For Curt

[pitchslapped]

She couldn't stand Jesse there but, as it turned out, she couldn't stand him gone, either. She'd paced around the apartment for a couple of hours and, just when she felt like she was about to go out of her mind, she decided to go out. Maybe she could drink enough to pass out and then, in the morning, she'd feel okay. Maybe.

She finds herself in a bar - she didn't even stop to see which one - and she's drunk enough that the world is swimming, slightly.
The thought of going home? Still makes her feel like she's about to start screaming.

"Can I get another one of these?"

Comments

[feel_myhell]

"It's on me," Curt said, sliding up to the bar next to her and set a bill on the counter.

"I'll take a bourbon. Double." He perched himself on the stool at her side, and then cut her a look.

"Bad night?"

[pitchslapped]

"Bad couple of weeks, Mr Rockstar," says Beca, shaking her head a little so that her hair falls forward to cover some of the bruises on the side of her face and her neck. "Thanks. For the drink."

[feel_myhell]

"Sure," Curt said, his eyes flickering over her face. She looked like hell, but it wasn't like he'd never seen a girl trying to hide a bunch of bruises before.

"You gonna talk about what's going on, or are you just looking to get fucked up?"

[pitchslapped]

"What if I'm looking to get fucked?" asks Beca and then her head spins because wow, what the hell was that? She sighs and knocks back the rest of her shot.

[feel_myhell]

Snorting out a laugh, Curt said, "You're not going to have a hard time with that, either. Not in this place."

Or anywhere. She wasn't what Curt might've preferred, but she was beautiful and he liked her, and if that's what she really wanted, even he probably wouldn't have said no.

[pitchslapped]

Which is when Beca makes the conscious decision to stop thinking. She needs to feel something, something that's not bone deep terror and sorrow. She needs to focus on something that's not the thought of all of that blood.

"What about right here?" She asks, leaning in a little closer, tits brushing against her arm. "I bet you could make me feel really freaking good, Curt."

[feel_myhell]

"I'm not gonna argue with that," he said, giving her a look, "But you're not really my type. No offense."

Still, he reached out to touch her cheek, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes.

"What about your man?" He'd never met the guy, but he knew there was somebody, and he'd learned that the rules of relationships weren't what he remembered them to be. The last thing he wanted was some jealous boyfriend knocking down his goddamn door.

[pitchslapped]

Beca does take offense, sudden and hot and ridiculous, but it doesn't mean that she pulls away when he touches her face, brushing her hair back.

"I don't want to talk about him," she says, shaking her head. "Sure I can't talk you into it? Don't tell me you've never noticed me, Mr Rockstar."

[feel_myhell]

"I have noticed you, New Girl. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm pretty exclusive in fucking men," Curt pointed out, still giving her a look.

"I do make exceptions, but I also make a lot of bad fucking decisions."

[pitchslapped]

"Well, mostly, I'm watching you record, not fuck, so excuse me if I'd missed out on the finer details." She rolls her eyes. "I could use some bad decisions right about now."

[feel_myhell]

A year ago, just months ago, he probably would've taken her up on it, without a second thought. But for some reason, he couldn't get Kurt's voice out of his goddamn head. He couldn't forget that disappointed look on the kid's face.

"Yeah, well. Maybe I don't want to be yours," Curt said, taking a sip of his drink. Taking out his wallet, he put enough money on the bar for himself and to cover her. "Go home, Beca."