Other Side of Beautiful (A Beautifully Disturbed #1) Read online

  A compliment from Benton Hayes? “Well, thanks. The sun has to shine on a dog’s ass sometimes, right?”

  He sputters out a laugh through his devilish little smirk, sadly concealing that dimple once again. He opens his mouth, probably to respond, until Kelly sloshes up to us, vodka and champagne fumes radiating off her so strongly I swear I can see the ripples in the air.

  “Hey, what’s e’rybody laughing ‘bout?” Kelly slurs her words, draping her arms over me and Benton.

  “Kendrick,” Sabrina says.

  Kelly had taken a few lit classes with me because they were required by both our majors, but she thought it would be fun to take a writing class with me to see what all the fuss is about. That semester we all took Kendrick’s flash fiction and prose poetry class. She really didn’t understand the concepts. If you can’t craft a normal short story, crafting a flash piece is damn near impossible.

  She rolls her eyes. “Who wants to read a story so short? Where’s the skill?”

  Where’s the skill? Really? Sometimes she makes it difficult to be her friend. Looking around, I sense the rest of my friends are thinking the same. But she’s drunk, so it is no use arguing. I bite my lip to keep my mouth shut. Besides, Benton has this.

  “Those who can’t, teach, Kel.”

  “Keep telling yourself that living in your car after graduation.”

  His little smirk appears, which means he is ready to spar, and really, all of us prepare for a show that never has a chance.

  “Kel.” Someone calls out from across the room, and she stumbles away to get more of her drink on.

  It occurs to me that just four short years ago I would never have been able to picture a night like tonight, even with all my awkwardness. And the thought allows me to relax. That is until Zena motions for the DJ to turn down the music, calling our attention.

  Five minutes to midnight, she claps her hands. “All right, everybody. Game time. I’m going to turn the lights out. It’ll be pitch dark in here. You have to move around the room. We count down, and when the ball drops, you stop moving and kiss your first kiss of the New Year with the person you’re standing next to.” Serious groans sweep around the room in surround-sound. “No getting out of it, even you, Elly.” Because being singled out before a kissing game isn’t my most awkward moment of the night. “I’ll flick the lights back on,” she continues, “and everyone gets to see who they’re kissing. It’ll be fun.”

  She and I clearly have different ideas of fun. Yet just as promised, the room goes dark. I move around the floor, stepping on feet and bumping into bodies, whispering “sorry” more times than I care to think about. Then the counting starts. “Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…” we all chant together. “Five…four…three…two…” I take in a deep breath and swallow back my fear as hands grip my waist, then move slowly up the contour of my body until they reach my face. “One. Happy New Year!”

  Lips, strong, supple lips press against mine, and I gasp out my shock. Although it shouldn’t come a surprise, because this is the game, executed exactly as she’d explained it. Something breaks loose inside me, some super-charged primal urge which realizes I have a man kissing me. I don’t mean to, but it has been so long. My heart beats rapidly, I’m worried my deodorant won’t keep the funk away from my awkward nervousness, and I still can’t get myself to think rationally. Before I can stop myself, I kiss back. I mean, I really kiss back, tugging on his bottom lip until his mouth opens up to me.

  Maybe it’s because of the dark, but in this moment I become a different woman, the woman I’ve always wanted to be. Beautiful. Sensual. Even though I know she’ll disappear the moment the lights come back on, right now they’re off, and I let her lead the way. Pulling him snug against my body, I deepen the kiss, using my tongue to explore his mouth, tasting him until our tongues tangle together. A soft moan escapes me, causing him to groan low into my mouth. This stranger has me shuddering in his arms. Of course the moment I let awkward Elly go with reckless abandon would be the moment the lights blink on, bringing me face-to-face with Benton Hayes. I just tongue assaulted my friend, Benton Hayes, still standing with his hands on my cheeks. Kill. Me. Now.

  “Happy New Year, Brontë.” Happy New Year? Happy New Year? My skin is fricking on fire from humiliation, and he has the nerve to say Happy New Year, and with his fingers still holding my face? What he must think of me now. An overly aggressive bad kisser who moaned, fricking moaned from his touch. And I remain standing too close to him, my breasts pressing against his chest for several seconds longer. “That was…” He clears his throat. “Interesting.”

  I won’t let him see how stupid I feel. I can’t show that to Benton Hayes. So I pretend I didn’t hear him, pretend he doesn’t exist, except that I still cling to him, arms around his neck.

  “Uh, Dinninger? I’m going to charge a transportation fee if I have to carry you.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I drop my arms right away and step back. “Blonde moment.”

  “I don’t mind, but just so you know, I don’t come cheap.”

  “Not what I hear.” I wince, wishing I hadn’t said that to him of all people.

  But he only chuckles and says, “Touché.”

  Thankfully the distraction I’ve silently been praying for shows up, as all eyes turn to the center of the floor. Only four bodies, or two couples away, Zena’s boyfriend Garret stands as red-faced as I’ve ever seen him while our friend, Benton’s best friend Collin stares at him in the most breathtaking ‘I’m the man’ stance I’ve ever seen. He holds the devil in his smile and a gleam in his eye. I can’t blame him. Garret is good looking in that metrosexual straight boy way. A little too manscaped for my taste; I prefer distinction, like Errol’s tattooed body armor, or Benton’s, well, everything.

  When I said Benton Hayes is the second hottest man on campus, Collin bares the blame for his silver medal status. The man really has no reason to even be in college. Just one day in Hollywood is all it would take for him to be plucked off the street and pushed into a whirlwind courtship with stardom. The only reason he hasn’t been voted sexiest man in the world is because that magazine hasn’t discovered our Collin yet, which makes me proud for some odd reason my brain hasn’t quite figured out yet. Because I clearly had nothing to do with the angel-kissed gene pool he swims in. On top of that, the man has talent. While not as prolific as Benton, he certainly can craft a story.

  I like to think of Collin as the Ken to Kelly’s Barbie, in the ultra-blond hair and big blue eyes way. But unlike Barbie’s Ken, our Collin stepped free from his closet a long time ago, hence the devil in his smile. Because back to our red-faced friend, I wouldn’t distrust the notion that at least a part of him liked it—the kiss—and it probably makes him really uncomfortable to admit to himself. But what guys like Garret don’t understand is that it’s never about gay or straight, it’s about a kiss and Collin. The man radiates hotness like a sun gone supernova. I doubt a person exists who knows him and doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of those lips just once, except maybe Benton. Those two are like brothers, and incest is just wrong.

  “Your girl looks to be having a good time again.” Benton points over to the other side of Collin. Only in Kelly’s world would that be considered a good time. She can hardly stand and is swaying half out of her clothing, hanging all over some guy named Haas, I think, another teaching major, and who’s currently getting an eyeful of boob. He most certainly counts as a regret waiting to happen. Tall, skinny, day-walking gingers don’t get the slumber party invite in Kelly’s world. It’s time to call it a night.

  “Well, shit.”

  He stands behind me snickering while I push my way through the compacted group to get to her. “Come on, Kel. Tell the good people nighty night.” But Kelly couldn’t tell anyone anything, passing out the minute I wrap an arm around her waist. It looks like I’m feeling her up, tucking her boobs back into her dress. Dragging each other from a regretful situations is what friends do, I remind myself. M
y little Barbie, she’s significant dead weight for being such a wisp of a thing. I slap her face several times. “Kel…Kelly, wake up.” Thankfully, her eyes, though no more than slits, open for me, which makes her a little less drunk than the last time we did this. She still can’t walk though. With a good grip on her arms, I swing her around, shifting her onto my back to drag her toward the door. “Night, everyone,” I call to the crowd behind me.

  “Whoa, Dinninger, you need a hand.”

  Benton surprises me from my left. I start first, but the start instantaneously melts away from the sound of his velvety voice in my ear. “No.” And I’m not kidding when I say it takes everything in me to recover from that swoon moment without being caught, embarrassment be damned. “I’m…I’m okay.”

  “That wasn’t a question.” He lifts Kelly from my back. We walk out of the apartment to the elevator carrying her between us.

  “She seems to be getting worse. Do you think maybe we should talk to her about it?”

  “Like an intervention?”

  “I guess. I just don’t want anything bad to happen, you know?”

  Yes, I officially hate crushes. Benton Hayes, silver medal winner for hotness on the GHU campus. The gold medal winner for writing, and although I’ve never kissed Collin, I think the gold would go to Benton for that kiss I will never be able to forget, probably for the rest of my life. He yet again shows true friendship, concerned about Kelly’s drinking. All I do is shake my head to respond, because really, where do I come off intervening on Kelly’s drinking? I’m not any better than her. Not because of drinking, but because of other stuff. Of course Benton couldn’t possibly know that, how damaged I am. I’d just feel like a hypocrite telling her not to drink after everything I’ve done.

  We step out of the apartment building, the chill a welcome distraction from the hot flashes; being so close to Benton really brings the hot flashes out. Far too soon, yet not soon enough for my taste, we reach my little Ford Focus and I press the unlock on my key fob. Good thing for keyless entry, because Kelly seemed to get heavier the closer to my car we got. I wonder how I ever managed by myself.

  “Beautiful night, tonight. So cold and clear we can see every star in the sky,” he says, helping lower Kelly into the backseat so she could lie down.

  “Mmm…it really is. Nights like these make me glad I decided on Michigan. We don’t get this kind of clarity back home.”

  He smiles at me again, a genuine, beautiful smile. “So we really aren’t going to see you for a whole semester?

  “No. As much as you’ll all miss my charm and humor, I’m trying to set up my classes for senior year, getting through all the tough ones now so I can have all writing classes in the fall. But I’ll be around, I mean, if you still want to put up with my ass outside of class.”

  “It’s a safe bet.”

  Talking with him comes so easy. I wouldn’t mind sitting out here talking the rest of the night. But this is Benton Hayes whose time I’ve been bogarting. “Crap.” Yeah, I even shock myself with how loud that pops from my mouth. He crooks an eyebrow at me. “I’m keeping you from all the hot girls. Isn’t there someone you should be kissing?”

  “No.” Benton laughs a humorless laugh. “I think I’ve done my kissing for tonight.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Dinninger—”

  “I should get going.”

  “Probably.” As he turns to leave, I stop him first.

  “Happy New Year, Benton. And thank you.”

  Chapter 3

  Ben

  She looked fucking gorgeous tonight. The way she filled out those jeans of hers. What was I even thinking? Kissing Elly Dinninger? It seemed so perfect when Zena announced her game—my opportunity. Not sure who she was expecting, because that was one hell of a kiss. But judging from the shock on her face, the way she scrunched up that adorable button nose and those seductive almond eyes grew so wide, it clearly wasn’t me. My little Elly, she’s a firecracker, all right. She just needs someone to light the wick.

  I don’t know how she puts up with it. Kelly, she’s cool and hot. Two extremes in one unholy vessel makes her volatile, combustible. No doubt she’d be a good time, but get a little Cuervo in her system and she turns into Gypsy Rose Lee. There’s not a guy around campus who hasn’t seen everything she has to offer at one time or another. That’s not a judgment call. I think a woman should own her sexuality. But Kelly only owns it when she’s drunk, which when she’s not in class, is all the time now. That screams issues. Don’t we all have issues? What she needs is someone to help her see she’s more than all that, more than her issues. I’m not that guy. Although she’d be available if I wanted her, I could never do that to Elly, hook up with her roommate.

  The whole building shakes from the thumping bass punching through the walls and floor. Zena never ceases to amaze me with the kind of parties she throws. But instead of heading back, I stand in the doorway watching the little yellow Focus drive away like a complete and utter loser. So much for my opportunity.

  “Shit.” I wipe my hands over my face, and try yet fail miserably not to think about that if she had wanted me, wouldn’t she have let me know at some point during the evening? Not going to lie, it stings a bit. Women want me. I only sleep alone when I want to. That’s probably why it stings so badly. Collin is back in the party. I don’t want to talk to him about her anyway; he’d only tell me to tell Brontë how I feel. He of all people knows how hard that is for me. This is exactly why I don’t do matters of the heart. Sex, sex I can do. Make a woman feel good, feel desired, and you both leave satisfied. Period.

  I need to get out of my own head for a while. Running, I take the stairs two at a time until I reach Zena’s hallway and the sexy piece of coed slipping into the apartment across from the party. She stops, as if sensing me, and turns. When she shines those bedroom eyes my way, I know I’m in for just the distraction I need to get Elly out of my head.

  “Benton Hayes?”

  “In the flesh. But I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “You went out with my old roommate, Kimber. I’m Lindsey, by the way.”

  I don’t even have to ask. She’s on me before I cross the threshold to her door. Yes, she’s exactly what I need to stop thinking about her. Damn her, why’d she have to look so especially good tonight? Why’d she have to kiss me the way she did? Why didn’t I just go with her to take Kelly home? Because I’m a coward.

  When I feel her getting more aggressive with her kisses and touches is when I realize I’d let up. I have to get Elly out of my head. I’m with Lindsey tonight, and tonight Lindsey will feel good and desired.

  ***

  I did my job exactly as I’d set out to do. Lindsey was a little spitfire in the bedroom, keeping me going all night. But in the end, she’s just like all the rest, namely, not her. Not. Her. So even though all I want to do is sleep the party out of my system, I dress before Lindsey wakes and sneak out quietly. I think she’s my last one for a while. It wasn’t fair to Lindsey that the only way I got off was by picturing another woman underneath me.

  Some guy I saw at Zena’s last night is slipping out of our apartment when I get home. “He’s waiting for you,” the guy says to me. I nod. That’s one way Collin and I differ. I never bring them home. Although today is the third time I’ve seen the guy. He seems nice enough the brief times we’ve spoken. Col will introduce us when he’s ready.

  Sure enough, when I walk inside Collin is sitting on the sofa with his arms crossed over his chest. He was even considerate enough to have this conversation fully dressed, which means shit’s about to get serious. Col doesn’t usually let technicalities such as clothing get in his way when he has something on his mind. “I don’t suppose you went with her last night?”

  “No.”

  “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

  “Why are we discussing what I do at—” I look down at my watch. “—seven a.m. on New Year’s?”

  “Because I don’t
even think you’re fooling yourself anymore.”

  Ouch. And now we’ve reached the point where he crosses over from best friend to nuisance, calling me on the crap I’d rather not be called on. “I’m not,” I say honestly and drop down in the chair across from him.

  “So then what are you going to do about it?”

  “What am I going to do? I kissed her last night and she ran.”

  “She didn’t run. If you didn’t tell her how you feel, then to her that kiss was just a party game.”

  “Have you ever thought she just doesn’t want me like that? Maybe she just wants to stay friends.”

  “Have you seen the way she looks at you? But you know Elly, she’ll never make the first move. You have to do it. Suck it up and take care of business. Now, I need coffee. That was Kip, by the way. You might see him around here a bit more.” I smile at him. Good to know one of us is getting his shit together. “What?” he says. “Don’t look at me like that. Go get cleaned up so we can go.”

  Chapter 4

  Elle

  The worst part about drinking holidays is that I have to experience Kelly’s morning after without the distraction of a hangover myself. Her morning afters seem to center around me and what I can do to help her through it. I woke this morning to my name being called out—well, more like a moan than a call—between heaving sounds that I followed to Kelly, sitting on the floor with her head resting against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl. And she’s a mess. Vomit trails down her dress, the one from last night she had been too wasted for me to get her out of. It took a herculean effort just to get her inside the house and onto her bed without the aid of Benton. There’s an upchuck trail following the floor, as if she tried to make it to the old throne but just couldn’t get there on time.

  “I’m here, Kel,” I coo softly and carefully begin peeling her night of excess away without getting it on either of us. She whimpers several times, sits up rigid fast, and heaves again. I hold her hair back until nothing else comes up and then help her stand, walking her into the shower. Kelly can’t stand on her own, falling forward and then backward both times I try to leave. Leaning on me might be a metaphor for her life. I mean, she hasn’t stood on her own since we met. But friends help friends. I climb in the shower fully clothed and help her wash up.