Page 46 of Suddenly Beck

I roll over with the pillow over my face intending to bury myself and my non-existent dignity as deeply into the mattress as I can where I may not come up for days… possibly ever, when I misjudge how close I am to the edge of the bed.

There’s a brief, terrifying moment of freefall, then a loud thump as I hit the floor. My face is thankfully protected by the pillow I’m clutching in shame, which prevents me from breaking my nose on the hard wood floor, but the air whooshes from my lungs, and my elbow clangs sharply against the edge of the bedside table making bright sparks explode behind my eyelids.

Ow… I wheeze into the pillow.

At that precise moment, my bladder, having been so rudely awakened by being slammed against the floor decides to inform me that I have two seconds to make it to the bathroom before I humiliate myself further. Therefore, with a groan of abject misery, I release the pillow and crawl to the bathroom with my dignity trailing mournfully along the floor behind me.

Once I’ve relieved myself, I turn the shower on and climb in, soaking my aching head under the warm trickle of water. What I wouldn’t give for a waterfall shower head and decent water pressure right now. That way I might be able to drown myself to avoid ever having to face Beck again.

I brace my hands against the generic white tiles and let the water slide down my back, and even the bright, smiley yellow ducks on the stupid shower curtain seem to be laughing at me.

Bloody Ryan and his bloody bad decision beer.

Tilting my head back, I scrub my face, wishing I could erase the film reel of images in my mind, which is at this moment cranking out a continuous loop of my greatest hits, and I swear somewhere my self-respect has got his feet up on an imaginary coffee table whilst shovelling popcorn in his mouth and avidly watching my most mortifying moments.

Shutting the water off, I climb out and dry myself off, wrapping the towel around my waist as I brush my teeth, trying to avoid my reflection as I literally don’t think I can even look at myself right now.

Deciding to just forgo shaving as my hands are shaking, I wander back into the bedroom and flip the kettle on to make myself a coffee and busy myself with dressing. I go with the grown-up boxers today, not that anyone’s going to be seeing me in them anytime soon as I’m heavily leaning toward joining a monastery. I mean, at least I have the whole celibacy thing down.

Once I have my jeans and t-shirt on, I chug the coffee plain and black and it doesn’t even come close to hitting the spot. I briefly wonder if I might get more of a hit if I just spoon the Nescafé granules straight into my mouth. I never thought I’d say it after yesterday morning, but I’d kill right now for a cup of Lucifer’s dark blend from Florrie’s coffee shop.

I vaguely recall where the coffee shop is, and deciding I need to break out the big guns to get through the day, I pull my socks and shoes on. Glancing out the window, I see the rain has let up and is now just a little overcast. Grabbing a hoodie, my key, and my wallet I head out.

Now, I may have been heading toward the coffee shop, but it seems that my subconscious has other ideas, none of which include allowing me to lick my wounds in private, because before I know it, I’m ambling along the bluff when a sweet, familiar little shabby sea cottage comes into view.

Jesus Christ, I’m a sucker for punishment. I may require counselling before this is all over. I stop dead in the middle of the trail, and to anyone looking, I must look like I’m twitching when in reality I’m having a fierce internal debate. It’s literally like my confidence and paranoia are armed with giant inflatable paddles and are about to go at each other in an epic fight to the death.

I could leave, it’s not like Beck knows I’m here. I don’t have to face him right now. I turn around sharply, determined to head back down the craggy incline but stop again with a loud annoyed sigh.

But you behaved really badly last night, and you need to apologise for it…my conscience decides to remind me. I hate my conscience right now, he really is an overbearing twat, but I’m forced to admit he does have a point. My stomach is just going to keep churning and heaving, making me feel nauseous until I go and face it head on. I just need to do it fast, like ripping off a plaster… unless it’s one of those stupid fabric ones that leaves behind a sticky layer of nastiness that even a blow torch wouldn’t remove.

‘Okay, fine,’ I hiss to no one in particular, turning back toward Beck’s cottage. I’ll just go and apologise… how bad can it be? I feel a sudden wet plop of moisture splat against my cheek, and as I look up, the heavens open with a heavy deluge, drenching me within seconds.

‘Okay, I get the message,’ I say sourly as I start marching purposefully toward the cottage. I reach the cute little white gate, but it won’t budge. Glancing down, I realise that it’s not locked, but the wood has swollen, leaving the gate firmly wedged closed. It’s not that high, only reaching up to mid-thigh, so I grasp the edges of the ornate rose archway surrounding it and climb over. I move to drop down the other side, but one of my shoelaces tangles on the latch and letting out an obscenely loud yelp, I tumble into the nearby Buddleia bush.

Ow…ow…ow, I roll off and hit the ground with a thud, pressing my face into the wet grass. That’s okay at least no one saw.

Then I hear the front door open, accompanied by a low amused voice, ‘Nat?’

‘It’s like the universe hates me,’ I mumble into the grass, breathing for a few seconds before pushing myself to my feet and brushing the damp grass from my face with as much dignity as I can manage.

I look up to see Beck leaning against the door frame, watching me with those beautiful hazel eyes, his lips curving at the edges. He’s wearing light grey sweatpants slung low on his hips and a plain white tee, his feet are bare, and his hair is loose. He looks so sexy and tempting, and my heart sinks. What would such a beautiful and confident man want with a mess like me?

‘Nat.’ Beck smiles slowly. ‘You’re getting soaked, come in.’

‘No, it’s okay,’ I say miserably, knowing the quicker I get this over with the better.

‘Nat?’ Beck’s smile fades. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ I shake my head, blowing out a breath as I search for the right words. ‘I just wanted to apologise… for last night.’ I press the heels of my palms into my eyes in mortification and feel the burst of light behind my eyelids.

‘Nat,’ Beck calls again, and his voice is a soft rumble beneath the clattering of the rain, and when I look up, he’s stepped away from the door and onto the porch.

‘No, just…’ I hold my hands up and take another step back further into the rain, needing to put some distance between us. ‘I’m sorry for last night, for trying to kiss you.’ I press the tips of my fingers to the bridge of my nose steepling my hands as I breath heavily and close my eyes. ‘Oh my god, this is so embarrassing,’ I mutter, ‘Where’s a stray bolt of lightning when you need one?’

As if on cue, the sky gives a shockingly loud rumble, and as we look up, a crack of electricity punctuates the heavy clouds. Beck’s eyes widen as he reaches out and grabs me, pulling me under the safety of the porch. I stumble into him, caught off balance as I stand breathing heavily, feeling his hard body pressed to me.

I pull back slightly, refusing to meet his eyes. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry. You set boundaries, friends only, and I shouldn’t have overstepped.’