The Last Blues We're Ever Gonna Have

Chapter 8

"Well," Luxe grumbled through the wad of bloody tissues. "It's not broken."
"You're sure?" Wendy asked, staring at the tissues with uncertainty in her voice. "That's a lot of blood, Luxe. His fist caught you pretty hard."
"Trust me, I'm sure. It would hurt a lot fucking worse if it was broken." Luxe shuddered at the memory of her last broken nose. No, she would never forget how that felt.
"I've never seen someone's nose bleed like that before," Beck said, a stale attempt at a chuckle falling from his mouth. Luxe shifted her gaze to where he stood at the door to her dressing room.
"What can I say, my blood vessels have always been divas," she grunted sarcastically. His blue eyes bore into hers and she wondered if he was gearing up to rip into her for being careless during her fight choreography. Despite his light words, his mouth was drawn in a thin line, body stiff and arms crossed over his broad chest as he leaned against the door frame. She could feel his anger radiating off of him. At least this had happened during a rehearsal, instead of during a taping. And it really wasn't her fault this time.
She'd worked with Bruce before, he was a great stunt choreographer when it came to fight scenes, he was incredibly patient and liked to explain how each step and movement would come into play with how the end product would look. Luxe was comfortable and confident in each of his suggestions. But something had been off after their first break. Bruce had been wired-nearly manic-racing through his explanations and his movements, and Luxe had struggled with keeping up, missing several cues for her movements. Bruce had grown inpatient, something he'd not ever done before, and insisted Luxe practice the fight with him. He'd moved faster than she had anticipated, and in the process, he'd given her a solid left hook to her nose, instead of her right forearm as a block. Luxe's vision had gone white the minute his fist had connected with her face and she'd hit her knees in shock, ears ringing. When she'd finally unscrambled her senses, she'd found herself being hauled to her feet by a frantic Wendy and lead back to the dressing room. Behind her, she'd heard Vaugh and Jem shouting, though she hadn't been able to make out any words. As soon as they were in the dressing room, Wendy had shoved handful after handful of tissues into Luxe's shaking hands, telling her to pinch her nose. She'd obeyed, robotically.
"Where's Gigi?" Wendy asked, looking around the small dressing room, interrupting Luxe's thoughts. Luxe glanced around as well.
"I...I don't know," she mumbled. That was odd, Gigi should have been hovering around, clucking like a nervous hen.
"She probably went to go get more tissues," Beck suggested. "You've gone through the whole box." Luxe looked over to the tissue box in question. It was indeed empty. Ugh. Great.
"I'll go help her," Wendy sighed. "You've almost bled through these. You were right, Luxe. Your blood vessels do like to show off." Luxe shook her head in embarrassment, ponytail swinging. Her nose always seemed to bleed like a severed artery any time she was hit. Wendy walked out quickly, side stepping Beck's considerable frame. Luxe groaned, shoulders slumping. This was so embarrassing.
"You okay?" Beck asked, calling her attention to him. She nodded, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "Don't look up, moron! Unless you wanna make yourself sick." She turned her head to him, trying her best to glare at him over the edges of the tissues. He sighed, heaving himself off the door frame and walking over to her. Luxe found herself staring at the pieces of hair that escaped his ponytail, swinging in his face, several strands catching on his unshaven face. It made him look wild, more intimidating than usual. She swallowed, wincing at the coppery taste of blood at the back of her throat.
"You gonna lecture me on how I need to be more careful?" She asked him when he bent to bring his face level with hers. His eyes locked onto hers and she felt her breath catch in her chest. Slowly, he brought his right hand up, fingers curling around her wrist and pulling her hand-and the mountain of tissues-from her face. His eyes released her's as he shifted his gaze to her nose. She heard him hiss through his teeth as he assessed the damage.
"Jesus, Luxe," he mumbled. "You're sure it's not broken?"
"I'm sure," she murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from his face. He glanced back up at her eyes.
"This wasn't your fault, Luxe," he said evenly and she blinked in surprise.
"I...I know that," she told him softly.
"Then why were you saying 'I'm sorry' after he hit you?" Luxe blinked again.
"I did?" He nodded.
"Right after you hit the ground. You kept saying it." Luxe bit the inside of her cheek, unsure of what to say and suddenly torn between wanting to lash out and tell Beck to mind his own goddamn business or walk away from him.
"It's...just a reflex," she muttered, settling for narrowing her eyes in annoyance. His gaze hardened.
"Get a different reflex."
"That's not how it works," she scoffed.
"No, that's exactly how it works," he shot back, his eyebrows drawing together. "No one says 'sorry' when they get punched in the face, Luxe. That's not a natural reflex. That's brainwashing." Luxe felt her cheeks flame in anger and shame. How dare he!
"You don't know what you're talking about, Asshole!" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She bit down on her tongue, turning her face from Beck's. She could feel her hands beginning to shake so she clenched them into fists. Her eyes prickled, threatening her with tears. No! No crying! she ordered herself. She refused to embarrass herself further. Her traitorous eyes ignored her, and Luxe felt the first tear fall from her lashes to her cheek. "I need to use the bathroom," she grumbled, desperate to get away. Beck grabbed her shoulders, turning her back to face him. His sharp gaze softened and Luxe wanted to slap that look off his face. She grit her teeth, glaring at him as another tear slipped from her eye to roll down her face.
"Luxe, I'm not trying to make you feel shitty about it," he told her, his voice soft. "But...Just...you never apologize to someone who hurts you. That's the same as giving them permission to do it again." Luxe stared at him, his tight gaze, his drawn mouth. It was similar to the look Gigi sometimes have her.
"I don't need you to pity me," she growled. Beck sighed, rolling his eyes.
"I don't feel fucking sorry for you, Luxe," he told her. "I'm fucking angry."
"You just said it wasn't my fault!"
"I know it's not your fault! I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at Bruce! Why the fuck do you think I'm in here with you?"
"To lecture me about how I respond to being hit?" Luxe replied flippantly.
"I'm in here because if I'd stayed out there I would have beat the shit out of him." Luxe stared at him, unsure of how to respond to that. She suddenly realized that he was shaking.
"I'm...I'm okay, Beck," she whispered, reaching her trembling hand out to flick his hair out of his face. She watched in surprise as his cheeks reddened. "I've taken harder hits than that-oof!" She grunted as Beck's arms suddenly pulled her into a crushing hug.
"You suck so bad at reassuring people, you dumbass," he growled and Luxe could feel his voice rumble through her.
"So do you, jackass," she whispered, but there was no heat in her words. A feeling crept into her chest, warming her and nearly convincing her to move her arms around Beck in something suspiciously like a hug, but she refrained, instead she allowed herself to grasp a handful of his shirt in her hands. She felt a tickle at her lip and knew that her nose was still bleeding. She should let go of his shirt and press the tissues back to her face. But Beck's arms around her, the warmth of his body, the simple comfort that he was trying to give her...she didn't want to move. She hoped she wasn't getting blood on his shirt.
"Am I interrupting something?" Beck and Luxe stepped back from each other, immediately, turning to face Jem as he stood in the doorway. Luxe felt a nudge of discomfort, something sort of like guilt, as she realized what it must look like-being embraced by Beck. That's ridiculous. Jem and I...He doesn't feel that way...neither do I... As soon as Jem's eyes landed on her face, he let out a low whistle. "Jesus, is your nose broken?" Luxe rolled her eyes.
"For fucks sake, no," she groaned. "I will bleed on the next person that asks me that."
"That's unsanitary," Beck chuckled. She looked back at him, pursing her lips and glaring petulantly.
"Bruce is going home for the day. He wanted you to know that he's sorry, Luxe," Jem continued, hunching his shoulders and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Luxe couldn't help but think it was a nervous gesture, he never slouched like that.
"He's fucking sorry? That's all he has to say?" Beck growled. Jem moved his gaze to his best friend, shrugging again.
"He said he doesn't feel well. He's never been like this any of the other times we've worked with him," Jem elaborated. "Vaughn wants to know if you want to go home for the rest of the day, Luxe."
"No, I'm fine," Luxe insisted.
"Says the girl who's bleeding onto her shirt," Beck added. Luxe looked down at herself. There was indeed an impressive stain on her blue t-shirt.
"Goddamnit," she grumbled.
"I have an extra shirt in my dressing room," Jem told her and she felt her heart skip a beat. "You're sure you're okay?" Luxe looked back up at him. She nodded slowly.
"Okay! I finally found another box of tiss-oh, sorry, Jem," Wendy called as she bounded back to the dressing room, nearly colliding with Jem. She peered around him at Luxe. "Damn, Luxe. Are you sure-"
"Don't say it," Jem interrupted. "She's already threatened to bleed on the next person who asks if it's broken." Wendy blanched.
"Luxe, that's terribly unsanitary," she admonished. Luxe snorted, a genuine smile finally pulling the corners of her mouth.
"You said you found more tissues?" Wendy nodded, tossing the box at her. Luxe caught it, tearing it open and pulling out a fistful. "Thank you," she mumbled. She pressed the tissues to her nose, hoping the bleeding would stop soon.

***
A growl slipped between clenched teeth. How dare he touch her, put his arms around her. She didn't belong to him! He wasn't worthy of touching her. "She's mine. She's mine!" voice nothing more than a hissing whisper in the dimly lit hallway. Even Luxe knew he wasn't worthy of touching her, she was trembling in his arms. But when she'd grasped at his shirt, latching on to him like he was some sort of anchor...white hot anger threatened to boil over. No...something needed to be done. Luxe needed to be reminded of who she truly belonged to. And then she wouldn't need to find comfort in anyone else's arms....