this is not a sad story

chapter 3

Beckett and I hung out pretty religiously after that. I hadn't ever been involved with a guy like that before, other than Ted who I fucked for alcohol. But Ted was just a body, but Beckett and I hadn't fucked yet. In fact, there wasn't even a hint of attraction that he displayed towards me. We just talked about stupid stuff at first. Then I came over on a Thursday night.

I parked my car in front of his place like I usually do. His house is so big that he told me to just walk in and go to his room, so that's what I did.

Before that day, his parents were like ghosts. There wasn't really a trace of life in his house. No baby pictures or family portraits. Just these minimalistic accents that created the illusion of life.

Beckett's room was cool, though. He had his guitar hanging out proud on his wall where the drums were. He had a bunch of big polaroids from his old life in California. Once when he was in the shower I looked at them all. They all captured different parts of him, like a day on the beach with his surfboard. Or it was a picture of a blonde haired girl on his shirtless back, both of them giving big, cheesy grins to the photographer. Or it was just a simple cup of coffee on a table. There weren't any dates other than the year. I liked them.

Anyways, that day I walked in and heard something. It sounded animalistic, these pants and grunts. I didn't know if Beckett had a dog or something, so I followed the sound. His house was bigger than the typical houses of Woodland Hills, so it took some effort for me to try to locate it. Eventually, I made my way to the kitchen and realized what those noises were. For someone who has sex a lot, clearly I was still an infant when it came to comprehending the sounds that came with it.

A lady that looked a lot like Beckett was bent over the kitchen table with Travis's pants down and his dick railing her insides.

"Oh, my god!" I gasped when I realized exactly what was happening.

Okay, maybe that part didn't happen. I didn't say that, but I sure as hell was thinking it. I backed away and prayed to God that nobody heard me. But, I'm an unfortunate bastard, so as soon as I left the room the moans stopped. Hushed tones filled the unsettling silence and subsequently was the sound of clothes desperately going back on.

Needless to say, I booked it. I went straight to Beckett's room praying to God that they weren't following me. Beckett was sitting in his hanging chair reading a book when my frazzled self entered.

"Hey, Maya," Beckett said, looking up.

Swallowing, I lifted my palm in greeting. "What's up?" I asked.

He shrugged, folding the ear of his book and tossing it on the floor. "Did you get lost?" he joked.

I shook my head. "No, but I, uh, ran into your mom."

He looked at me. "She's here? I thought she had a dinner."

Mrs. Klein couldn't have chosen better time to knock on the door. The door was already kind of open, so she just kind of hung over the frame, giving me a warm smile. She looked so poised and put together, I second guessed myself regarding what I had seen less than five minutes ago. She looked a lot like Beckett, but with sharper features and hazel eyes.

"I didn't know you were home, sweetheart," Mrs. Klein said to Beckett. She looked at me with a tight smile. "And you have a friend over."

Beckett stood up. "Yeah, this is Maya. She's in my english class."

For some reason, Mrs. Klein's eyes narrowed the slightest bit when she heard my name. But it was so faint, it could've just been mistaken for a twitch. Something in my gut told me, though, that I wasn't imagining it.