Page 50 of Wicked Nasty

Becca pulls away from me. “Stop apologizing. Please.”

Confused, I lean against the counter. “But I hurt you?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “It's not what you think.”

If I didn't hurt her physically, then why was she crying?

Leaning closer to her, I can see the goosebumps form on her arms.

“So you're not hurt?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“But you were crying…”

Becca thrusts my freshly bandaged hand towards me. “There. Your hand is clean now. Just make sure you clean up your mess before your parents get home.”

Without another word, she walks out of the bathroom, pulling her shirt on and heads towards the balcony.

As much as I want to chase after her and make things right, I know she's right. My parents would kill me if they saw the mess I made.

But as I scrub the blood off the gym floor, all I can think about is Becca and how I've once again let my anger get the best of me.

Lyinginbed,mymind is still reeling from the intense encounter with Becca. I can't shake off the guilt and confusion about how rough I was with her. She was crying, but then she seemed to enjoy it? It's all so confusing.

Suddenly, there's a loud noise on the balcony and I jump out of bed to see what's going on. Through the window, I see Becca moving furniture around with a box under one arm, a joint between her fingers, and my lacrosse sweatshirt on.

Seeing my name on her ignites something in me. Despite everything, I can't help but feel a small sense of warmth as I watch her cursing under her breath.

Becca may appear tough on the outside, but deep down, she's just as complex and vulnerable as anyone else.

And despite my efforts to distance myself from her, she continues to chip away at my walls and make me question everything I thought I knew about her.

I cautiously open the door, trying not to startle Becca, who is already on edge. She jumps at the sound and turns to face me.

“Hey,” I murmur.

“Hello.”

I nod towards the box in her lap. "Who are the letters from?"

"None of your business," she snaps back, shutting down once again.

I take a seat next to her, snatching the joint in her hand. After taking a puff, I hand it back to her.

"Why can't you just tell me?"

Becca's eyes shoot daggers at me. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Was she that au pair who ghosted you?"

She turns to me, shoving me out of my chair with unexpected force.

"What the fuck, Becca?!" I exclaim, landing on the floor with a thud.

With a sneer on her face, she hisses at me. "I said don't talk about it. Don't ever fucking speak about her again."

Becca puts her hand out, and I take it, standing up. We both sit down once more, but this time there is a heavy silence lingering between us.

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