16. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Viktor

Pulling up to Beckett's apartment feels weird when I'm driving the McLaren instead of the Pacifica. But the last thing I want is for anyone to find out about my stalkermobile, least of all Becks.

That man would be so angry, he might make me get rid of it.

After parking and turning off the engine, I lift my wrist to my nose, inhaling the scent coming from his heather gray sweatshirt. Hope he doesn't make me give it back. This thing is comfortable, which is why I didn't bother changing into my own clothes.

When practice ended, I returned to my dorm to get some homework done, and to interrogate Jackson for information since Zach never returned to practice. But my friend kept quiet. He wouldn't even tell me what he talked to Becks about.

Midway through my assignments, Becks texted, asking if I wanted to come over. Like I wasn't going to show up anyway. So, I prepped and took another shower before heading out.

I reach over to the passenger seat and grab my backpack. My heart beats faster, pulse thumping in my temples as I open the small front pocket and doublecheck the contents—two syringes and some Rohypnol.

Never been worried about tagging someone before, but if it doesn't go correctly, and Beckett figures out what I'm doing, I'll lose him for sure.

Once I rezip the pocket, I get out of the car and make my way to his building, then up to the second floor, texting him as I climb the stairs.

Of course, he's waiting in the doorway. "Like my clothes that much? Figured they were too cheap for you."

"You mean my clothes, and I own things that aren't all labels."

"Like what?"

I drop my backpack by the entrance, then kick off my shoes and hold out a foot. "My socks. They're some obscure brand."

He just shakes his head and closes the door. I turn and head for the couch when the white ball of fur comes by and I scoop the cat into my arms. It yowls and hisses, but I still pet its head. "Is Mouse a boy or girl?"

"Girl."

Sitting, I continue to hold her, and as much as she vocally complains, she's not fighting me. "Both of your eyes are the same and she's grumpy as fuck, she's a mini version of you."

Beckett sits next to me shaking his head as pulls the cat from me, placing her beside him. He grabs the back of my head and pulls me in, his mouth claiming mine. "You look good in my clothes."

"Well, good thing because I'm keeping my boyfriend's sweatshirt."

His body tenses and he pulls away, his face becoming serious. "Viktor, I . . . uh, this thing between us . . . it's not like that. I'm not ready for that level of commitment."

My throat tightens and I fidget with the sleeve of the sweatshirt.

He places a hand on my thigh. "Chaos, I'm sorry. I . . . Look, we're attracted to each other. And as much as I try to resist you, I can't. But a serious relationship is out of the question."

The phone on the table vibrates and a muscle near his jaw ticks when he glances quickly at it. Before he can stop me, I grab it, then hit the green button, so pissed, I don't even register the name on the screen. "Who the fuck is this?"

A male voice answers but Beckett rips the phone from my hand and hangs it up. "You crossed the line with that stunt."

"Was that Noah?"

"No, it was my brother." He releases a deep sigh, his tone clipped. "Novotny, stay out of my business with Noah."

Novotny.

Back to that now.

My eyes narrow to slits, my hands clenching into fists. "Oh, so you have a right to go after one of my friends, but I mention your what—your ex-boyfriend or is he still your boyfriend—and I'm in the wrong?"

I spring to my feet so fast it sends Mouse scurrying away. "Am I just some fucking placeholder until he moves here with you?"

"No." Beckett's voice is quiet, like a defeated whisper, as he stares at the ground. "He's dangerous. You had to notice part of Mouse's left ear missing. Noah cut it off with a pair of fucking safety scissors because he got jealous. Of my cat. He fucked around with my job, nearly got me fired. He stalked me." He looks up and glares at me for a moment before continuing. "I had to get a restraining order on him."

I sit back down next to him, then wrap my arms around his waist, laying my head against his shoulder. "Why didn't you just tell me that night in the alleyway?"

His body deflates and he hugs me back. "I don't want him making you a target too."

My body shakes as I laugh. "You have no idea what my friends and I are capable of. The last thing you need to do is worry about me."

"I've been warned about all of you, but specifics were never mentioned." He hugs me tighter, his cheek resting against the side of my head. "I understand if keeping things casual isn't what you want. But it's what I need. Getting serious, right now, with you . . . It's just too much."

Too much.

My body tenses, pulse rate spiking, and it feels as if someone's squeezing the shit out of my temples.

Isn't that always my issue? And though I try to calm down, knowing in my gut he didn't mean it that way, it resounds within my head until it pounds so fiercely I'm seeing those small flashing spots.

"I should just go home."

He tenses, pulling back to look at me. "Viktor, I didn't mean—"

"Don't." I shove him away and stand, heading straight for the door, grabbing my bag and sneakers before walking out and slamming it behind me. I practically speedwalk barefoot to my car, then drive away.

Fuck Beckett Harper for giving me hope that maybe someone could finally accept me for who I am.