Chapter 7
SEVEN
At some point the loneliness becomes panic, and the panic makes me pass out. It’s only when my phone buzzes that I snap out of the semi lucid dream state I’ve become accustomed to since the attack.
I groan, trying to ignore it. It’s probably Charles. I don’t want to deal with him right now. Or ever. When it continues to buzz, I grab it, tempted to break it into tiny pieces.
“What?” I snap into the phone. A mumble on the other end of the phone takes me by surprise. “Ben?”
“I…” He laughs. “Fuck. I need you.” His words are slightly slurred. I’m not sure I heard him right, or that he has the right number. “I’m a fraction of a second from spending the night in jail. Can you come get me?”
For a moment I stay silent as I debate what I should do. He has more than enough money to order a car home. He has countless other friends he could call, but he called me.
This is the definition of a booty call. He called me to fuck me. I wanted this, right? But could I do it? Would it be easier if he was drunk?
“Prue. Please,” he groans.
“Where the hell are you?” I sigh. It’s worth a try. If this fails, I’m no worse off than I was before.
“I’ll text you the place. Then you come get me.”
“Fine. If only so you don’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“You care if I die? How pathetic.” He laughs.
My jaw drops open. Why is he such an asshole? I should leave him to fend for himself, but I need to try. It’s now or never.
The line goes dead and then a moment later I get a notification that he shared his location with me.
Ben Parker just shared his location with me. What the hell has my life become?
Climbing out of bed, I throw on a pair of sweatpants and tug one of Cameron’s oversized hoodies over my head.
Even though he is an asshole, I’m not going to let him get arrested or die. I tell myself it’s because I wouldn’t want someone to leave my brother drunk and stranded, but there is more to it.
A little part of me is happy that he called me.
When I pull up outside of the bar Ben’s location indicated, I find him sitting on the curb. His legs are sticking out into the street. His hands rest on the ground, causing his neck to hang back, even as his head slumps forward.
The neighborhood isn’t one of the best and I’m worried about both of our safety at this point. Does the guy have a death wish or something?
I park and get out of the car. He stares up at me when I walk up beside him.
“You really came?” he mumbles. He smells like liquor and cigarettes. “Jesus, you are more pathetic than me.”
“Really? I’m a bitch, rude, and now you’re adding pathetic to the list?”
He laughs. “You forgot fucking fantastic. At least when your mouth is doing something besides being bitchy.” His lips curve up into a stupid smile.
I’m tempted to get into my car and drive away, but his eyelids droop reminding me that he is extremely drunk. I should take everything he says with a grain of salt, only, he is saying the same stuff he has said since the moment I met him.
“Let’s get you home.” I reach my hand forward, ready to help him up.
“No. Not yet. Sit with me for a bit.” He pats the curb beside him.
“Ben, it is almost 3 in the morning. You’re drunk and I have class in the morning. Let’s get you home.”
“School is stupid. It doesn’t teach you shit.”
“I’m sure your mom would just love hearing you say that. Plus, a degree gets you a better job.”
“Great tits also help. You got those, so no need for a degree.”
I roll my eyes but take a seat beside him. He smiles over at me like he just won some kind of game. I glare back at him, but that only makes him smile more.
For a moment neither of us speaks. I stare at his side profile from the corner of my eyes. His hoodie covers up most of his tattoo, but a few peak out on his neck and hands.
He looks just as broken as I feel. Makes no sense to me. He has his dream career, is famous, and could have any girl he wanted. Including me.
“What made you call me? No other girl wanted to fuck the drunk idiot?” I ask after a few minutes.
“I came to this bar. Do I look like I wanted to fuck someone tonight?” He laughs. “I was celebrating.”
“Celebrating what exactly?” I ask, glancing back at the locked up-front door of a tiny dive bar that makes me question when I need to get my next tetanus shot.
“How pathetic I am.” He grins, bumping his shoulder against mine.
“But you had that figured out in one night. Pinned me down to a T.” He makes a little t with his fingers.
I try not to smile at the silliness of the drunk idiot beside me.
“All my friends are out growing me. I’m completely alone.
God, how fucking sad is that? I guess all the fame doesn’t mean shit. ”
“Make new friends.” I shrug.
“Is that what you’re doing?” He eyes me. “I heard those kids whisper in class the other day. They don’t seem to like you very much.”
“Accuse the popular guy of hurting you and watch the shitty people drop like flies.”
“Let’s key his car.”
“Let’s not.” I laugh.
“Set his house on fire?”
“Pretty sure you’d go up in flames if you got anywhere close to an open flame right now.”
“Two birds. One stone.”
“Ben, come on. Let’s get you home.”
“Fine.” He pushes himself to his feet, nearly falling over as I watch in horror. I’m hoping I don’t have to carry him home. He may be skinny, but he is still taller than me by a few inches and I’m not very strong. “Take me home.”
I help him get into the car. He instantly takes over my sound system putting on some music as I start the car.
“Where do you live?” I ask, pulling away from the curb.
“I’m not giving you that information.” He laughs. “I don’t trust you not to sell it on the internet.”
“Really?”
“As revenge for the scene in the classroom.”
“Okay? So where am I supposed to take you then?”
“Home. Your home.” He smirks.
“No. That is not happening. I’m staying with Cameron.
If I bring you there, he will never shut up about it.
” If Cameron even knew I had Ben in my car, he wouldn’t stop grilling me for details.
If he ever finds out about the classroom scene, he would lose it.
It’s not normal for me to hang out with any other rock star but him.
“Fine then,” he groans, pressing his hands into his eyes. “Take me to a hotel. Make it a Hilton.”
“Just tell me where you live. I promise not to sell it on the internet.”
“God,” he mutters, pulling his hands from his face and turning to look at me. “If you take me there, I will slit my wrists open.”
“Okay. Got it. So straight to a mental hospital it is.”
“Jesus. Can you just stop being a bitch for one second?”
“Call me a bitch one more time and I’ll slit your wrists for you,” I snap.
Here I am doing something nice for the guy, and he has the nerve to continue to insult me? I don’t know what kind of night he had, but nothing about his life could be worse than mine right now.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his lips curving up into a wide grin.
“Bitch.” His voice is full of amusement. I glance over to see him holding his wrists out toward me.
Pulling over, I unlock the car doors as I whip my head toward him. “Get out.”
“Make me. Bitch.” He smirks.
“Asshole.”
“I claim that with pride, baby. You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to hurt my feelings.”
“Pathetic.” I shoot back.
“I’ve already admitted that. Try again.”
I press my lips together, studying him. He is asking for it. He deserves it even. Since meeting him, he has done very little to earn my respect. Called me a bitch from night one, and hasn’t stopped, even after I gave him an amazing blow job.
Still, I shouldn’t sink to his level. He is clearly going through something. Having a bad night. And he did offer to kick Charles’ ass for me.
“Got nothing?” He raises an eyebrow, his lips almost dropping into a frown.
“You are a sad little boy,” I say. If he wants to be hurt, why should I deny him?
I have more than enough reasons to inflict some pain for a change.
“I’m so sorry your band is growing up and your mother loves you so much she moved here to be closer to you.
You have a wonderful life and you take it for granted.
It’s beyond pathetic. You just want to waste your life fucking girls and playing shitty guitar. ”
“Shitty guitar?” His eyes widen, full of disbelief. “You think I play shitty guitar? Have you not listened to any of our albums? You can insult every other part of my personality. Hell, tell me my cock is small compared to your piece of shit ex’s, but you cannot insult my guitar skills.”
“No? Why not? It’s not all that impressive.
” I shrug. It’s a lie. He is a very skilled guitar player.
Cameron’s goal is to be as good as him, and he is getting there.
Ben has a level of skill very few can obtain.
But if he is going to call me names, I’m going to push his buttons right back.
“I don’t even like Haunting Memories,” I lie again.
I’ve seen them live a few times, even when Cameron wasn’t on tour with them.
I own a few albums and shirts. You don’t have a brother in a band and not learn to like the bands he likes too.
“You are such a lying bitch.” He laughs.
“Takes one to know one.”
“Nice come back. Did you learn that on the playground?”
“Did you learn to play guitar from the bands on the radio?”
“Oh God. That’s the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Good.”
“Jesus. You win. I will never call you a bitch again.”
“Liar.”
“Takes one to know one.” He smirks back. “Just take me home.”
Sighing, I let him put his address into my phone and begin to drive toward his house.
He doesn’t speak the rest of the ride. Neither do I. I don’t really know what I should say. What happens when I get him back to his place? Is he expecting me to go in and have sex with him? Was it just desperation that had him calling me tonight?