#&.beck

stella: beckkkkkkkkkk

stella: beck beck beck beck beck

“beck!” stella’s voice rings down the hallway of their apartment toward his open bedroom door. “we’re going to be late.” her words emerge sharper than intended. she takes a deep breath, counts to five with the inhale, smooths the neckline of her dress so it lies just so against her chest. her mother had enlisted her presence at another event-- what was it the woman had planned this time? a charity auction for the preservation of some strange, exotic bird stella couldn’t pronounce the name of-- and, unwilling to sit through the evening alone, she’d pouted until beck agreed to tag along. again. only moments before they’d walked out the door beck had realized he’d misplaced his wallet, and delayed the whole operation while he searched. “did you check with all your work stuff?” with an impatient huff, stella set her clutch on the kitchen table, moving to rummage through the bag he’d left in a chair. only-- the top of a paper, peeking out from a file folder, caught her attention. harrington industries. she recognized the name. it often appeared next to her family’s as a sponsor for various benefits. 

she can’t help it-- she pulls out the folder, flipping it open to reveal page after page of business items. contracts and proposals and emails, printed and earmarked, beck’s familiar scrawl penning notes in the margins. a line appears in the furrow between her brows. only the approaching sound of beck’s footsteps, his figure looming in the entryway, breaks her attention. she stands, file folder in hand, unsure if he’s caught her or she’s caught him. “what is all this?” she’s sure he’ll know what she means, even before she places the documents face-up on the table. “you involved in some secret business deals or something?”