Big Mistake Page 5

  “I’m not laughing at you. I’m….” He pauses. “I’m naked, too. I can’t imagine naked laughing with anyone but you, Beck.”

  The look on his face when he says this makes me melt. “I always laugh with you,” I say.

  Before I can say anything else, he pulls me to him. Kissing me, fiercely now, he rolls over so that I’m lying back on the bed, and he’s on top of me again.

  I like this. He feels good. Sexy, and hot, and safe, all at once.

  Garrett’s always made me feel safe. Maybe—yeah, maybe a few times, recently, I’ve wanted him to make me feel … something else. But I’ve always pushed that aside. He’s Garrett. He takes care of me.

  He’s certainly taking care of you tonight, a little voice says. I resist the urge to giggle. I can’t, not after I gave him shit for laughing. Besides, I don’t think it’s good form to laugh while someone is kissing the breath out of you.

  He cups my breasts in his hands, and my nipples rise and harden. The feeling streaks like a lightning bolt, straight down between my legs, and even though he just made me come—like, what, two minutes ago, plus or minus a minute for the condom caper?—I’m ready to go again.

  I want him so badly my body is aching. He runs a hand down between my legs, and I arch up to meet it.

  “Beck” —his voice is hoarse— “I can’t wait anymore.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Yes, please.”

  He rolls the condom on with one hand while the other continues to stroke me, then he settles between my thighs and spreads them open wide.

  Slowly, still stroking my clit, Garrett slides himself into me.

  It feels … amazing. Amazing, and completely right.

  He leans down to kiss me. The feeling of his tongue and his cock inside me, moving the same way, is almost too much. I can feel the desire pooling within me, coiling tighter and tighter at the center.

  Jesus! Did he really just move his hips like that? I push against him because Yes. Please. More.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. I can feel his muscles moving under my forearms, and against my thighs. His whole body is striving for one goal, and his breathing gets heavier.

  “Oh, holy shit,” he pants, increasing his speed.

  His thrusts are faster but shallower, and I press up, wanting him to go deep again. That coiling feeling in me gets tighter, bigger. I feel like my head’s going to pop off, like something’s going to explode.

  He moves even faster, and I wrap myself around him as much as I can. It’s like I can’t get close enough.

  “Baby,” he says, in a tone I’ve never heard from Garrett, ever. “Beck. I’m gonna…. I want you with me.”

  “I am with you,” I whisper against his neck.

  He doesn’t answer, but turns his head and takes my mouth again. His arms are around me, his weight full on me, his lips devouring mine. The whole world is just the two of us, just him and me, above and under each other, inside and surrounding each other.

  Garrett and me.

  “Oh, my God,” I say, my voice muffled against his mouth. I’m close, so close.

  Then he buries his face against my neck. He makes a noise and thrusts so deep I cry out; as that coiling feeling breaks, as I clamp down around him, I feel him pulsing. This guy and his hips should be registered as a dangerous weapon or something—because I can hear someone wailing wordlessly in ecstasy, and it’s me.

  It’s me, and I’m with Garrett, and he’s coming inside me. He’s coming and I’m coming, and we’re together. Like we’ve always been, like we’re meant to be. Together.

  He stops and lets his forehead rest against mine again. When our breathing has slowed, he brings up a hand and cradles my face, kissing me as he does so.

  “That was…” he says.

  “Amazing,” I finish for him.

  Slowly, he moves away from me. I like that it feels reluctant. I’m reluctant to let him go. He heads for the bathroom, and then in a few moments, he’s back in the bed.

  “Hold me,” I say.

  “Yes,” he says, and he draws me into his arms.

  I close my eyes, loving the warmth of him, the smell of him, and the beat of his heart close to my ear.

  Chapter 7

  Rebecca

  I wake up with my head pounding and my stomach lurching.

  Oh, God.

  What happened last night? I mean, besides the obvious, because I know a hangover when I wake up in the throes of one. I hope we have some ginger ale in the fridge. Garrett always says—

  Garrett!

  I sit up. Both my head and my stomach register formal complaints, in triplicate.

  Garrett’s sitting on the edge of the bed, fully clothed, looking at me with an expression I can’t read. “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey.” I pull the sheet up almost to my neck, because I’m naked here.

  I’m naked under this bazillion-thread-count sheet. Holy shit. Holy shit. We….

  I look around the room. My clothes are strewn around in a manner that suggests I basically tossed them off.

  Did we— I think about it for a second, hard.

  We did.

  Ohmygod, ohmygod. Did we ever.

  I feel myself blush beet-red, and when I look at him again, I’m relieved that at least his cheeks, right at the top, are pink, too.

  “Did we?” I have to ask, even though I know the answer. Maybe I imagined it. But I’m not imagining the faint ache between my legs. I know what we did.

  He hesitates, and then nods. “We did. I’m sorry.”

  I vaguely remember arguing with him, and him dragging me out of Club Havana. “Did you do a shot off my stomach?”

  The pink in his cheeks turn to red. “I did. I was pretty drunk, too. Please tell me you don’t feel like … you know, like I forced you? Or took advantage?”

  My mouth drops open in horror. “Garrett. Oh my God, Garrett, no. Never. No. I’m just … the details are a little fuzzy, but I swear to you, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He nods a little, relief clear on his face. “Okay. Okay, Beck. I’d die before I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

  “You don’t have to keep saying you’re sorry,” I tell him. I’m not sorry. Maybe we even—

  “This was a big mistake.”

  Oh.

  I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.

  “I mean— Beck, this was— You’re great.” He’s practically stammering. “But we’re friends. Best friends. You’re, like … oh my god, Beck, you’re the most important person to me. This is just all wrong.”

  All wrong? Really? I feel like what he’s saying is what’s all wrong, like there’s a really important piece he’s missing—a piece we’re both missing. But my head is killing me. I can’t think straight.

  He’s right about one thing, for sure: we’re friends. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to screw that up.

  And, of course, it’s worth remembering that he’s also Garrett. Four to six weeks till expiration, I remind myself.

  Friends are forever. Am I willing to lose my best friend so I can have great sex for a month or two?

  He runs a hand through his hair. “I had a lot to drink. That’s no excuse, and I’m so angry with myself, but I’m just saying. I drank too much and I just … forgot that you’re like my sister.”

  Ick. I say nothing, just thinking for a moment about how gross that sounds.

  “Beck?”

  “Yeah,” I say, faintly. “Big mistake. I’m so glad you think so. I’m sorry, too.” And for the first time since he kissed me last night, I am sorry.

  “It won’t change anything, right?”

  “No,” I say. “No, of course not. Let’s just forget about it. We’re still best friends.”

  There’s an unspoken but in there, but I’m too scared to say it. Maybe because I’m not sure how I want it to end. Maybe the things I’m thinking aren’t so crazy. Maybe I’ve always felt more for Garrett t
han I admitted. Maybe Sam was right.

  Oh my God. Did I just internalize what Sam said, and then act on it to make myself feel better? Did I sleep with Garrett because stupid Sam told me I loved the guy, because I didn’t want Sam to have dumped me for no reason? And what if I lose Garrett forever because I thought for one crazy night that I wanted something more with him? Because I got drunk and forgot we’re just friends?

  I clutch the blanket tighter around me and look back at him. “Best friends,” I say again. “I would never do anything to jeopardize that.”

  I feel tears well in my eyes. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

  Garrett sees it, and his face grows concerned. “Beck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’d never hurt you.” He takes my hand, and there’s no zing there, like there was when he touched me last night. There’s just nothing. “It’s going to be okay,” he says.

  “Will it?” I manage. How I speak without tears falling down my face, I don’t know, but I’m grateful to whatever god of stupid drunk girls is looking after me so I don’t look like a complete fucking loser.

  “Of course it will. It happened, and it was—” He stops, and something crosses his face, an expression that I can’t read. Then it’s replaced by a cheerful expression I can tell isn’t real. “But it won’t happen again.”

  There’s an ache dead center in my chest, a hollow spot that feels a lot like not being able to breathe. But I’m breathing. “So,” I say, “we both agree, just this once? Just a slip, and we’ll put it behind us?”

  “Just this once.” He leans over and puts his arms around me—but this is not like the way he held me last night, or even like the hugs he’s given me before last night. This is shallow, his arms around my shoulders but the rest of him not touching me, and he pulls away quickly. “This isn’t going to change anything. We won’t let it, will we?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  This is so weird, and it’s so heartbreaking, and I don’t even know why. But I just have to get through this, and we’ll go back to the way we were. And everything will be fine.

  “Okay, then. So….” He looks down and takes a breath, looks back up at me. “What about Brianna and Levi?”

  “What about them?”

  “I was just thinking that maybe we don’t need to tell them about this.”

  Wow. I didn’t think I could feel worse than I already do, but that just goes to show that I’m an idiot. I feel like absolute garbage right now.

  “Are you ashamed of me?”

  He looks at me with horror. “God, Beck. No. That’s … no.”

  “Then what?”

  “Total honesty?” He shrugs a little. “I’m ashamed of myself. I think you had a lot to drink—”

  “I knew what I was doing—”

  “And I don’t want them to make a big deal about it. You know they will. And they’ll nag us both to death about what it means and … you know. You don’t need that shit.”

  I nod. “Maybe you’re right,” I say slowly. “They might not understand—”

  “And since it’s never going to happen again—”

  “Right,” I say. “Never again.”

  He pats my hand awkwardly, gets up, and moves toward the door. “Thanks, Beck.”

  “For what?” I mean, honestly. For what? What a weird thing to say.

  “For being my best friend. I’ll see you later, at brunch? Why don’t you get some sleep—you had a rough night.”

  He flashes a half-smile and, just like that, he’s back to being the Garrett I’ve always known. The guy who looks out for me and loves me like a sister. You had a rough night, he says, as though he wasn’t the one who had that night with me.

  And then the door closes behind him.

  I lie back on the bed, and let the tears leak out. I have no idea why I’m crying, but I couldn’t stop if my life depended on it.

  Which, thankfully, it does not. Because I start to cry in earnest—and boy, do I need to cry.

  I try not to think about last night. Whatever happened last night was last night. And now it’s morning, and last night is over. But that just makes me cry harder.

  There’s a knock on the door. I wrap the sheet around me and practically fly out of bed to answer it. He came back. He—

  But it’s Brianna on the other side. She’s smiling when I pull the door open, but as soon as she gets a look at my face, her smile disappears.

  “Beck, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t feel well,” I say, for lack of anything better. “Hangover.”

  “Sure, and pigs’ll fly directly out of my ass,” she says. “Any second now. Why are you crying?”

  I stomp back and throw myself on the bed. “Can’t I just have a hangover?”

  “You can have a hangover every day and twice on Sunday,” she says, climbing up to sit cross-legged on the bed beside me, “but lying to me is unacceptable. Why are you crying?”

  I think about Garrett not wanting Brianna to know, and I wonder how much of that is wanting to protect me, and how much is self-preservation—even if he doesn’t realize it.

  Either way, you know what? Fuck that.

  I sit up, look Brianna in the eye, and tell her everything.

  Well, almost everything. I leave out the part where my heart is breaking.

  Chapter 8

  Garrett

  Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

  That’s all that’s running through my head as I stand in the elevator. I punched the button for the lobby instead of my floor because I need some coffee, and a chance to clear my head before I see anyone else.

  Once downstairs, I stand in the line at the café, which is longer than it needs to be. I need coffee now, before I implode. Or explode. Or whatever. I can’t stop my foot from tapping. Which makes me feel bad, because it makes me look like a dick, and even though I might be one right now—I’m really not.

  Right now is what matters.

  I slept with Beck. What the hell am I going to do?

  For starters, I’m not going to do it again. No matter what happens. You don’t do that with friends—not if you want to keep the friendship.

  But I remember her face when she and I talked about whether to tell Brianna and Levi. There was a flash of something—hurt maybe? I don’t know. All I know is that thinking about that moment, I feel bad. Ashamed. Why, I don’t know.

  My thoughts are interrupted by a tap on my shoulder.

  I jump, and turn to see Levi standing behind me, wearing shorts and a sweaty t-shirt. “You scared the shit out of me,” I say.

  He’s got a weird look on his face. “What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” Christ, I hope I can pull this off.

  “I called you this morning, to see if you wanted to go to the gym with me.”

  “Yeah? I was sleeping.”

  Levi doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I called you more than once.”

  “Man, you know how much we had to drink last night.”

  “You went home before I did.”

  I roll my eyes and try to laugh like there’s no big deal. “Yeah, I had to get Beck home. God, she was drunk, and in a mood!”

  “Yeah?” Levi’s eyebrows went up.

  This might work. “Yeah, she didn’t want to go to bed.” Yes, she did. So did I. “She gave me a lot of grief.”

  “That doesn’t sound like her,” Levi says.

  I shrug. I’m almost home-free. I can do this, I can pull it off. No one ever needs to know that Beck and I stepped over the line.

  “So you didn’t hear me calling?” he asks. Thank Christ he’s changing the subject.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I was pretty passed out.” It’s finally my turn, so I step forward and give my order to the guy behind the counter. “You want something?” I ask Levi.

  Levi shakes his head and holds up his water bottle. “I’m good.”

  We mov
e away from the counter to wait for my coffee.

  “So, you didn’t hear any of my calls?” Levi asks.

  Haven’t we been over this? “No, sorry, man. Everything okay? Why’d you call?”

  “I wanted to see if you wanted to work out.”

  “Not with a hangover, I don’t.” I shrug again. “I’ll stick to coffee.”

  Levi crosses his arms and looks over at the counter. “It’s just weird, man.”

  “What?”

  “I could hear the phone in your room. Probably pissed off your neighbors.” He looks over at me. “Because I called you, like, ten or twelve times. And you slept through it all?”

  I look at him. “Yeah,” I say. “I didn’t hear any of it.”

  “Give me your wallet.”

  “What?”

  “Give it to me, Garrett.”

  “Why?”

  He holds out his hand, wordlessly. The girl behind the counter calls my name, so I hand him my wallet and go get my coffee. It’s strong and black.

  I’m not sure it can save me.

  I walk back to Levi, who’s rifling through the wallet. “Where is it?”

  “What?” I say, even though I know perfectly well what he’s talking about. I can feel heat rushing to my face.

  “The just-in-case. It’s not here.” There’s a world of accusation in that simple statement. “Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

  I don’t say anything. How can I?

  “You did.” He grabs my arms and pulls me out of the café.

  “Hey, man, ease up!”

  He keeps walking until we reach a part of the lobby that doesn’t have a lot of traffic, a cluster of green upholstered wingback chairs and small coffee tables. Then he rounds on me. “Where did you sleep last night?” he demands.

  I debate trying to lie.

  “Dude, do not lie to me. I’m your best friend, and do not lie to me.”

  “Beck was so drunk, I didn’t want to leave her on her own….” My voice trails off as he crosses his arms.

  “Try again,” Levi says.

  “What? I couldn’t leave her alone! What if something happened?”