"Like hell you aren't!" Bekka yelled back, but was then silent. She had to think. Before she came in, before confronting Tatum she had tried to write everything out in a new notebook, plan out her words and demands, get the phrasing right. The only fault in her plan, now that it was in action, was that she was still a teenage girl, one who was stressed and without sleep and just a little big scared. This wasn't as calm or Soprano-esque as she had planned out.

She took a few breaths, looked Tatum over and glanced back to the door. Frankie. Right. Frankie was her bargaining chip here, and Bekka couldn't let herself forget that.

"You're buying me a new bed." She started again, much (albeit forced) calmer. "But you're going to have to do a hell of a lot more than that for me not to go post a warning to anyone's roommate that you're sleeping with. Warning them to cover their sheets in plastic or some shit."