Hard Beat

And the fact that I’m thinking all of this with my head pressed to her hotel room door because I feel bad I pushed her away and hurt her feelings proves all of my overly introspective thinking right.

My God this place fucks with your head. Although I’m sure the shots of Fireball don’t help either.

Just as I get a grip on my rambling thoughts, I fall forward as the door opens inward. I stumble inside, and all I see is her back as she’s walking away from me farther into the room. And fuck me, she’s wearing short shorts that cling to her ass, highlighting every damn line of her legs, and a tank top so sheer in color, I swear I can see the bronze of her skin through it. Of course my mind immediately jumps to the thought of what the front of her tank looks like and if her nipples are pressed against the thin material.

I shake the thought from my head and kick the door shut behind me as she sits on the edge of the bed facing the window with her back toward me. “Save your breath, Tanner. I got your message loud and clear. I was only good enough that first night when you considered me disposable, but now that I’m here to stay…” She laughs derisively. “I’m no longer good enough for you.”

I’m definitely the asshole for putting that hurt tone in her voice. “That’s not it.” My words come out on a sigh when I continue to explain. “It’s a lot more than that, Beaux.”

“It’s BJ to you, Tanner.”

That simple statement stings deeply, and now that the taste of the rejection is fresh on my tongue, I don’t like it at all. I don’t know how to explain – what I need to say and what I want to say are two different things.

“Beaux…”

“No, you don’t get to Beaux me. You lost that right,” she says as she turns to face me, and damn it to hell, the sight of her is like a one-two combo punch. First her sheer beauty with her face bare of any makeup and hair piled on top of her head and two, that I was right about exactly what I’d be able to see through the damn fabric of her shirt. “You kissed me today like a man who wanted more and then walked away the minute you realized you wanted more. You know why? Because I got to you. I heard what you said upstairs loud and clear. But it’s the things you aren’t saying that I think you need to listen to.”

“You’re so far off base!” I’m practically stuttering in my rush to deny it, needing to refute what she’s said only because she’s hitting way too fucking close to home.

“Keep telling yourself that.” She stands and takes a step closer to me. “You like me and yet you can’t admit it for some reason. You’re so damn busy trying to keep me at arm’s length because of your trust issues that you can’t see what’s sitting right in front of your damn face. As much as I want you, I won’t be coming on to you again. No. Not after what you said to me upstairs.” She pauses, and it’s like her words have knocked mine from my tongue.

She walks toward the window, then stops and turns to look me in the eye. “There’s something between us. You can’t deny that, Tanner – a blind man would be able to sense it… You’re so quick to accuse me of playing games, and yet you’re calling more shots than a bartender. Have sex with me and then get mad at me. Kiss me and stalk away like I’m at fault. I’m here to do my job, not get sucked into whatever this is so my head gets messed up and I can’t perform… So I think it’s best that you leave my room.”

With those final words she turns, slides into her bed, and turns the light off, effectively ending the conversation without giving me a chance to respond. And maybe that’s for the best, because she’s just unloaded so many truths on me that I don’t even know which one to focus on first. I just stand there in the darkness with her comments suffocating the air around me.

I’ve never been at a loss for words when it comes to a woman, let alone an argument, and yet I am right now and it’s unnerving. And exhilarating in an odd way to know that someone can see so clearly inside of you that you’re not sure you want them to see. But I guess I should expect this from her after what I saw through the lens of her camera – she already knows all of this.

“Stella was my one constant over the past ten years.” The confession is out of my mouth before I even realize it, and I instantly wonder if this is my apology in the form of an explanation, the comfort of the darkness around us allowing the words to come. She doesn’t say anything in response, but she stills in bed, and I know I have her attention.

“We met when we were assigned together, butted heads instantly, but fell into bed not too long after we met.” The minute the words are out, it’s like my subconscious finally acknowledges the correlation between Stella and me and now Beaux and me. The similarities become clear for the first time. Is this why I keep rejecting Beaux one minute and then pulling her in the next? Damn. The thought staggers me. Because I’ve been so busy trying to figure out just what her angle is, I haven’t noticed the parallels in the start of our relationships.

“And…” It’s all Beaux says, but her voice has softened, and I’m grateful that she allows me the moment to digest this newfound revelation. It’s one that should have been slapping me in the face, and yet I never realized it through my grief and obstinacy.

“It didn’t last, obviously. We had fun during that getting-to-know-you stage, but it fell apart. Immaturity and stress from the job and from essentially living with each other from the first date on took its toll after about a year. We felt smothered, and that led to nasty fights. And yet we still had to work together.” I lower myself to sit on the edge of the bed as the memories I thought I’d forgotten over time come back in bittersweet fashion. “Those first few months after we broke things off were brutal between us. It’s never good to work with an ex… but somehow over time the situation that tore us apart as lovers made us stronger as friends and partners. I don’t know… It’s hard to explain. She was my best friend for ten years. We were inseparable…” My voice trails off as emotion clogs my throat.