Be Good A New Adult Romance (RE12)(2)

Maybe if I could get the drummers in my head to stop pounding on my temples, I would feel a little better. “Do you have any aspirin?”

“Just a sec.” He went back into the bedroom and I could hear him rustling around in his bags. He came back holding up two white tablets. “I found some.”

He grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it in the bathroom sink then he handed me the pills and the water glass. “Thanks.” I downed the aspirin and all of the water.

“It’s a good idea to hydrate after drinking. Would you like some more water?”

I nodded. I was about to get up but he grabbed the glass from my hand and refilled it then handed it back to me. “Thanks, again.” This time I sipped the water more slowly.

“You had on your bridesmaid dress last night. I don’t think you want to put that back on again, do you? I can give you a tee shirt and pair of shorts of mine to wear. They’ll be big on you, obviously. Or I can go to our room and get your stuff?”

He could go to my room if I could actually remember what room I was in. Was it 226 or maybe 262? (Thanks to Flaw 8: a bad memory and Flaw 16: a tendency to drink to excess and lose said memory.)

“I guess I’ll wear your shorts and tee shirt, if you don’t mind.”

He shrugged. “Why would I mind?”

He exited and I could hear him rustling through his stuff again. He returned with a pair of jogging shorts and a red Pearl Jam tee shirt. I also noticed he had gathered my bra and underwear from the floor and added them to the small pile. He handed me the clothes.

I don’t know why having Brett watch me get dressed felt awkward and a little embarrassing. It was a ridiculous feeling. As he had pointed out, we had been intimate all night.

I averted his gaze while I tried to step into my underwear but was immediately struck by the fact that my legs weren’t working exactly the way I wanted them to. When Brett grabbed my arm to steady me, I realized the reason he was standing there watching me probably wasn’t to get a show, he wanted to make sure I was okay.

Brett continued to hold me steady as I pulled my undies up and then he helped me put the shorts on. They were baggy and I felt like a puppet in them but they would have to do. I definitely didn’t want to do the walk of shame back to my room wearing my bridesmaid dress.

I put on my bra then Brett helped me into the tee shirt. “At least you have good taste in music,” I pointed out. “I don’t know what I would have done if you marched in here with a boy band tee shirt.”

“I have great taste in music,” Brett corrected. “Pearl Jam is one of the all-time greatest bands.”

I smiled. “They’re actually my favorite band.”

“Mine, too,” Brett agreed.

We both looked at each other for a moment and a tiny bit more of my withered heart expanded.

“I know you probably don’t want to think about food but maybe you should at least try to eat something. A little scrambled eggs and toast? I was thinking about getting room service. How about it?”

I could feel my stomach churning at the thought of food. “I don’t know,” I muttered as my hand instinctively moved to my stomach.

“Even if it’s just a few bites, I think it’ll settle your stomach.”

I sighed. Normally I had no trouble saying no to anyone ever. I could tear someone to shreds with my razor sharp tongue (Flaw 10). But Brett had so much warmth in his eyes it was hard for me to say no to him. I’m not sure what is was about him but he brought out something in me that was rarely seen, like a star nosed mole or a frill necked lizard. Brett brought out nice Anna.

“Okay,” I agreed as we exited the bathroom.

Brett hopped over to the phone and ordered us eggs, toast and coffee. Then he grabbed another tee shirt from his suitcase, this one with Green Day, and slipped it over his head.

“Another great band,” I commented.

“How could you doubt my musical taste?” he teased.

I suddenly felt a twinge of sadness. I had slept with Brett, shared my body with him, yet I knew nothing about him. I thought about all of the guys I had been with and how little I really knew about them, how little I cared to know about them and how little they cared to know about me. My love life (if you could call it that) had been little more than a series of casual hook ups.

When I looked at Brett, he was staring at me. “What?” he inquired when our eyes met.

“Nothing,” I replied even though there was so much more going on inside my head. How could I possibly admit that I remembered nothing about our being together when it was becoming clear that it had meant something to Brett?

Brett pulled on a pair of jeans and I noticed how well he filled them out. He really did have a nice body. I would have loved to remember having sex with him.

“Lie down on the bed with me until the food gets here,” he suggested.

Brett grabbed my hand and led me over to the bed. He lay down and I got into the bed next to him. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television. He flipped through some stations until he found an old movie playing, The Breakfast Club.

“I love this movie,” we both said at the same time.

We looked at each other and laughed.

“John Hughes movies are the best,” Brett declared .

“My favorite is definitely Pretty in Pink.”

“And what about Sixteen Candles?”

I nodded.

“And Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” we both stated at the same time and laughed again.

“You can rest your head on my chest if you want,” Brett offered. I wasn’t the type to cuddle (Flaw 42). The few clingy guys I had dated, mostly in high school, made me feel trapped by their constant need for me to be close. I guess Brett sensed my hesitation because he quickly said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I understand.”

I compromised. I placed my hand on his chest. I could see a small smile form in the corners of his mouth. Then he placed his hand over mine.

I don’t believe in coincidences and I rarely have good luck but I noticed that our food arrived exactly as the movie ended.

“Great timing.” Brett flipped off the television and hurried over to the door. The ease with which he did everything and the comfort he seemed to feel in his own skin actually made me a bit jealous. I never felt completely comfortable with anyone and I felt the least comfortable with myself.

When the waiter left, Brett carried our food tray over to the bed. “Breakfast in bed, for my lady,” he said with a cheesy fake British accent. He was a little corny but it was cute. And no one had ever gone to the trouble of providing me breakfast in bed.

Brett sat down across from me on the bed with the meal tray between us. “Dig in. I’m starving!.”

“Aren’t you the least bit hung over?” When I looked up at Brett all the color had drained from his face.

“I don’t drink,” he said seriously. “Ever.”

I gulped. The way he said it was almost pained. But why? Had he told me and I had forgotten? I racked my brain to try and remember but nothing came to me.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay,” he said but I knew he was lying. It wasn’t okay. Nothing about the night we had spent together was okay.

Then something strange happened. I could feel my cheeks getting wet. Moisture was dripping down my face and it was coming from my eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Brett whispered and I wondered if I had heard him correctly.

“I don’t cry,” I snuffled. “I never cry. It’s flaw number five.”

“Apparently you do.” He came around to my side of the bed and took me in his arms. As he held me tightly I could feel myself sobbing. WTF? I felt like I was observing myself from outside my own body. I was probably eight years old the last time I remembered shedding a tear now I was quickly deteriorating into a sobbing heap.

“It’s okay,” Brett whispered. “I’m right here.”

Brett continued to hold me tight in his arms as I let it all out. Years of bottled up emotions seemed to pour out of me. I could feel snot running down my nose and before I could ask, Brett said, “I’d better get you some tissues.”

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.”