Be Good Page 2

  When he ran into the bathroom, I did my best to compose myself and when he returned he handed me a pile of tissues. I blew my nose into the entire pile and Brett chuckled.

  “I must look really great. Not only am I hung over, now I’m a blubbering mess.”

  “You’re beautiful,” Brett said seriously. The intensity of his gaze made me shudder.

  “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  Brett looked confused.

  “Being beautiful is meaningless. It’s not something I earned. I didn’t work for it. I just got lucky in the genetic lottery.”

  Brett shook his head. “It’s not just about how you look, Anna. Being beautiful is about who you are.”

  “If that’s the case, then I’m not much more than a sarcastic bitch.”

  “I wish you could see what I see.”

  I let out one laugh. “Maybe you need to have your eyes checked.”

  “Maybe we’d better eat some of this food before it gets cold.” Brett grabbed a piece of toast and bit into it. “It’s already buttered.” He put the piece up to my lips. “Take a bite.”

  I reluctantly did as I was told. He was right. The toast was good. I was surprised that I actually had an appetite. And even more surprised that Brett had so easily talked me into taking a bite of his food without me giving a sarcastic remark like, “What am I five years old?”

  “Would you like me to feed you your eggs, too?” Brett had a huge grin on his face. I guessed he had a little sarcasm in him, too.

  “No, I think I can handle it.” I picked up my fork and jabbed at the scrambled eggs in front of me and put them in my mouth. “Mmm, these are good, too.”

  Brett poked at his eggs and took a bite. He nodded in agreement.

  After he swallowed, he asked, “So, why me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You could have had your pick of eligible bachelors at the wedding last night, why did you hit on me?”

  I shrugged. How could I tell him I didn’t remember? I poked at my eggs. They suddenly didn’t seem as appetizing.

  “Anna,” Brett said. I glanced up him. He continued. “I just want you to know that I normally don’t do this.”

  “Do what?” I asked obviously clueless.

  “This,” he emphasized as if it made all the sense in the world.

  I tried to think of all the possible things he could mean by this. Eat in bed? Eat eggs and toast in bed? Get room service?

  He sighed, clearly exasperated. “A one-night stand.” He actually whispered it as if there was someone else in the room who could hear him.

  “Never?” I managed to choke out. I hoped he didn’t think I was being rude; I was just surprised. We had gone to college together. Most of the people we were friends with hooked up at least a few times. And there were people like me who hooked up way more than a few times (Flaw 17: Anna’s a slut.)

  He shook his head.

  “So you’ve had an actual relationship with all the girls you’ve been with?”

  I could see he was thinking carefully about his next response. “Girl,” he admitted finally.

  “What,” I blurted.

  His face turned serious. “I said girl. Singular.”

  I could feel myself blinking and I couldn’t stop. I was trying very hard to process what I thought I just heard. “Girl, as in one?”

  “That is the definition of singular, yes. I guess you weren’t an English major.”

  I was struck speechless, which may have never happened before. I always had at least one snappy comeback for everything.

  “I dated Becca for three years in college,” he explained. “She was number one.”

  “There was no one before Becca? No one in high school?” I knew I sounded like I was cross-examining him but I couldn’t help myself. Being 23-years old, a year out of college and only having been with one other person besides me was not something I could easily comprehend. Not when there were a few too many weekends when I’d been with more than one person.

  He nodded.

  “And no one since we graduated? We’ve been out of college a whole year.” Going a year without sex was also something I couldn’t comprehend but it made sense now why I had seen multiple condoms in the bathroom garbage pail and he said he had been inside of me half the night. The man had obviously been sexually starved.

  “Becca and I tried to keep a long distance thing going after we graduated but it didn’t work out. Plus, I work a lot. I’ve been trying to build my career. I haven’t had time to date anyone since Becca.”

  “So, that makes me number two?” I couldn’t believe the words were coming out of my mouth. “But why?”

  “Why what?” His eyes narrowed.

  “Why would you sleep with me when you’ve only been with one other person?”

  Now he was the one poking at his eggs. “The first time I saw you was our freshman year, at the big Greek Row Homecoming Bash. You were wearing a bright pink short sleeved sweater and a black mini skirt.”

  How the hell did he remember that? I can’t even remember what I wore last week and he can remember what I was wearing our freshman year of college?

  He continued but he still wasn’t looking at me. He was still poking at his eggs. “I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. I watched the way you were so confident and sure of yourself with everyone, even the most popular guys.”

  If only he knew how insecure and unsure of myself I actually was and still am (Flaw 26). I guess I hide it pretty well.

  When he finally looked up at me, his eyes were watery. “Every guy at that party had his eyes on you, including me, but I knew I’d never in a million years have a chance with you. I saw you around campus after that and at parties, every once and a while. Every time I saw you, you took my breath away. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you but you never noticed me. Not that I expected you to. I always knew you were way out of my league. Then last night, you actually looked at me. You talked to me. You flirted with me. I couldn’t believe you wanted to be with me. I knew it was the only chance I’d probably ever have to be with you, even if it was just for one night, so I took it.”

  My withered heart swelled a little bit more.

  I couldn’t believe he had thought so much of me and that he had thought so much of us being together. And I didn’t even remember it. I had been with more guys than I could even count and I was his number two. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and I had an overwhelming urge to escape. I didn’t want him to find out that I didn’t remember talking to him, or flirting with him or even being with him. How shitty would that be after his big confession of longing to be with me? I generally didn’t care about anyone’s feelings, even my own, (although I’ve been accused more than a few times of not having any feelings at all Flaw 6). Why did I care so damn much about Brett’s feelings all of a sudden?

  I stood up. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Are you okay?” He had worry in his eyes.

  I had to get out of there before he found out. I quickly scanned the room for my dress and shoes and purse. That’s when I noticed he had placed all of my things, which had been strewn about the room last night, on the table in the corner. I grabbed my stuff but he grabbed my arm before I could make it out the door.

  “You can’t just leave like this.”

  “Why not?” I knew my tone was clipped. Being mean to get out of the room would be a lot more humane that him finding out the truth.

  He blinked a few times as if he was searching for the right words. “Because I don’t want you to.”

  My withered heart actually fluttered a bit. It felt strange—good but unfamiliar. It definitely wasn’t something I was used to. I didn’t normally do feelings or emotions, other than anger and rage.

  Angry words spewed from my mouth. “Why? Do you want to fuck me again? You didn’t get enough last night. You want another piece?”

  He dropped my arm. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just want to spend
time with you.”

  He was so sincere it made me want to punch him. Or kiss him. Maybe both. I decided on the former rather than the later but not in the literal sense. I didn’t have to lay a hand on a guy to give him a blow to the gut.

  “What did you think was going to happen, Brett? Did you think because we fucked that I was going to be your girlfriend? There’s a reason they call it a one-night stand. It was a hook up. Nothing more. Deal with it. You live in Palo Alto. I live here in Phoenix. We’ll probably never see each other again.”

  He looked like I had just punched him. Score a direct hit. Now it was time to make my exit.

  “I may not be smart (Flaw 4) and I may not be nice (Flaw 12) but I do know when I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

  “What are you talking about?” He seemed confused. I thought I was being pretty damn clear.

  “I’m going back to my room.”

  “I mean the flaws with numbers.”

  “People aren’t shy about telling me how flawed I am. Some people aren’t shy about telling me repeatedly. I decided to make a list. I have one hundred and twenty six flaws.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “You’re really messed up.”

  “I know. It’s flaw 38. Now can I leave?”

  “Just one more thing. How much do you remember about last night?”

  Shit. I froze. I could feel my stuff fall from hands but I was physically unable to stop it from dropping to the floor. Was I scared? I didn’t remember what that felt like. The last time I remembered being scared was when I broke my arm falling from a tree house. I was eight.

  Brett seemed to be looking right through me. I found it hard to swallow and I could feel my heart racing. How did this man manage to make me feel so many things I hadn’t felt in years?

  “How much do you remember?” he pressed.

  “Nothing,” I shouted. “Is that what you want me to say? Is that what you want to hear? That I don’t remember a God damn thing. There. I said it. Are you happy now?”

  “No,” he said solemnly.

  The look on Brett’s face was beyond hurt, beyond pain. It was complete and utter disgust. He shook his head as if he could shake everything that happened between us away. Or maybe he was trying to shake me away? He reached down, grabbed my stuff from the floor and handed it to me.

  “Maybe you’re right.” His expression was pained. “Maybe it is time for you to go.”

  I didn’t even glance back as I ran down the hallway.

  I just about made it to my room before I started crying again. I flopped on the unused bed, buried my head in the oversized pillow and sobbed. I had cried more in one day being with Brett than I had in the last ten years.

  When my tear ducts ran completely dry (at least I hoped they had), I took an extremely hot shower. The water soothed my raw nerves a bit but I just couldn’t scrub myself enough to feel clean.

  I never felt bad about hooking up with someone but what I did to Brett made me feel dirty. I wished I could have remembered just one thing about being with him but I truly didn’t and it made me feel awful. It was strange to think that all those years he felt like he didn’t deserve to be with me and now I was the one who felt like I didn’t deserve to be with him.

  After I dressed and packed and was ready to leave, I noticed a note had been slid under my door. It was a piece of hotel notepaper folded in half. It had my name written on the front. When I opened the note, it said, “I’m so sorry.”

  That’s it. Just: I’m so sorry. I assumed it was from Brett but I couldn’t be sure because he hadn’t even signed his name. I placed the note in the front pocket of my jeans and headed to the lobby.

  I checked out of my room and dragged my suitcase out to my Kia Soul. As I was placing my bag in the back, I heard a voice call my name.

  I turned and saw one of the other bridesmaids, Tiffany, headed in my direction.

  “A bunch of us are staying for brunch if you want to join us. I tried to find you last night to tell you but you must have gone to bed early.”

  Something like that, I thought. “Sure, why not.” It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. I was one of the few people in our social circle who had grown up in the Phoenix area, gone to college in town and stayed in town after graduation. I lived on the other side of the Valley, about 30 minutes from the hotel. The only reasons I had booked a room was because I knew I would be drunk by the end of the night (I had to take advantage of the open bar) and the wedding rate was cheap. It was also a plus that I didn’t have to spend the night with my freaky roommate and her evil cat.

  “We’ve got a large table reserved in the restaurant. You can’t miss it.” She hurried away to catch another guy I sort of recognized from the wedding, who was a few cars down from mine. He was also putting his suitcase in his trunk.

  I locked my car and headed into the restaurant. It was eleven o’clock. Kind of in between breakfast and lunch, so the place was pretty empty. There was a large table set up in the back for about twenty people. I guessed it was set up for us. There was only one person seated at the end of the table and when I got closer, I gasped when I saw it was Brett.

  He nearly leapt out of the seat when he saw me. “Anna,” he gulped. Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

  He caught me. I had put his shirt back on after my shower. Somehow, it had made me feel better.

  “Do you want it back?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Right now?”

  He was still nodding. I couldn’t tell if the nodding was just because he was still in shock from seeing me again or if he really wanted his shirt back. It wouldn’t have been the first time I was half naked in public, so I started to take the shirt off.

  “No,” he yelled. “I don’t want the shirt back. That’s not what I meant.”

  I wondered what he did mean.

  “I like seeing you in my clothes.” The way he said it made me wonder if he knew what had actually come out of his mouth and it wasn’t something he thought.

  “I like Pearl Jam,” I said because I couldn’t think of anything else.

  “Did you get my note?”

  I pulled it from my jean’s pocket and held it up.

  “Good.”

  Before I could say another word, Jason Richards, one of the groomsmen, came up behind Brett and messed up his hair. “Hey, Clown Hair,” he joked. “Did you have fun last night?”

  Brett’s eyes darted to me quickly then he looked up at Jason. “Yeah, I did.”

  I eyed Jason. “I don’t know why you still call him that. He obviously doesn’t have clown hair anymore.”

  Jason glanced at me and his baby blue eyes lit up. “Hey, Beautiful. Now why didn’t I see you last night?” He gave me the once-over. “Looking hot as ever, Babe.”

  Jason was hot, too, and I had hooked up with him a few times while we were in college, even though he had a pretty steady girlfriend. In the times he and his girlfriend were off Jason and I got together. I thought someone told me they were on again. It never stopped him from flirting though.

  When I glanced at Brett, he was staring at me, his expression unreadable. He was just looking at me, like he was trying to put puzzle pieces together and figure me out. He could try for an eternity and he would probably never completely fit all my crazy pieces together.

  I felt someone grab my arm. It was Tiffany. “I’m glad you came.” She dragged me to the other side of the table. “Did you hear that Rachelle spent the night in Mitch’s room? What a little wedding slut,” she said as we both took seats. If she only knew…

  Tiffany had been talking my ear off telling me gossip about nearly every person we had graduated with and what they had been doing in the year since graduation when I suddenly felt the desire to look at my watch. It was close to one o’clock. I looked down at the other end of the table and noticed that it was clearing out. Brett’s seat was empty.

  He was gone.

  And he hadn’t eve
n said goodbye.

  Two

  When I walked into my apartment, one of my wishes came true, my freaky roommate was nowhere to be seen. I breathed a small sigh of relief as I threw my suitcase into my bedroom.

  But when I went to fire up my laptop, her evil cat was nesting on top of it. Ugh. How many times did I have to tell her to keep that vile thing out of my bedroom?

  I never wanted a roommate. After sharing a dorm room with Miss Perfect my last two years of college (I had to beg my parents to let me move out because they lived so close to campus), I had enough of roommates. Unfortunately, my job as a paralegal at my brother’s law firm didn’t earn me enough to pay all of my bills on my own. Of course, my brother thought he was doing me a big favor when he suggested I move in with his law partner’s sister, Winter Raven. That’s her legal name. She told me she had her named changed the day she turned 18. She said Winter Raven was a better fit for her spiritual destiny. It sounded like a load of horseshit to me. I have no idea what her birth name was and never cared enough to ask. I called her the freak because that’s what she was, and I stayed away from her and her freak friends as much as possible. They called themselves Wiccans and often stayed out all night when there was a full moon. She never wore anything but black and her hair was dyed jet black to match. She also had a lot of tats and piercings. She worked at some kind of New Age bookstore. I’m sure it was because that was the only place that would hire her looking like she just stepped out of an Anne Rice convention. Did I happen to mention Flaw 92? I’m apparently very judgmental.

  Of course, Winter’s evil cat was all black, too. I wondered if the freak knew what a walking cliché she was. I shooed her evil cat from my laptop and she hissed at me on her way out of my bedroom. I always kept my bedroom door locked at night so the evil cat couldn’t murder me in my sleep. I heard stories about cats lying on people and suffocating them in the middle of the night. I knew her evil cat was definitely capable of such malice.

  I fired up my laptop and hopped over to Facebook. As I suspected, I had already been tagged on hundreds of photos from the wedding. I wanted to carefully inspect every photo to see if it would bring back any memories of the events of the evening.