The Girl Next Door
Chapter 15

I swipe my phone from the nightstand beside the bed and read the last text from Alyssa. I fully expected her to announce that after all these years, she had her dirty little way with Colton, but that doesn't appear to be the case. Apparently, their little make-out session in the pool didn't go any further than that. I haven't mentioned what happened with Beck. It feels too intimate to share through text message. For the time being, I want to keep the news to myself. It's been hours, and I'm still in a state of shock.

I'm no longer a virgin.

That seems crazy.

Alyssa will go off the deep end when I tell her.

As I'm replying to Alyssa's text, something pings against the bedroom window. I startle, and my head whips up. A shiver of unease slithers down my spine. I stare in that direction, ears pricked for the slightest noise, but there's nothing. Thirty seconds later, and there's another plink against the glass.

Someone or something has to be out there.

I rise from the bed, and tiptoe my way across the carpeted floor before squinting into the darkness. When a ghostly face materializes out of nowhere, I scream at the top of my lungs and stumble back a few steps.

Large palms press against the glass as the face looms closer.

I slap a hand across my mouth as my heart threatens to explode from my chest.

What the ever-loving hell?

Slowly, the features take shape.

Wait a minute...

I rush toward the window, remove the screen, and unlatch the lock before shoving it open. "Have you lost your freaking mind? What are you doing out there?"

The last time Beck climbed the tree to my bedroom was the summer before sixth grade. Once middle school hit, we drifted apart. Everyone realized what a football phenom Beck was, and his popularity skyrocketed while mine stayed the same.

Not waiting for an invitation, Beck tumbles through the open window, landing on the other side before popping to his feet and slamming it shut behind him. My normally spacious room shrinks around his muscular form, making it feel tight and oppressive. As if there's barely room to breathe.

Is it strange that I was just thinking about him and now he's here?

If I'm being honest, Beck has consumed all of my thoughts today. Everything we did this morning has been playing through my head on a constant loop. Every shift of my body reminds me of the soreness between my thighs.

I've always been so good about shutting down thoughts of him.

But now?

Beck has taken up residence in my brain, and there's nothing I can do to evict him.

My gaze drops from his eyes to his lips. Arousal bursts like a firework in my core. It takes all of my self-control not to throw myself at him.

I've officially become a Beck Hollingsworth groupie.

I'm not sure how to feel about that.

"Mia," he whispers. His voice comes out sounding strangled, and it strums something deep inside.

Excitement pounds through my veins. It shouldn't surprise me that Beck is the only one capable of making me feel this way. Even when I tried to pretend the chemistry between us was a figment of my imagination, I knew the truth. "Yeah?" My mouth turns cottony, and I'm barely able to push the word out.

"You need to stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Heat flames my cheeks because I know exactly what he's alluding to. But I can't seem to help it. I'm desperate to lay my hands on Beck. I want him inside me again, filling me to the brim.

He forces his gaze away before plowing a hand through his hair. His movements are full of agitation, and his face is set in grim lines. Only now does it occur to me that something is off with his behavior. This morning he was at ease and relaxed. That's not the case anymore. Even though we're only a few feet from one another, it feels as if there is a gaping chasm between us.

Unease dances down my spine as the excitement swirling around inside me is snuffed out. I shift my weight nervously. I want everything to feel like it did this morning, but I'm not sure how to get us back to that.

"Did you get in trouble for the party?" Maybe his parents grounded him. Archibald wasn't pleased to replace us in the pool.

"No."

He shakes his head, and relief bursts inside me like an over-inflated balloon. Before I realize it, the distance disappears, and I'm pushing my fingers through his dark hair. I marvel at how soft the strands are. "What's wrong?" Cautiously I search his shuttered gaze for answers that don't seem forthcoming.

His teeth sink into his lower lip. "Nothing, but we need to talk."

Nothing good ever came from those words.

"About what?" My hands fall to my sides as if they're made of lead.

When he remains silent, I step away. It's impossible to think when we're standing so close. "What do we need to talk about?"

An uncomfortable silence stretches between us.

"Beck?" Nerves dance across my skin.

"We can't go out," he blurts.

His words are like rapid gunfire and feel just as painful.

"What?" My heart drops to the bottom of my toes.

"I'm sorry, Mia." He glances away. It's like he can't hold my stare for more than a few seconds. "As much as I want to take you out, I can't."

Disappointment blooms in my chest until I almost choke on it.

Why am I surprised?

Deep down, I knew this would happen. And still, I allowed myself to be swept away by his bullshit. I straighten to my full height and cross my arms over my chest. Refusing to beg him for answers, I press my lips together until they feel numb. "Mia? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." That's a lie, but I'll be damned if I give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt me.

Beck plows a hand through his hair. "We both have a lot going on. I leave for training camp next week, and after that, I won't be home much. I need to focus on football. I can't allow any outside distractions to get in the way. You understand, right?" Did he just call me a distraction?

I blink back the wetness that stings my eyes, refusing to allow the tears to fall.

"There's no need to explain. I got it loud and clear. You used me, and I was stupid enough to fall for your lies." I press a shaking hand to my chest. "My bad. Won't happen again."

His eyes flare as he shakes his head. "No, it wasn't like that..."

Laughter explodes from my lips.

Who is he trying to kid?

I fell for his smooth talk-hook, line, and sinker. In all honesty, I deserve everything I got. Lesson learned the hard way.

"You can stop with the BS, Beck." My voice hardens.

When he reaches out, attempting to stroke the curve of my cheek, I bat his hand away and retreat, needing to put as much distance between us as possible.

"Mia, please," he whispers, "you have to know that I'm sorry. It's not what I want."

The sad thing is that I almost believe him.

That he's able to break my heart all the while trying to convince me how sorry he is only proves that I'm no better than all the foolish girls who trail after him. This is exactly why Beck Hollingsworth is dangerous to the female species. Even when he's cutting your heart out, you want more.

Not bothering to respond, I stab a finger toward the window. If he thinks I'll cry and beg him to reconsider, he has another thing coming. "Get out."

When he opens his mouth, looking like he might argue, I cut him off. "I said get out!"

Anguish flashes in his green eyes as his shoulders collapse, and he jerks his head into a nod. He wavers for a moment before retreating to the window. Silently, he pushes it open before turning back to me. "I'm sorry for letting everything get out of hand this morning. It's my fault for hurting you."

I snort.

Beck can take his apology and shove it up his a*s.

A wave of nausea crashes over me. I've never felt so used or dirty. Even though I took a shower earlier this afternoon, the need to take another and scrub every memory of him from my skin pounds through me.

I'm an i***t for believing I was anything more than a one-night f**k. Or that Beck was mature enough to have a real relationship. All he did was prove that he's exactly what I suspected he was.

An a*****e who will use and abuse you before throwing you away.

Guess the joke is on me for believing I was too smart to fall for his lines.