Beth Michele - Scarred Beautiful

“I was with Caleb, and if he isn’t the sweetest thing.” She pauses and exhales a breath. “And so sexy, too.” She touches her fingers to her lips. “Oh my God, Fran, the guy can kiss. I honestly could have kissed him all night.”

I can’t help but smile, she’s acting like a girl who just had her first date. “ So, I ask again, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you off kissing Caleb?”

“I guess I wanted to play a little hard to get.” She lets out a huge groan. “But now, I’m kind of regretting my decision.” She puts both arms over her face, covering her eyes. “Now I’m all hot and bothered.”

I laugh, slapping her leg, and she flinches. “Well, can’t do much for you there, I’m not into girls.”

She lifts her arms away, revealing a smirk. “Ha ha. So what happened with you and Mr. Broody?”

“Mr. Broody,” I repeat, mulling the name over in my head. “Nothing. He just escorted me upstairs. That’s it.”

Peyton leans up on her elbows, glaring at me. “You didn’t even kiss the guy?”

“No. It’s not that I didn’t want to, though. He’s all kinds of hot with a dab of uptight. I like teasing him to see if I can get a rise out of him.”

She quirks a brow, her lips curving into a grin. “Oh, I’m sure you could get a rise out of him.”

Our laughter engulfs the room and I lie down on the bed next to her. My robe shifts, her fingers accidentally grazing the burn scars on my thigh, and she blanches, bolting upright, her eyes wide in shock. I hold my breath, wanting to avoid this, desperate to run.

“What happened, Fran?”

Peyton and I have only been roommates for a short time and I’m very careful that she doesn’t see my scars. I don’t know why, really. I guess it’s because I hate having to explain myself all over again and dredge up painful memories I’d rather leave behind. I’ll never leave them behind, though, because they’re always chasing me, threatening to expose my secrets at every turn.

I immediately slide off the bed, covering my legs with my robe, keeping my face hidden. “It’s nothing, really. I need to get to sleep, Peyton. You should probably go.”

She jumps from the bed and touches my elbow softly. “It doesn’t look like nothing, Fran. It looks like a whole lot of something. Who did that to you?”

I take a deep breath, attempting to calm the wave of tension rolling through my body at having this conversation with her. The idea that she means well is in the forefront of my mind, although it doesn’t squelch the bile churning my stomach, making it impossible for me to get the words out. But I’m suddenly struck with what Gabby said to me her last night in our apartment. “Take another chance, Fran. You have to let someone in. Let someone care for you.” I don’t think she was referring to Peyton, but if I ever want our friendship to move to the next level then I at least have to try.

Turning to face her, I gather some courage and say the two words that have always caused me nothing but pain and utter devastation, leaving my life in a state of ruin. “My dad.”

“Jesus, Fran,” is the only thing she says before pulling me into a hug, wrapping her arms around me, comforting me. A single droplet slides down my cheek, the cheek of a twenty-eight year old woman who has undergone years of therapy yet still can’t manage to say those two words without tears.

“I’m so, so sorry.” She squeezes me tighter before backing away to examine me. “Thank you for telling me,” she says, sincerity lacing the rich, brown depth of her eyes. “You know,” she starts, “when I was sixteen years old, my best friend Susie….” She hesitates as sadness spreads across her features. “She…she’d been physically abused by her uncle, and…she never got over it.” Her eyes pool with tears and then close briefly as if to blink away the pain. “She couldn’t handle it. She tried for so many years but it ate her up until she finally didn’t want to live anymore. I desperately wanted to save her but there was nothing I could do. She didn’t make it, Fran…but I’m so glad you did.” She smiles and clasps my hand, my heart expanding at her words, and I’m suddenly very grateful she’s here.

I draw her into a hug, wanting to comfort her as much as she’s now comforting me. “Thank you, Peyton, so much,” I tell her, and she’ll never know what her words mean to me. A few seconds go by and I finally release her and back away as a yawn escapes.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” she asks, flicking a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I’m good, really. Thanks, though. I’m just gonna get a good night’s sleep.”

“If you’re sure,” she says, checking me over one more time before heading to the door.

“Positive.” I yawn again as I hold it open for her, exhaustion getting the better of me.

“Oh,” she says quickly as the door closes, “we have plans tomorrow morning, be ready by eleven.”

I yank the door open and poke my head out just in time to see her wink before disappearing down the hall.

Plans, what plans ?

I step in the shower and turn the water to hot, letting the warmth cascade over my muscles, sore from an early morning workout. I’m more achy than usual, probably because I worked out harder than I normally do, visions of Fran’s flushed cheeks and hot little body pressed against the elevator wall spurring me on. Vivid images of those cherry red lips and what they might taste like, what they might feel like if they were sliding down my cock pushing me to exhaustion. I bet her skin is smooth and the thought of slipping my hand, or better yet, my tongue between her creamy thighs makes me so damn hard I can barely think straight.

There’s something about that feisty attitude of hers, too, coupled with the fact that she’s fucking gorgeous, that makes her irresistible. Work has consumed my life for so long and I’ll admit she sparks something in me. The flip side to that is I really don’t need the aggravation and Fran is very aggravating, exactly the reason why I’m seeing her today…so she can aggravate me a little more. I smile as I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist.

There’s a knock at the door and just by looking at the time I know it’s Caleb. When he says he’ll be here at 10:00 a.m., he’ll be here at 10:00 a.m. He’s got this thing about being prompt. With six kids, his mom had to keep everyone in line so she didn’t go insane.

“Morning!” he greets me as I open the door, giving me the eye when he sees I’m not ready. “We’re picking them up at eleven, you were supposed to be ready by now.”

I flip him the bird, then head to the closet to grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “Yeah, eleven. It’s ten, Mr. Rogers.” I shake my head in frustration. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this, I’m really not in the mood to socialize and I need to be preparing for the conference tomorrow.” What a crock of shit, who am I trying to convince ?

Caleb takes a seat on the sofa beside the wall of windows overlooking the city. “This is exactly what you need, man. You’re wound so tight, you’re gonna snap any minute.”

“Is that so?” I sneer, but realize he has the twenty-five year old privilege of knowing what’s best for me. I slide my t-shirt over my head. “So what happened with Peyton last night after I left?”

His lips curve into a mischievous smile. “Dude, I wanted to get with her so bad, but she made me wait, said she wanted to save something for later. The woman has the lips of a goddess though. When she left I was in a severe amount of pain.”