Promiscuous (Tease 2)

His voice shoved me back to reality. I jerked away, pushing the chair into him. He looked up, his mouth falling open as I sprinted for the door, scooping up my bag in the process. He laughed.

“God, Beth, you’re not still on about this, are you?” He shook his head, as though he were dealing with a child. “You were so drunk, honey. Whatever you think you remember, you’ve got it wrong. You were just as into it as I was.”

I grabbed the door handle and yanked it open, desperate to get out of there.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Ivan,” I spat. I was shaking so badly, but I refused to let him see how much he was getting to me.

He chuckled. “Gladly, honey. But just in case you get any ideas, remember what I told you, okay?”

I stalked off, holding my bag to my stomach, trying to calm myself down. Only once I was outside of the building did I let the tears fall.

I never cried, not before the attack. But he had me and he knew it. I was under contract to him for another two years. If I broke that, I’d lose all my money. Worse than that, I’d lose it to him. It would be my word against his, and who was going to believe me?

Suck it up and deal with it.

I wouldn’t let him win. I refused to crumble because of him. Or, at the very least, I refused to crumble in front of him.

***

I climbed into the safety of my bed, clinging tightly to the sheets nestled safely up around my neck. I refused to cry again. I wasn’t going to waste my tears on something I couldn’t change.

So my life sucked. I could either continue to spiral down the hole I was heading, or I could do something about it. If I kept this up, then he’d win. And I’d probably be dead within the year. The reality was, it was up to me what happened from this point onward.

My phone vibrated next to me. I reached for it and saw it was another message from Coop. A surge of anger rushed through me. Was he ever going to give up? How the fuck could I get over this if he wouldn’t let me forget?

Beth, I just want you to know I’m here for you. Whatever is going on, you don’t have to do it alone.

I laughed bitterly. He was here for me? What a load of crap. I tossed the phone down on the floor and rolled over, staring at the wall. He couldn’t help me. The truth was nobody could. I was the only one who could get me through this.

But it was never that easy, was it?

Chapter Five

Beth

Maybe what I need is a day in bed. A day of nothing.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, hundreds of thoughts racing through my mind like tiny pieces of a puzzle that wouldn’t quite fit together. I was still angry from the shoot the day before. And at Coop for—well, for the sake of being angry at someone.

Ever since Mia had come into his life, it had been one broken promise after another. She didn’t like me, and I understood that. If I were in her position I’d probably feel the same way. But that night at the bar and the day after were the last straw. I’d needed him, and he hadn’t been there for me. That hurt me more than anything else in my life had. Now, as much as I missed him, I couldn’t put myself out there to be hurt again. That was why I drank.

Anything to block out the memories of that night. I knew I blamed Coop because I needed someone to blame. I had to let the anger out on someone. If I didn’t, I’d go crazy.

Right now, he was the focus of my anger. I couldn’t take that out on Ivan, and if I let it build up inside me I’d go crazy. It wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t control how I felt.

It wasn’t his fault Ivan had raped me. I just needed someone to blame.

It had been more than two months since the attack, and I wasn’t coping. The one thing about me was, I’d always been good at masking my feelings. To those who didn’t know me, I was just the same as I always was: the party girl who never stopped.

Only people who knew me well—not that there were many of them—weren’t fooled so easily. Like Coop.

The thing that scared me most about people finding out was what they’d think of me. I stayed off the internet as much as I could, but sometimes I’d Google my name and read the comments about me. I was a slut. A whore—which was funny, because last time I’d checked, I’d never been paid for sex. I could only imagine what they’d say about me being raped.

There is no right or wrong way to deal with that kind of assault. In my head, I knew I shouldn’t have to feel embarrassed about how I felt, and how I’d responded. This was my way of coping. If I didn’t have that, then I had nothing. I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me that my way of coping was wrong, but at the same time, I feared that response. Fuck anyone who thinks everyone should react the same way.

The night after the rape was the last time I’d seen Coop. I’d been invited over for dinner, and let’s just say things got a little out of hand. Not that I remembered much. A few days in the hospital and I’d still told nobody, though the nurse had asked me if I’d been assaulted: there was bruising around my thighs that was consistent with an assault. I’d just laughed and told her I liked it rough. Not convinced, she had persuaded me to be tested for STD’s and pregnancy. Thankfully, all came back negative.

That was the last time I’d ever touch coke. The first and last. I knew it was messed up, but at that point all I wanted to do was forget. But coke . . . I’d seen what that shit could do to people.