7. Secrets of The Bedroom

ELLIE

I've never felt more conflicted in my entire life. On the one hand, the hottest guy you've ever met in your entire life invites you up to his room, and you already know you want to get laid. So of course, this is a golden opportunity. But on the other hand, you don't want to be a slut who jumps into bed with the first guy who offers. You still have some self-respect, after all.

Still, I couldn't figure out what the right thing to do was. Avoiding Beck would cause serious alarm bells to start ringing in his head. But if I didn't avoid him, and I somehow ended up hooking up with him, then it would just complicate everything. It wouldn't be what I planned in my head. It would just be another random girl he'd hooked up with, and it probably wouldn't even feel good.

And the worst part to all of this was that he was totally oblivious to my dilemma, and he seemed completely at ease with himself while I was spiraling out of control.

"You don't mind if I stash these in my room, do you?" he asked, holding up the plastic container and smiling at me. "Tyler has a black hole for a stomach. Last week he ate an entire chicken that was meant for five people. If he finds your cookies, we're screwed."

He was already halfway up the stairs before I could answer, and it sounded like this was no big deal to him. It was like I was just another girl at his party, and he was just being a good host. So I followed him because... well, what the hell else was I supposed to do? Say no and awkwardly shuffle back to the front lawn with a red Solo cup in my hand and a permanent case of blue ovaries? Yeah, no thanks.

But as I climbed the stairs behind him, my brain went into overdrive.

Was this his way of making a move? Like, did the whole cookie-in-the-bedroom thing have a double meaning? I mean, I did look halfway decent tonight. I'd straightened my hair, I'd added a little lip gloss, and I'd even sprayed myself with Aunt Carol's (only for special occasions) vanilla perfume a little bit. Maybe he noticed, and this was the moment I could just get it over with and stop being the fucking virgin who overthinks everything and has never even taken her bra off in front of another human being.

Or maybe this was all in my head, and I was about to walk into a room filled with Xbox controllers and old gym socks.

"Are you alright, Buzzkill?" he asked, turning around to face me slowly. I tensed up as his eyes settled on me, and I suddenly forgot how to breathe.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. "I've just never been to a party before."

"Seriously?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Not even a middle school party?"

"I wasn't exactly popular in middle school," I mumbled. Beck cocked his head to the side as he stared at me, and a stupid grin split his face in half as he turned back around.

"I'm sure I can guess why," he chuckled. "You were probably a major buzzkill back then."

"Stop calling me that," I said, glaring at the back of his head. "I don't even know why you insist on calling me that.”

“Well you are a buzzkill,” he said. “What more can I say?”

“How can you call me that when you don’t even know me?” I said, wishing I had a knife or a lightsaber so I could teach him a proper lesson.

He shrugged nonchalantly, and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to tell me anything. I wanted to keep arguing, but we’d reached his room, and he pushed the door open with a grunt.

His bedroom door creaked open, and I hesitated for a second before stepping in after him. It was nothing like I expected. The place was surprisingly neat, with a dark blue comforter stretched across the bed, a couple of framed pictures on the dresser, and a sleek black desk pushed up against the wall with his laptop and a few scattered textbooks on it. What really caught my eye however were the posters. There were almost a dozen colorful anime posters. There was one for Naruto, One Piece, and even Death Note tucked in the corner with the picture of some evil looking monster glaring down at me.

"Wow," I said, surprised. "I didn't think you were a weeb."

Beck grinned as he crouched beside the bed, sliding the container of cookies underneath as he said, "I've seen Naruto all the way through. Twice."

"No way."

"Believe it, Buzzkill."

He looked at me like he expected me to understand something he’d just said or done, but I didn’t understand what I was supposed to be understanding. I saw the disappointment in his eyes, and I felt bad that I didn’t realize what was the reason.

“Have you watched any anime yourself?” he asked.

“A little bit,” I replied. “I’ve watched a few episodes of Naruto, but never in a serious way. It’s just something I watch when I’m bored.”

“Then there’s hope for you after all,” he said with a smile. “We just need to get you hooked.”

“Why is that so important to you?” I asked.

“Because I need you to see the beauty of anime,” he replied with a boyish grin. “So tell me, who was your favourite character? And please don’t say Naruto because that’s such a cop-out answer.”

“I’m not sure,” I replied. "I just know I always felt bad for Sasuke. From what I can remember watching, he's a bit of a drama queen, but he’s still cute."

Beck stood up and dusted his hands off, then he said, "Sasuke had a traumatic childhood, but his emo personality did not help him save face. People love to hate on him, but they'd be worse in his shoes."

“Who’s your favourite character?” I asked.

“Tsunade,” he replied automatically.

“Who is that?”

“The fifth Hokage,” he replied. “She’s got great tits, so there’s that.”

“You’re an idiot, Beck Ryder,” I said, rolling my eyes.

I was getting ready to slip out of the room when I saw a photo sitting quietly on his nightstand. It was the picture of a beach, with a bright blue sky above. And Beck was in the picture, probably sixteen at the time, shirtless and sunburnt with a man and woman beside him who looked so much like him, I didn't even need to ask.

But I did.

"Is that your…?"

"Yeah," he cut in, his eyes locked on the picture. "Those are my folks."

There was a very long pause, long enough for my stomach to twist up with that familiar, horrible feeling of saying something I shouldn't have.

"That was taken three days before they died," he added, and even though his voice was still steady, there was a heaviness behind it. "Some guy shot at their car while they were on the highway. No one knows who, or why."

I didn't even know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. So I did the only thing that came to mind. I reached out and took his hand.

He blinked, like I'd surprised him, and his mouth fell open in shock. His fingers curled around mine without hesitation, and for a second, the world suddenly stopped spinning. It was just me and him and a soft little heartbeat between our palms that didn't feel awkward or forced.

But then, the universe decided it was time to fuck me up, and the door suddenly exploded open.

"What the fuck is going on in here?!"

Salma stormed into the room like a banshee from hell in her glittery gold crop top and matching micro skirt, her eyes blazing with so much rage that I was surprised I didn’t spontaneously burst into flames at the sight of her.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Beck asked. “Why are you barging into my room like this?”

“Leslie said she saw you two going upstairs together, and I knew something fishy was up,” she snapped. “What the hell is going on between you two?”

"Nothing's going on," Beck said quickly, pulling his hand from mine as if he'd just realized it was touching a landmine. "We were just…"

"Oh, please," she snapped, glaring at me. "Don't give me that bullshit. You think I don't see what's happening? You invite her to your party and sneak her up here so you can fuck her while your girlfriend is downstairs? You think I can’t identify a skank when I see one?"

"Excuse me?" I blinked as I stood up slowly, my brain barely catching up to the words she just launched at me.

"You heard me," she said, flipping her hair in my face. "Beck is taken, bitch. And if I find you sniffing around him again, I swear to God, Ellie, I will fucking ruin you. Don't think I won't."

Something inside me snapped.

"Ruin me?" I repeated, stepping forward. "What the fuck do you think you're going to do, Salma? Post a TikTok of me saying I slept with your boyfriend? Go ahead. I don’t give a fuck. You’re the sorry one here, pretending not to know that he’s slept through half the entire campus by now. What are you, number fifty seven?"

Her eyes narrowed at me as she said, "You think you're funny?"

"No, I think you're psychotic," I shot back. "And a pathetic insecure bitch who doesn’t have anything to stand for except her boyfriend. You want him all to yourself, but you know he doesn't actually want you. That's why you freak out the second he looks at someone else."

Beck tried to step between us, saying, "Okay, let's all just calm down and…"

"No," I snapped, pushing past him. "I'm done."

I stormed out of that house and flew down the stairs, pushing past the crowd of tipsy strangers and bass-pumping speakers, and right out the front door. My chest suddenly felt tight, and my ears were burning. My hands were shaking so much that I felt like I needed to punch something.

When I finally got back to my room, I flopped face-first onto my bed and screamed into the pillow until my throat hurt. It wasn’t because of Salma, although yeah, she sucked. It was because I didn't know what the hell was happening between me and Beck.

Would he have kissed me if she hadn't shown up?

Would something else have happened?

And most importantly...

What was I supposed to do now?