“Now, what’s your friend’s name?”
“Bethany Masters.”
***
My eyes fluttered open, the glaring light from above almost blinding me. Coop sat next to the bed. I swallowed and looked away; I couldn’t stand to see the pity in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Coop.”
“What the hell, Beth? Since when do you do drugs?” His voice came out harsh, laced with anger and frustration.
I cringed, not in the mood to explain. I didn’t care. I shrugged weakly. “It was stupid. I’m sorry.”
“No, you don’t get to blow me off. You’ve been acting weird since yesterday. Are you angry at me for last night?” He leaned over, running a finger softly over one of my bruises. “Who did this to you, Beth?”
I shook my head as warm tears splashed my cheeks. “Just leave it, Coop. Please.” I rolled over so he wouldn’t see me crying. “Please go. And don’t contact me anymore, okay?”
“What?” he said incredulously, confusion flashing in his eyes.
“Go,” I yelled. “Get out!” I held my breath and waited until I could hear his footsteps fading away.
Chapter One
Beth
Two months later…
The pretty blonde smiled at me as she leaned against the wall, her fingers lingering on my hip. Her deep green eyes caught mine as her hand wandered up the curve of my almost-bare back before wrapping around my neck and pulling me in. Her lips, so soft and feminine, crushed me as her manicured nails dug into the base of my head. I kissed her back, the faint scent of cherry lip-gloss hitting my nose as my tongue curled around hers.
The small crowd of mostly men that had gathered next to us cheered as we kissed, a few wolf whistles echoing over the pounding music. Spurred on by the attention, my hands roamed over the top of her skimpy silk tank, following the curves of her breasts as I gave the boys a show. Another round of cheers erupted as my hand moved under her top, my fingers dipping into the cup of her bra as she giggled and kissed me again.
“Take it off!” someone yelled. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a small group of women standing near the bar, whispering and pointing at us. I rolled my eyes.
Being a twenty-year-old pop star, if they weren’t talking about you, then you were old news, and people were always talking about me. A girl-on-girl experience is practically a rite of passage in the world of pop. If you didn’t do it at least once, you weren’t doing things right. And if you didn’t do it at all, they’d most likely make it up anyway, so why the hell not?
I wasn’t really into girls, but it felt good to wind the boys up, and apparently nothing did that better than making out with another chick. I could hear the sound of clicking cameras in the distance, and I knew this would probably end up on the front page of some magazine tomorrow.
Bethany Masters’ Lesbian Romp.
But who really gave a damn? I didn’t.
I’d tried being the good girl, and nobody had cared—least of all him. The gossip columns were forever making things up about me, so it wasn’t like I actually had a reputation to ruin here. And besides, being bad felt good. It dulled the pain of losing him and . . . the rape.
I shuddered, Ivan’s face flashing through my mind. Having to see him every day was hard. The way he looked at me, like he had won. All reporting him would have done is give him the satisfaction of everyone knowing what had happened, or at least what I claimed to have happened. It was hard enough to prove a rape without all my history. Sucking it up and moving on was my way of not letting him win.
But that didn’t stop the nightmares, or the pain I felt, or that every time I closed my eyes he was what I saw, over me . . . inside me.
This? Going out, getting drunk, and acting up?
This was how I coped. Alcohol fixed everything. It took away all those niggling little thoughts in the back of my head that reminded me of that night. Alcohol transformed me from the scared, vulnerable girl I had become into someone with no problems and no inhibitions. Without it, I don’t know how I’d have survived the last two months. Who cared what effect it was having on my life? Getting through each day was all that mattered. It stopped my every thought from going back to how Coop had deserted me when I’d needed him most.
In his defense, our relationship hadn’t exactly been normal. I’d been paying him for sex. Somehow, I’d fallen hard for him; then he’d fallen for some other woman, and I’d been left with nobody. I could’ve gotten past that, but we were supposed to have been friends. Friends don’t treat each other the way he’d treated me. The moment she felt insecure about his friendship, he’d cut me off. I’d been there for him when he’d needed help, and it hurt that he hadn’t done the same for me.
Fuck him. I didn’t need anyone. I’d handled the last five years before him on my own, so I sure as hell could handle myself now.
***
“Here we go,” I yelled to the cheering crowd as I downed another shot. The liquid burned as it slid down my throat, the buzz from the alcohol filling my head, blocking everything else out.