Beautifully Broken (Addicted To You, Book Two)
Author:Covington, Lucy

She pulled a slice from the box that was on her desk, then set it down on a paper plate and brought it over to me. “Thanks.”

 

“It just came, so it should still be hot.”

 

I took a bite. The salty, greasy dough immediately made me feel better.

 

“I got a large, so if you want some more, there’s plenty.”

 

“Thank you,” I said again. She was being so nice to me, and I didn’t even deserve it.

 

“No prob.” She smiled, then grabbed her own plate and jumped up onto her bed.

 

“You want to talk about it?”

 

Did I? I wasn’t sure. On one hand, I wasn’t the type of girl who talked about her problems. Mostly because up until now, I hadn’t had any problems. But still. Rachel was there, and she wanted to listen. And honestly, she might be crazy, but she was obviously smart – she might have something to offer.

 

“It’s this boy,” I started.

 

“Oooh.” She nodded and slid across her comforter until her back was against the wall, like she was settling in for a long conversation. “The one who left you that note?”

 

“Yes.” I gave her a rundown about meeting Justin at the hospital, how he showed up here that night, how I got in trouble with the RA, Dennis.

 

“Dennis is an asshole,” she said.

 

“Maybe.” I was finished with the cheesy part of the pizza, and I started in on the crust. “But he was just doing his job.”

 

“He could have given you a pass. It was your first day.” She handed the pizza box over to me, like she knew I needed another slice.

 

“Thanks,” I said gratefully as I served myself another piece.

 

“So does this mean you’re not a bad ass after all?” She grinned.

 

“Yeah, well, first impressions aren’t always what they seem.”

 

She smiled. “Don’t I know it.” She sighed. “Look, if you want my advice, I think you should forget about him. He’s obviously not good for you. I mean, you’ve only known him for a few days, and you’re already getting all worked up.”

 

I knew she was right. I just didn’t know if it was going to be that easy.

 

 

 

 

 

JUSTIN

 

 

Delvin didn’t bother trying to pick me up for work the next morning. I think he knew better than to even attempt to wake me up after we’d spent the better part of the last twelve hours in a state of complete and total intoxication.

 

By the time I got up, it was already almost eleven, and my roommate was long gone for work at Home Depot. I had the apartment to myself, so I spent the next half hour showering, making myself coffee, and trying to remember my own name.

 

I had a sour feeling in my stomach and I wasn’t in the mood to do anything, but I didn’t let that stop me. The fact was, I might be able to blow off landscaping, but there was no way I was going to blow off my MMA training.

 

That’s why even though I was hung over, I got to the gym before anyone else. In fact, I was there so early that the door was locked. I didn’t have a key to get inside, so I stood there with my coffee and waited for Coach Jansen to arrive.

 

Because it was a small gym and this was a weekday morning, there was no telling exactly when someone would come by to open it up. There was usually someone there by eleven, but sometimes the doors could remain closed until noon or even one o’clock. I decided to wait around another twenty or thirty minutes, and if nobody came around to open up, then I would go for a long run and check in later.

 

I was just finishing my coffee and about to leave when someone finally rounded the corner. It was Uriah, wearing a gray sweatshirt and warm-up pants. He was listening to his iPod and nodding his head, and when he saw me, he got a huge smile on his face.

 

Pulling the headphones down so that they hung on his neck, Uriah’s grin continued to widen. “Look who’s here,” he laughed.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

Uriah kept grinning. “Nothing, bro. I’m just a happy guy. Is there something wrong with that?”

 

“Not at all. I just don’t think you’re as happy as you pretend to be.”

 

“That’s your opinion.” He shrugged. “I don’t worry much about what haters think of me.”

 

“You have to be someone people give a shit about before you can have haters.”

 

Uriah nodded. “True. But I guess you give a shit about me, JB. Because you’re always acting pissed off that I’m in the same gym as you. Insecurity is a sign of weakness, you know.”

 

“Believe me, you’re the last thing on my list of things to worry about.” I chuckled. “You’re just another big talker, and in a year or two you’ll leave and go somewhere else where you can start over and try and fool a new crop of people into thinking you’re the next Anderson Silva.”

 

That seemed to get under Uriah’s skin. He bit his lower lip and nodded, looking down. “You talk a big game about not getting fooled, for a dude who’s getting played like a violin,” he said, and then began chuckling. Soon he was laughing outright.

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Exactly what it sounds like.”