HIM .. Joe Goldberg

PEACH

SHE LOOKS LIKE FUN. You looked mysterious, brooding, wise and twice as melancholy. She's exotic, fun, the embodiment of a twenty-two year old's fickle nature. Whereas you're perpetually a depressed fifty five year old, she is what she's actually supposed to be. Carefree, unaffected by the world around her. An absolute blast!

It's not long until we have our first kiss; two sloppy drunks making an ass of themselves at the bar. Getting dirty looks for being ourselves. You would probably be one of those judgmental fuckers, glaring because you know you could never have as much fun.

Beck spills a shot of Tully down my collarbone and licks her tongue up from the middle of my chest, making sure not to mess a single drip of the whiskey.

This is how it was always meant to be. Two blondes fucking it up! There was always a certain imbalance between me and Hannah, though I was never able to pinpoint exactly what is was. Now, I knew. Blondes were meant to stick together and have fun.

"Beck,"

A friend who I since learned was named Peach, moans Beck's name. "C'mon. I'm tired. Come on, you don't know the area, and I want to go home."

What?

Beck made a pout, but Peach hugs her by the waist and shoves her face against the crook of Beck's neck. And just like that, she's not mine anymore. She's Peach's.

What?

A long sigh pulls from the blonde's lips, and I wait anxiously. She isn't about to really leave, right? Not when we're in the middle of having so much fun.

"I guess it is that time of night," Beck mutters against Peach's sleek black hair, holding her cheek with her palm. She finally pays me a piece of mind, like for a moment she forgot I was even there. Her smile curls. "See you around, Brit. We should meet up at Vintage again soon."

They gathered their things, and following another girl, begin walking out of the bar together.

I have to do something! I couldn't lose this chance again, not after having such a powerful connection. It's so hard to find decent people in the world, Joe. You taught me that. Now that I met a good girl, I can't let her slip away. No, I refuse.

I jog after them, shoving away whoever was necessary to get a clean view of the girls. They're halfway across the threshold, Beck presses herself against Peach in a way that makes a fire of jealousy inside the pit of my stomach. She should be holding me like that.

I call out, "Hey! If you wanted to stay, I can help you get home later." My words come out so fast they're jumbled together, but thinking on your feet is a hard thing to do after drinking the entire evening. I lick my lips, push my blonde hair behind my ear. Insecure.

Peach cocks her head and glares at me. I want to sneer back at her, but I can't risk ruining things with Beck. Not yet, at least. "I thought you were new." She deadpan.

"I am," I say slowly. "But even though it's hard, it isn't entirely impossible to get an Uber in New York City."

I saw the light remerge in Beck's eyes, and she grins at Peach with a type of desperation I find to be a bit disconcerting. Like a little kid begging their mom for an extra dessert. "Aw! I think I wanna stay, if that's okay with you!" I know that look, I know that power imbalance--I've been on both sides of it. Immediately, I'm curious towards Beck and Peach's relationship--even as close as Hannah and I were, I never had to ask her for permission. I had to ask Charlie.

Who is Peach to Beck?

Peach barks, "I don't trust her."

You shouldn't, bitch. I smile. "I promise I'm sane."