2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Beth

I spend the afternoon alternating between looking at my class work and trying to decide if using Catherine's exercise bike is a smart idea. Considering the contents of her kitchen and the fact that I only had fruit for lunch, I decide against using the bike. I don't want to make myself any hungrier before my sister gets home.

I'm already halfway to hangry.

Studying doesn't hold my attention once I sit down to give it a real try.

One cracked course book and it takes less than a paragraph of a chapter for my eyes to glaze over and my mind to begin to wander.

Letting out a sigh, I slap the book closed.

It's not like the course is particularly challenging.

Whatever I've missed, I'll catch up with later, when it's absolutely necessary.

A tempting thought enters my head as I get up and put my books on top of the dresser.

I could just not go back to class.

The thought makes me smile, even if I know it's pure fantasy.

I picked my degree based on how taxing it would be to complete.

There's only one problem with that plan.

Easy is boring .

I'm basically sleepwalking my way through my classes, so, of course, the thought of breaking away from the monotony is thrilling.

Then, reality kicks in, and I know I can't quit the course.

My parents worked hard to make sure me and my sisters could all go to college.

They'd be bitterly disappointed if I threw all the sacrifices they made back at them by quitting.

I know I surprised them when I agreed to apply to college.

It made them so proud once I told them what course I was going to apply to study.

Their initial shock melted into elation quickly enough that any doubts I'd had disappeared as if they'd never existed. My choice was made.

There's no turning back now.

I'm going to finish my degree and become a librarian.

No matter how boring it is, I can do it, and I will .

I'm not the flaky, class-skipping dumbass I was in high school.

I know I need to be responsible and get myself a good job out in the real world.

The average Beta needs to rely on herself, and I fully intend to be self-reliant.

Right at this moment though, I don't need to study so I'm not going to.

Instead, I plug my phone into the charger and put on an upbeat playlist while I look through my stuff to find my nail polish stash.

Keeping myself busy helps the day go a little faster.

I've been in my room for hours by the time I hear Catherine get home.

It's a little after six p.m. when I step out of my room to meet her in the hallway.

As promised, she has pizza, but it's just the one box and it looks kinda small for the both of us.

"Hey," she greets me.

"Please tell me you have more pizza in your purse?" I ask, my stomach starting to grumble wildly at the thought of eating something substantial. "I'll even take pocket slices if that's what you've got."

She laughs as she puts her purse down by the side of the door and holds the pizza box out to me.

"Oh, this is all yours," she says. "I can't have carbs. I bloat up like a whale."

I take the box, letting out a sigh as soon as I breathe in the deliciousness.

"Did you eat lunch?" she asks, probably presuming I didn't get out of bed until after noon.

"I ate," I tell her, "but you seriously need to go grocery shopping."

"Let me guess, you were disturbed by the lack of chips and Twinkies in the apartment?"

"If you knew, why did you ask?"

"We can get you some junk food tomorrow," she assures me. "You think you can last until then?"

"Maybe," I say, following her into the kitchen. "It all depends how good this pizza actually is."

"Well, the place is kind of new," she admits. "But my neighbor Jenny was raving about it."

"Hold up! You speak to your neighbors?"

She laughs. "We share a laundry room, so yeah, we talk."

"I kind of thought you moved to the big city so you wouldn't have to deal with stuff like that."

She starts taking things out of the fridge while I put the pizza on the table.

"I moved out here for work," she reminds me. "Finding out I have some decent neighbors was a nice surprise. There are no assholes in the building playing music too loud at all hours, or whatever."

I pull out a chair at the two-seater table, and I flip open the pizza box while Catherine starts making her own dinner. I have to admit, it looks good. My stomach rumbles loudly, and my sister looks over at me.

"Do you want a plate, or …"

I shake my head, and I pick up a slice.

Two seconds later, that slice has been reduced to a crust.

"Mmm," I murmur. "This is so good."

"I'll take your word for that."

I usually leave the crust, but this one has a nice salty, garlicy bite to it.

There's no way I'm leaving a single crumb behind.

By the time I get to my final slice, Catherine's just sitting down with a plateful of roasted vegetables and some hideous looking noodles.

"What are those?" I ask, thinking they look like they're made of plastic.

"Calorie free noodles," she admits, stealing an envious glance at my final slice.

"Carbs aren't a crime," I tell her, offering my last slice up because I can't stand to watch her eat this sorry nothing of a meal.

She shakes her head. "Try saying that when you get past thirty and your metabolism changes. I don't eat like this for fun."

"Is one slice of pizza going to kill you?" I ask.

She laughs. "No, but it'll make my pants tight and then I'll have to buy new clothes and I'll think it's okay to keep eating pizza, and then it becomes a whole vicious cycle."

I shrug, then I start devouring my final slice.

If I've got limited years of eating junk food like there's no tomorrow, then I should use them to enjoy my life as much as possible, before I have to consider eating plastic noodles and lightly seasoned vegetables for every meal.

I close the pizza box when I'm done, and I glance at the logo on the front.

Esposito Brothers' Taste of Italy.

The cartoon graphic is a cute picture of two guys – one spinning pizza dough, and the other with the finished product on a tray.

"I'm guessing you liked it?" Catherine asks.

"It was pretty damn good," I admit. "Your neighbor has decent taste."

"Well, the restaurant is just around the corner if you ever want more."

That's good to know. I thought I'd tried out most of the closest restaurants to college, but I guess if this one is new, I'll need to check it out in person when I have a chance.

I just won't be hitting on any of the waiters at this place.

I'm so beyond done with guys and dating.

"How are you feeling?" Catherine's gaze is on me when I look up.

There's a hint of worry in her dark eyes.

"Me? I just had pizza, so I'm feeling pretty good."

"You know what I mean, Beth. What happened to you … It was awful. You shouldn't have had to go through that."

"I'm fine," I insist, shrugging. "It's not like he actually hurt me."

"It's still …" She lets out a sigh. "If you ever want to talk about it, I'm always here. Okay?"

"Of course you're always here. You're a shut-in. You never leave the apartment."

She snorts and shakes her head at me. "God! I forgot you do this. Everything's funny to you."

I shrug. "I prefer not to take life too seriously. It gets in the way of having fun."

"Well, there's something in that, for sure. Just, don't repress what you're feeling, okay? It's not healthy. It'll just come out in other ways."

"I'm fine, honestly," I reassure her. "It's not like I nearly died or anything. I didn't even ruin my jeans."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Your jeans?"

"I had to pee, real bad, for like four hours or something."

"You were kidnapped, Beth. The guy drugged you and stuffed you into his closet, and that's all you were worried about?"

"They're really nice jeans. You know. You saw them yesterday."

She shakes her head. "I give up!"

"It's the plastic noodles," I tell her. "They'll make you suicidal for sure."

"You're exhausting, you know that, right?"

"You love me anyway."

"Well, I kind of have to. You're my sister."

She finishes her veggies and leaves the rest of the plastic looking noodles.

"Hey, thanks," I murmur, catching her attention with my quiet tone.

She gives me a questioning glance. "For what?"

I bite back the response I immediately want to give.

The pizza was amazing, sure, but she did something much bigger than that when she let me in to her apartment.

"For letting me stay here. After everything, I just … I didn't want to be alone in that dorm room."

She moves over to my seat and leans in to hug me from the side. "Anytime."

I know she means it, so I stop myself from saying something dumb to turn it into a joke.

I take the side hug, and I hug back awkwardly.

When she lets go my vision feels a little blurry.

I don't cry, but it feels like I'm close to an emotional outpouring.

Let's just hope I manage to save that messiness for a moment when I'm alone.

If I learned one thing from my last devastating experience, it's always better to keep the things that can hurt me to myself.

Exposing pain to someone else only ever makes it worse.