Be Good (2 page)

“Okay,” I agreed as we exited the bathroom.

Brett hopped over to the phone and ordered us eggs, toast and coffee. Then he grabbed another tee shirt from his suitcase, this one with Green Day, and slipped it over his head.

“Another great band,” I
commented.

“How could you doubt my musical taste?” he teased.

I suddenly felt a twinge of sadness. I had slept with Brett, shared my body with him, yet I knew nothing about him. I thought about all of the guys I had been with and how little I really knew about them, how little I cared to know about them and how little they cared to know about me. My love life (if you could call it that) had been little more than a series of casual hook ups.

When I looked at Brett, he was staring at me. “What?” he
inquired when our eyes met.

“Nothing,” I
replied even though there was so much more going on inside my head. How could I possibly admit that I remembered nothing about our being together when it was becoming clear that it had meant something to Brett?

Brett pulled on a pair of jeans and I noticed how well he filled them out. He really did have a nice body. I would have loved to remember having sex with him.

“Lie down on the bed with me until the food gets here,” he suggested.

Brett grabbed my hand and led me over to the bed. He
lay down and I got into the bed next to him. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television. He flipped through some stations until he found an old movie playing,
The Breakfast Club
.

“I love this movie,” we both said at the same time.

We looked at each other and laughed.

“John Hu
ghes movies are the best,” Brett declared .

“My favorite is definitely
Pretty in Pink
.”

“And what about
Sixteen Candles
?”

I nodded.

“And
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
,” we both stated at the same time and laughed again.

“You can rest your head on my chest if you want,” Brett o
ffered. I wasn’t the type to cuddle (
Flaw 42
). The few clingy guys I had dated, mostly in high school, made me feel trapped by their constant need for me to be close. I guess Brett sensed my hesitation because he quickly said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I understand.”

I compromised. I placed my hand on his chest. I could see a small smile form in the corner
s of his mouth. Then he placed his hand over mine.

I don’t believe in coincidences and I rarely have good luck but I noticed that our food arrive
d exactly as the movie ended.

“Great timing
.” Brett flipped off the television and hurried over to the door. The ease with which he did everything and the comfort he seemed to feel in his own skin actually made me a bit jealous. I never felt completely comfortable with anyone and I felt the least comfortable with myself.

When the waiter left, Brett carried our food tray over to
the bed. “Breakfast in bed, for my lady,” he said with a cheesy fake British accent. He was a little corny but it was cute. And no one had ever gone to the trouble of providing me breakfast in bed.

Brett sat down across from me on the bed with the meal tray between us.
“Dig in. I’m starving!.”

“Aren’t you the least bit hung over?”
When I looked up at Brett all the color had drained from his face.

“I don’t drink,” he said seriously.
“Ever.”

I gulped. The way he said it was almost pained.
But why? Had he told me and I had forgotten? I racked my brain to try and remember but nothing came to me.

“I’m sorry,” I
mumbled.

“It’s okay,” he said but I knew he was lying. It wasn’t okay. Nothing about the night we had spent together was okay.

Then something strange happened. I could feel my cheeks getting wet. Moisture was dripping down my face and it was coming from my eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Brett
whispered and I wondered if I had heard him correctly.

“I don’t cry,” I
snuffled. “I never cry. It’s flaw number five.”

“Apparently you do
.” He came around to my side of the bed and took me in his arms. As he held me tightly I could feel myself sobbing. WTF? I felt like I was observing myself from outside my own body. I was probably eight years old the last time I remembered shedding a tear now I was quickly deteriorating into a sobbing heap.

“It’s okay,” Brett whispered. “I’m right here.”

Brett continued to hold me tight in his arms as I let it all out. Years of bottled up emotions seemed to pour out of me. I could feel snot running down my nose and before I could ask, Brett said, “I’d better get you some tissues.”

When he ran into the bathroom, I did my best to compose myself and when he returned he handed me a pile of tissues. I blew my nose into the entire pile and Brett chuckled.

“I must look really great. Not only am I hung over, now I’m a blubbering mess.”

“You’re beautiful,” Brett said seriously. The intensity of his gaze made me shudder.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

Brett looked confused.

“Being beautiful is meaningless. It’s not something I earned. I didn’t work for it. I just got lucky in the genetic lottery.”

Brett shook his head. “It’s not just about how you look, A
nna. Being beautiful is about who you are.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m not much more than a sarcastic bitch.”

“I wish you could see what I see.”   

I let out one laugh. “Maybe you need to have your eyes checked.”

“Maybe we’d better eat some of this food before it gets cold.” Brett grabbed a piece of toast and bit into it. “It’s already buttered.” He put the piece up to my lips. “Take a bite.”

I reluctantly did as I was told. He was right. The toast was good. I was surprised that I actually had an appetite. And even more surprised that Brett had so easily talked me into taking a bite of his food without
me giving a sarcastic remark like, “What am I five years old?”

“Would you like me to feed you your eggs, too?” Brett had a huge grin on his face. I guessed he had a little sarcasm in him, too.

“No, I think I can handle it.” I picked up my fork and jabbed at the scrambled eggs in front of me and put them in my mouth. “Mmm, these are good, too.”

Brett poked at his eggs and took a bite. He nodded in agre
ement.

After h
e swallowed, he asked, “So, why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You could have had your pick of eligible bachelors at the wedding last night, why did you hit on me?”

I shrugged. How could I tell him I didn’t remember? I poked at my eggs. They suddenly didn’t seem as appetizing.

“Anna,” Brett said. I glanced up him. He continued. “I just want you to know that I normally don’t do this.”

“Do what?” I
asked obviously clueless.

“
This
,” he emphasized as if it made all the sense in the world.

I tried to think of all the possible things he could mean by
this
. Eat in bed? Eat eggs and toast in bed? Get room service?

He sighed, clearly exasperated
. “A one-night stand.” He actually whispered it as if there was someone else in the room who could hear him.

“Never?”
I managed to choke out. I hoped he didn’t think I was being rude; I was just surprised. We had gone to college together. Most of the people we were friends with hooked up at least a few times. And there were people like me who hooked up way more than a few times (
Flaw 17
: Anna’s a slut.)

He shook his head.

“So you’ve had an actual relationship with all the girls you’ve been with?”

I could see he was thinking carefully about his next response. “Girl,” he
admitted finally.

“What,” I blurted.

His face turned serious. “I said girl. Singular.”

I could feel myself blinking and I couldn’t stop. I was trying very hard to process what I thought I just heard.
“Girl, as in one?”

“That is the definition of singular, yes. I guess you weren’t
an English major.”

I was struck speechless, which may have never happened b
efore. I always had at least one snappy comeback for everything.

“I dated
Becca for three years in college,” he explained. “She was number one.”

“There was no one before
Becca? No one in high school?” I knew I sounded like I was cross-examining him but I couldn’t help myself. Being 23-years old, a year out of college and only having been with one other person besides me was not something I could easily comprehend. Not when there were a few too many
weekends
when I’d been with more than one person. 

He nodded.

“And no one since we graduated? We’ve been out of college a whole year.” Going a year without sex was also something I couldn’t comprehend but it made sense now why I had seen multiple condoms in the bathroom garbage pail and he said he had been inside of me half the night. The man had obviously been sexually starved.

“
Becca and I tried to keep a long distance thing going after we graduated but it didn’t work out. Plus, I work a lot. I’ve been trying to build my career. I haven’t had time to date anyone since Becca.”

“So, that makes me number two?” I couldn’t believe the words were coming out of my mouth.
“But why?”

“Why what?”
His eyes narrowed.

“Why would you sleep with me when you’ve only been with one other person?”

Now he was the one poking at his eggs. “The first time I saw you was our freshman year, at the big Greek Row Homecoming Bash. You were wearing a bright pink short sleeved sweater and a black mini skirt.”

How the hell did he remember that? I can’t even remember what I wore last week and he can remember what I was weari
ng our freshman year of college?

He continued but he still wasn’t looking at me. He was still p
oking at his eggs. “I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. I watched the way you were so confident and sure of yourself with everyone, even the most popular guys.”

If only he knew how
insecure and unsure of myself I actually was and still am (
Flaw 26
). I guess I hide it pretty well.

When he finally looked up at me, his eyes were watery. “Ev
ery guy at that party had his eyes on you, including me, but I knew I’d never in a million years have a chance with you. I saw you around campus after that and at parties, every once and a while. Every time I saw you, you took my breath away. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you but you never noticed me. Not that I expected you to. I always knew you were way out of my league. Then last night, you actually looked at me. You talked to me. You flirted with me. I couldn’t believe you wanted to be with me. I knew it was the only chance I’d probably ever have to be with you, even if it was just for one night, so I took it.”

    My
withered heart swelled a little bit more.

I couldn’t believe he had thought so much of me
and that he had thought so much of us being together. And I didn’t even remember it. I had been with more guys than I could even count and I was his number two. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and I had an overwhelming urge to escape. I didn’t want him to find out that I didn’t remember talking to him, or flirting with him or even being with him. How shitty would that be after his big confession of longing to be with me? I generally didn’t care about anyone’s feelings, even my own, (although I’ve been accused more than a few times of not having any feelings at all
Flaw 6
). Why did I care so damn much about Brett’s feelings all of a sudden?

I stood up. “I’ve got to go.”

“Are you okay?” He had worry in his eyes.

I had to get out of there before he found out. I quickly scanned the room for my dress and shoes and purse. That’s when I noticed he had placed all of my things, which had been strewn about the room last night, on the table in the corner. I grabbed my stuff but he grabbed my arm before I could make it out the door.

“You can’t just leave like this.”

“Why not?”
I knew my tone was clipped. Being mean to get out of the room would be a lot more humane that him finding out the truth.

He blinked a few times as if he was searching for the right words.
“Because I don’t want you to.”

My
withered heart actually fluttered a bit. It felt strange—good but unfamiliar. It definitely wasn’t something I was used to. I didn’t normally do feelings or emotions, other than anger and rage.