(Author's note: Hey everyone! I have been binging "You" on Netflix and I absolutely love the show and the book. I decided I wanted to write an alternate scene when Beck and Peach go to the Salinger estate with a lot more sexy action and a lot less Joe. Hope you enjoy :)
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Beck, Beck, Beck...what are you doing here? You wake up wrapped up in an unfamiliar bed in a room that looks like it's from the 50s. There's no clock in here but sunlight is pouring in from the east-facing window. The bright blue wallpaper and white vanity reflects the sun and it is blinding. You cover your eyes. The Salinger estate is expensive and clean and feels like it was built to be displayed, not lived in. You check your phone, scrolling through Lynn and Annika's insta to catch up on what they were up to last night.
They were drinking twenty-dollar cocktails at Attaboy and you don't recognize the guys that have their arms possessively around them. It's eight fifteen in the morning and they won't be up for another few hours. You lay back on the bed and hide your toes in the duvet. Their night looked fun and you're a bit jealous, though honestly your wallet is thanking you for not participating last night. It's so quiet here, though acres and acres of private property will do that to a place. You hear noise downstairs while you're sifting through school e-mails. Peach is up and you reluctantly get out of your blanket cocoon and head downstairs.
Whoa. What is going on here? Peach is already in full makeup and a black button up sweater and black pants, her jet-black hair straightened and shiny. She's sitting in the dining room eating breakfast. "Morning, Beckalissima!" She says cheerfully, probably still coasting on her runner's high.
"What are you doing?" You ask.
"Just eating breakfast. I was starving!" she exclaims.
"You don't eat any of this..." you say, incredulously. Peach says something about the memory of this house and how her aunt used to always make an enormous spread and you just can't stop staring at.all.the.food. Waffles, orange juice, bacon, scrambled eggs...made by a girl whose regular breakfast is a single whole wheat pancake or an egg white fajita? She starts going over the day's itinerary. She's being so weird right now, and why is the day jam packed with events when the whole point was to get away from it all?
"You haven't shopped retail since the Steve Madden incident freshman year." You say with a frown. It's confusing and you're thinking about your pages of poetry that were due and it's like Peach senses your attention wavering because she's rubbing her temple where she was hit. She was attacked in the park, by a stalker, and here you are thinking about writing. You are such a dick.
You feel even worse when she lovingly puts a waffle onto your plate.
"I've been a lot to handle lately, and I want to make it up to you."
"Of course." You say with a breath and force a smile onto your face as she pours syrup over your waffle.
The driver picks you up not long after in a black luxury sedan. You say a polite hello to him but Peach is too busy with her phone texting Lynn and Annika. The sky is pure blue and you are transfixed at the scenery, the lush green, idyllic world you've suddenly been transported to. The driver notices your attention and he starts to tell you a little bit about the history, pointing out small landmarks. "You'll want to look to the left, we're coming up to a beautiful house." He said shortly. "Oh wow." You wonder what sort of life someone would have to live to require seven garages. You can almost imagine yourself relaxing in the gazebo, reading a book, or spending a day in the swimming pool. "How can anyone afford this?" You murmur to yourself.
Peach stops texting to look at you and chuckles lightly. "Oh Beck." She has awakened from her phone trance and now takes over, pointing out places to you. "You'll never find a for sale sign here." She says, almost gloatingly. "It doesn't work with the aesthetic."
It wasn't as bad as you thought, the leaves of the trees are just turning golden and the air is so clean here. Peach is being her usual generous self and buys you a very large americano. The two of you go into store after store and you balk at the prices, but Peach assures you that she will get you anything you like for being "such a good friend in my time of crisis". She takes your hand and pulls you into a boutique. An austere lady who looks to be in her fifties greets the two of you. "Let's get you a dress!" Peach says, flipping through the dresses nonchalantly. You take one look at the prices and wish you hadn't. Even the price tags feel expensive! "Peach..." You say uncomfortably.
