allowing us to move as if we were one, knowing exactly what the other was going to do before our minds knew.

  I ran my hands up his chest as his travelled across the cutouts of my dress, and to the small of my back. I let my head fall backward, allowing him to hold me up as my body got lost in the music. He pushed me up and into him, holding me tight. His lips grazed my neck, and heat shot to my core.