by Andrea Wolfe
Beautiful Together
By Andrea Wolfe
Copyright © 2015 by Andrea Wolfe
All rights reserved.
Cover art by EroCovers
Edited by Veronica Hardy
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Contact
Special thanks to my beta readers, Kimberly and Mary Jo—your feedback was incredible and beyond useful. Sometimes you get so stuck inside your own book that you don't know where you are or what it means anymore. Without them, I never would have gotten unstuck!
Also, a huge thank you to my editor, Veronica Hardy, EroCovers for a beautiful cover as always, and to anyone who bought Haze, Be Here Now, or Two Weeks. You gave up some of your time to read something I wrote, and that's awesome. I can't thank you enough!
If you enjoy this book, please don't hesitate to leave a REVIEW. Not only does it mean a lot to me as an independent author, it also helps other readers figure out if this book is for them. Thank you!
-Andrea
Part 1
The Past
1
I felt dull and listless. No matter where I turned my head, something reminded me of him, memories that felt like ghosts. My vulnerable, tired brain kept insisting that we'd been there together, that we'd done things in those places. My head throbbed like a jackhammer, even after way too much aspirin.
Some memories were real, others were not. Still, they came.
I sat on my family's front porch for the first time in months, legs sprawled out down the steps, the sharp angles of the wood biting into my thighs and calves.
He was dead, and I couldn't make any sense of it. I couldn't make sense of anything. I wanted answers, and I wanted truth. I wanted Mason to be alive again—but tomorrow, we would bury him for good and I would know beyond a doubt that he was really gone.
I couldn't even cry anymore. My eyes felt so dry, so depleted, like I'd already exhausted my lifetime supply of tears.
I needed answers, not more agony.
I hadn't been there the night he died because I couldn't handle it. Eight months of extended misery was just too much for me. When Mason gave me an out, I took it because I couldn't go through the same gloomy routine anymore.
Now it was a decision I had to live with.
As I stared out into the endless horizon, that familiar red pickup truck came into view, casually grunting and sputtering as it came up our driveway. It was Jesse Evans, coming to bring me the final draft of the program for the funeral. I knew he was coming, yet his appearance still surprised me.
He climbed out of the cab and glanced at me, immediately dropping his head to the ground after making brief, negligible eye contact.
It was nearly the end of our senior year of high school, and graduation was just around the corner. Then came the rest of our lives. Mason would never have that opportunity.
"Hey," Jesse said weakly, dragging his feet as he approached me. It was basically the first word he'd spoken to me in almost two years.
Jesse was tall and handsome, an athlete and former best friend of both Mason and me. His muscles were taut and toned, and he always wore tight, clingy shirts that made them more pronounced. His hair was disheveled, like he had just woken from a nap.
"Hi, Jesse," I said, trying to make eye contact but failing due to his head being down. "How are you... holding up?"
Jesse and I were very close friends for years, initially out of obligation, but eventually due to remarkable chemistry. Our parents had been in the same social circles, and we went to the same church. By default, we were often placed together when we weren't old enough to have a choice. That didn't mean we hadn't grown legitimately close, however. And then, we were basically inseparable.
There were plenty of fond memories of growing up—swimming in the pond, playing in sandboxes, learning how to ride bikes together, buying candy from the gas station even though we weren't supposed to—but those warm memories couldn't keep us together once we got older.
Everything had crumbled after we began the awkward process of teen dating. I still didn't totally understand our downward spiral.
"I'm okay, I guess," he mumbled. "Here's the program, Naomi," he said tersely. "Can you look it over? Donna wanted you to see it before they started making copies."
Finally, he looked up. His green eyes were so reddened, worn like he had been crying the whole drive here. It made my own misery feel more real, and less oppressive. It was something unpleasant we shared.
I took the program and gave it a cursory glance. It was simple and minimal. Blocks of text and a schedule. Mason was the only word I recognized. The rest looked like Greek to me. Even if anything had been wrong, I wasn't feeling well enough to critique it.
I was to give a speech, second to last, right before the pastor's closing words. I had been trying to write it for days, always getting stuck after the first sentence, one that I had already rewritten more than a hundred times.
There were too many ideas spiraling in my brain, and I just couldn't make any sense of them. I felt far too young and inexperienced to write a speech about death.
"Looks fine," I murmured blankly, my eyes still lost in the folded sheets of paper.
"How are you feeling?" Jesse asked slowly, mechanically.
I could feel his eyes against me now, and I lifted my head to meet them. "I'm doing okay. I mean, I don't feel very good. He's... never coming back." I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. "I loved him." The words felt tacky, but I couldn't stop them from coming out.
"What do you know about that?" he hissed, eyes burning orbs now, the hostile flourish so sudden and jarring. "You weren't even there on the night he died. He was my best friend."
I felt adrenaline and misery rushing through my veins. His words felt like freshly-sharpened blades.
Why was he attacking me?
Other than the fact that he was grieving, I didn't have a clue. And since I was also grieving, I wasn't about to be rational either.
"I was there on Wednesday night, Jesse. The last night he was awake! I could only take so much. And you didn't even show up until t
he end, after he begged for you to come because he knew he was going to die." I pressed my back hard into the stairs, the discomfort feeding into my words. "Wasting away in that shitty hospital bed, day and night, wishing you were there. Some best friend you were."
He stared back, his eyes icy and cold. "Yeah, well, if you loved him so damn much, you would have actually been there when it mattered the most." He scoffed at his own remark and stared off into the distance. "You just don't get it, do you?"
"He was my boyfriend for two years, Jesse!" I shouted, feeling the ability to cry returning with a vengeance. "Of course I get it! He was my first everything!"
My words seemed to make him cringe. "You dated him for two years. Well, I knew him my whole life! You don't have a fucking clue how I feel."
"I have a pretty damn good idea," I hissed, almost under my breath. He looked like he was about to respond, but he stopped.
I felt totally sickened by his remarks. We both had reason to be upset, not to argue about who was hurting more. It didn't make any sense. It was totally irrational.
Still, it got to me.
Still, it reminded me that I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was somehow responsible for this tragedy.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood. "And you abandoned him, Jesse. Two years ago, you abandoned him!" I dug my fingers into the flesh of my thighs, clenching, squeezing. "You abandoned both of us!"
"Whatever," he said.
My heart felt like a bomb ready to explode. "After the funeral, I hope I never speak to you again. I don't care what excuse you're gonna give me, but—"
"Well, fine then," he said sharply, turning around. "That won't be hard."
"You have no right to talk to me like this!" I screamed at his back. "Why would you do this, Jesse? Why now?"
"I don't know," he shouted, annoyed. "Maybe I just wish things had turned out differently." He yanked open his truck door so hard he almost fell over and then jumped inside, slamming it so loudly it sounded like a gunshot. And then the engine roared to life and his truck disappeared down the street.
A gust of wind picked up right as he left, knocking the program out of my hands. It blew into the yard and disappeared. I watched, frozen and transfixed, until it was out of view.
Even though I was totally riled up, I still needed to finish the speech. I went inside to try.
And I knew I was finally ready.
2
Two years earlier...
It was Saturday night, and Jesse and I were watching a horror movie in my basement. A huge silver bowl of buttery popcorn sat between us.
"Halloween's only a couple of weeks away," Jesse said as opening credits rolled.
"So what?" I contested playfully. "You're not planning on going trick-or-treating or something, are you?"
He smiled. "Well, no. But it's still fun to get in the spirit."
My mom never would have let me rent some violent slasher film full of naked girls and bloodshed. So we had to sneak in our DVD contraband in a backpack and watch it after my parents had already retired for the night. It definitely wasn't the first time we had done it.
My parents were pretty religious and relatively strict about it, but it was mostly just talk. Sometimes it made me—actually, Jesse was in the same boat as well; we discussed the topic quite frequently—very confused about what I actually believed. The one thing I did know, however, is that violent horror movies were definitely not allowed in either of our houses.
I had turned sixteen only a few months earlier, so now I could finally drive to the video store by myself. Plus, one of our classmates worked there on the weekends, so we could rent R-rated movies even though we were underage.
The perks of finally being able to drive.
You could say I was seriously enjoying the fruits of my newfound autonomy. Not having to rely on parents for rides was a huge deal. Being able to go out shopping without parental supervision felt indescribably good, so good I felt like an actual adult sometimes, even though I never had much money to spend.
"These movies are so dumb, Naomi," he whined between giant handfuls of popcorn. "Nobody even acts like a real person."
"I think that's the point," I said sharply. Jesse liked to complain, but I also knew he actually enjoyed horror movies a lot. "Also, you're hogging all of the popcorn. I still want some too."
"Can't we just make more?" he asked.
"You want to risk waking my mom up while this is on the screen?" An incredibly busty girl had just had her throat slit and collapsed to her knees, fake blood spilling everywhere like a terrible crimson flood. Some of it even splashed on the camera. Ick.
"Good point," he said, his eyes clearly focused only on the boobs. "It's called Blood Lake for a reason, huh?"
"More like Boob Lake," I added playfully.
We were scrunched together on the small leather couch, fighting to grab handfuls of popcorn. My parents didn't really approve of me being alone with the opposite sex, so Jesse snuck in the back door after they went to bed. But they liked him, so even if we did get caught, the gory movie be the bigger problem.
"Wait a second," Jesse said suddenly. He jumped up and ran over to his backpack, squatting down and digging in the pockets. "A-ha!" he said, lifting a king-size package of M+M's into the air.
"Keep your voice down!" I giggled.
I studied him carefully. Jesse had always been handsome, but now his cheeks were covered in a thin layer of stubble. He was normally clean-shaven, but by nightfall, he usually had a five o'clock shadow. It was actually a little sexy, this conspicuous sign that he was basically a man. I often assumed he'd really win over the girls' hearts once the transmutation was finally complete.
His jaw was strong and chiseled, and he had grown almost a full foot taller in the last two years. He had messy light brown hair and bold hazel eyes. I had been around to see it all—just as he had been there to see my development.
My breasts had grown a lot more than I ever could have predicted given the fact that girls in my grade had constantly made fun of me in middle school gym class for being so flat-chested. I wasn't really sure if it was karma or not since sometimes I hated the size increase. Finding comfortable bras was usually a problem.
I would have fit in just fine with those girls on screen, but no one would have really known by how I dressed. My mom always insisted I keep my boobs thoroughly covered, so I did.
Jesse joked about them a lot, but it was all in fun. I also didn't like how blue my eyes were, or how dark brown my hair was, but I was more okay with that stuff than my chest.
But we were still maturing, living in an era when everything was kind of awkward. One way or another, we were just close friends, close friends who were trying to figure out what everything meant.
"Awesome!" I proclaimed, my eyes fixed on the giant candy package. "It's like we're really at the movies now. Except we didn't spend ten bucks for snacks!"
Jesse ran back to the couch and sat down. He tore aggressively at the package and suddenly it exploded, filling the popcorn bowl with candy shrapnel. "Dammit," he muttered. "My hands are slippery from the butter."
I eyed the mistake and smiled. "It'll be awesome blended in there. Don't you like salty and sweet?"
He sent his hand digging into the bowl, returning with a homogenous mixture of popcorn and M+M's. After dumping the contents into his mouth, he chewed slowly, deliberately, a quizzical look on his face. "Hell yeah I do!"
I joined in after that and we didn't stop until four more girls had been chopped to bits and the bowl was depressingly empty.
"I gotta go to the bathroom. Pause it, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Jesse said.
I crept up the stairs and quietly crossed the kitchen floor until I got to the bathroom. And when I was done, I rushed back to Jesse, excited to see the rest of the movie. We scooted close again on the couch.
On the screen, frozen, were two heads, locked in a dramatic kiss. "Just look at those two," I joked as I waited for Jesse to
start the movie again.
"Would you ever kiss me like that?" he asked suddenly, catching me off guard. He had a half-cocked smile on his face.
I stared down at my lap, a little confused, but also not offended. "Not like that," I said. I felt really comfortable around Jesse, and this, while a little weird, wasn't totally crazy. "But maybe just a little one," I added. "As friends."
"Yeah, it's no big deal," he said. "Let's try it."
I shrugged and turned toward him and closed my eyes. Our lips met briefly, but as I stopped, he put his hand on my shoulder and kissed me again.
I pulled away, surprised. "Jesse, what are you doing?"
He laughed, but it seemed unnatural. "Just messing around," he said.
"By trying to make out with me?" I wasn't upset, but I was a little shocked.
"I didn't know when to stop," he contested. His tone wasn't very convincing, but it was also pretty late. "I've never kissed anyone before."
I decided to let it go. "Whatever. I think it's time we get back to the movie," I said, pressing play on the remote. "It's getting late. And we've both got church in the morning."
The on-screen kiss continued—and quickly turned into sex. And then the couple wound up dead, just like everybody else.
I was beginning to wonder if anyone would survive this massacre.
"Are you going to the homecoming dance?" Jesse asked. There was a bit of a lull after the last murder, so we had both basically stopped paying attention.
Somehow, we hadn't discussed the dance and it was less than a week away. "Mason asked me to go with him last week," I said offhandedly. "So yeah, I'm going."
"Oh," Jesse said. The color seemed to leave his face. "He didn't tell me."
"He didn't? Wait, is something wrong, Jesse?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said. "It's... nothing. I'm just surprised, that's all."
"Jesse, I know you too well. What's up?" In our tightly packed position, I managed to shift my body until I could actually face him.