Hey everyone,
As many of you already know, I had to evacuate China (the country I'd been living in for a few years) a few months back. I decided to go to America since that's where I'm from and where my family is. Whelp, let's just say things didn't settle down and get back to normal. It's been a rough couple of... forever? Feels like
forever
.
Anyway, I was about halfway through chapter five when all this shit hit and I haven't really been able to get the second half done. Now, the only reason I'm posting a half finished chapter is because I have EVERY INTENTION to finish it soon. I've also been getting asked when Day and Beth are making an appearance and I don't think it's fair to the readers to have you all waiting any longer.
But before we dive in know two things: 1) it's short (cause, ya know, it's half a chapter) and 2) there's no sex, only feelings. So. Many. Feelings.
I'm always a big advocate for constructive feedback, and would especially like it for this chapter since it's so feeling-heavy.
And one more thing: I'll be posting all of my work on Lit for the foreseeable future. Who knows what's going to happen tomorrow and as fun as it is to have these stories sitting on my laptop collecting dust waiting for me to get my shit together and publish them, I figured it was about time I just got on with it.
That being said, you can look at my profile for more information. Spoiler: it's all about staying inside and helping out your community in times of crisis.
Enough talking. Let's end with thanks for reading, rating, and the feedback.
-Rosi
***
Beth's lips were soft on Day's, a slow exploration as her fingers rubbed circles in his neck. This was new to him—making out like teenagers on the couch, dry humping with no intention to go further.
For the moment.
Day drew back, taking a breath and a second to process what he'd promised: to try.
She drives me crazy! Woo! Woo!
Blinking back in surprise, he listened to the trilling of a late eighties' song. "That yours?"
Panting, still grinding that hot little pussy over him, Beth nodded. "It is."
Fucking her raw on the couch wasn't in his plans for the night, but that's exactly where it was going. Day knew this and the interruption of the ring tone was the only thing keeping him from making it a reality. "You gonna answer it?"
She paused, frowned, rolled her eyes and snatched up the phone. "Hey, Mom."
That right there should have been an ice bath to his dick, but it wasn't. Not with Beth still in his lap, her tits still in his face, and her thighs spread wide. But he couldn't find it in himself to move her or himself, especially not when her face changed from flushed, wide-eyed excitement to pinched shame.
Immediately, he tuned into her conversation.
"What happened?" Beth's mother asked, voice frantic. "We got a call from a lawyer and a reporter!"
"Jason," Beth started with a deep sigh, leaning forward and dropping her forehead on Day's shoulder. His hands went from her waist up: one burying in her hair while the other rubbed soothing circles into her back. "Attacked Simone and me."
"I knew there was something off with that man. Piece of dog shit, he is!" a male voice spat, even as Beth's mother gasped, "What?"
"Hey, Daddy."
"Ya shoot his ass, Beth?"
"No."
"This is why you need a gun—"
"I do not
need
a gun, Daddy. Jesus Christ."
"But you're alright, Beth?" her mother interrupted, worry gnawing at the words. "You're somewhere safe?"
"I'm fine. A little shook up, but I'm with a friend."
Only the jerk of his muscles gave Day away. Because they weren't friends, not really. Not lovers either. They were just two people with feelings that were faster than labels. Faster than either could process, even as they tried.
"But what
happened
, honey?" her mother tried again, desperation edging her tone. "You seemed to be gettin' along—I mean you were plannin' a wedding! Then he attacks you?"
"I—" she started, stopped, blew out the longest breath in history and sagged against him as all the energy drained out of her. But never once did Day pull away or stop the movement of his hands. "I caught him having an affair. In our home. A few days ago."
Each line seemed to be ripped from her, quick with an overly long pause between the sentences. "I left. I've been staying at a hotel for the past week. But I went back yesterday and..."
"You're not staying with one of his friends, are you?" her father asked abruptly, fury in the words.
"No. I'm staying with someone he doesn't know."
"Good. Good." The words were practically growled before all semblance of rationality flew out the window. "I'm gonna fucking kill 'im."
Day shivered at the threat because it was sounded real. Whoever Beth's father was, the man knew how to deliver a threat.
"He's not worth prison, Dad."
"You let me decide that."
"No, Mr. McNair," Beth's mother snapped, voice just as hard and ruthless as her husband's, "I can't run a farm by myself, so you're not killing Jason. And don't you know that everyone is listening to these calls. That's no way to plan a murder."
Her parents are insane,
Day thought with a smile. He couldn't remember a time when he'd had a conversation even close to the one Beth and her parents were having. His mother and grandmother had been too serious, too busy, and too aware of the realities of being Black in America. You didn't deliver threats, make jokes, or say anything that—if it was played back on a recording—could be used to get you thrown in jail. Hell, he hadn't even grown up with a social media account. The best feature his phone had growing up was long-distance calling.
"Mom, Dad," Beth groaned, the sound vibrating against Day's shoulder, "I gotta get some rest."
"Did you have to go to the hospital?" her mother asked abruptly before Beth could end the call.
"No... I'm also just remembering where you live. Please go down to Perry's and spread the word that I'm fine. Not in a hospital. Not dead. Fine."
"I wouldn't use fine right now."
"I'm... dealing with it. It's just a lot. I was... so scared."
"Oh, honey," her mother said gently, the words almost a physical caress. "I know you were. I'm so sorry you had to experience that."
Day didn't have to think about his arms tightening around Beth, they just did. He felt her pull back slightly, tilting her head to look into his eyes; hers were shiny with unshed tears, but strong. There was so much strength in her body, strength he hadn't seen in a woman since before Shontell had been diagnosed. Men might have the upper-hand physically, but women had the kind of strength that mattered, that brought children into the world, raised them up, created whole movements and generations.
Those were her eyes: purpose and strength and conviction.
"Thank you,"
Beth mouthed, leaning forward to press her lips to his. It was chaste, but that didn't stop the dick that had been relaxing beneath her to take notice.
"Beth!" her father said loudly over the phone, making both Day and Beth jump.
"Huh?"
"I said, don't go back to him," her father said quickly, almost defensively. "You can layer all the honey in the world over shit but it'll never change it."
"I know."
"Do you, honey?" her mother asked with a sad sign. "Just take care. Any second you wanna leave that city and come home, you can."
"I know," Beth replied quietly. "Love y'all."
"Love ya, too," the pair intoned before Beth clicked off the phone and dropped it onto the couch.
Her arms snaked around his neck, holding tight as she took a second to compose herself. Day let her, needing the time himself.
He wasn't exactly sure what to make of the situation. It was obvious her parents were farmers and the causal way guns were brought up, Day believed that Beth was pretty well versed in their use. Probably in lots of things. He'd realized she wasn't native, but the soft drawl and accent she'd adopted on the phone let Day know that it wasn't just different states they came from but completely different world.
White. Farmer's daughter. Set to marry a rich asshole abuser.
Black. From the hood. Windowed with a kid.
Try.
"Your parents seem nice," Day finally said to break the silence and the creeping tension.
Her laughter was soft. "They are. Nice and crazy. They were deep into Woodstock and all the drugs. Did the commune thing. Hated it. Loved growing their own food, taking care of the animals. Took their weed money and bought a farm. Been there 30 years."
Day tugged at her hair until she pulled back and met his eyes. "Are you serious?"
"Actually, yes."
"Okay." Day wasn't exactly sure what response she was hoping for in telling him the story.
She smiled, swinging her legs off him and moving toward the other end of the couch.
"Are you telling me your parents never had a life outside of you?"
Scratching the back of his head, Day thought about how to best answer that. "It's different for black people."
"Life?" She smirked.
