Hey folks,
This is an old story, previously titled "Flirting the Fence" that I've decided to re-write, because why not.
I've kept the heart of the story and really only lightly edited it.
Rosi
***
I don't want to be alone.
It was that thought which had prompted Beth to accept Day's offhand offer. Though it was obvious that was the last thing the man expected.
Beth watched Day's mouth move like a fish out of water for a full minute while her mind reeled at what she'd just done. Not offered. No,
demanded
.
The alcohol had been flushed out by fear and adrenaline long ago, leaving her exhausted and painfully aware that she was alone. The life that she'd built for herself—the things she'd sacrificed for a hopeful future—were gone now, leaving sand where the castles had been.
It was stupid. So stupid. Her mother had always told Beth not to but all her eggs in one basket, and despite her best judgement that's exactly what she'd done.
And look where that got her.
Never in Beth's life had she done anything like this. Crying was a solitary practice she indulged in on rare occasions with her pillow,
not
with strange men. Strange men who she said she'd sleep with.
And that's all it would be
.
Sex was the furtherst thing from her mind, but compainonship and the warmth of another person weren't. Day's arms were massive, warm, and they offered the comfort she so desperately needed.
"Ah..." Day sighed, mouth finally closing. "Look, you're... attractive but I—"
"Not for sex," Beth rushed to say. "I just can't be alone."
Sleep tugged at Day, placing bags under his eyes and making him yawn constantly. Beth was right there with him, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as a large yawn took her over.
"Just sleep," he said after a long minute, eyes closed and head bobbing.
"Yeah."
Day nodded slowly before gripping her waist and setting Beth away from him. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he muttered, "Follow me," rose from the couch and stumbled toward the back of the apartment. Beth followed him, wincing as she moved. A wrong step made her stumble with a sharp intake of breath but Day turned to catch he before she banged into the wall.
"Why wear those shoes if they put you in this much pain?" he grumbled, hauling her up in his arms and quickly striding over to the door at the end of the hallway.
"They're not walking heels. They were just for the party. Not for... anything else," Beth finished slowly, blinking as she was deposited onto the toilet of a bathroom.
"Medicine cabinet has a new toothbrush. Feel free to use anything else you need. I'll get you a change of clothes unless you wanna sleep in that?"
Sequins were not made for sleeping. "Clothes would be great."
He nodded and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Beth did a quick look around the sparse bathroom, noticing the dark purple paisley shower curtain and matching rug. Day didn't strike her as a paisley guy, or even one to carry a color scheme through towels and a soapdish. But before the why thoughts could take her, another yawn intercepted the train of thought. It was a miracle she got through brushing her teeth and washing her face without dropping dead asleep.
A knock made her pull the towel from her face as a hand piled high with clothes slid through the crack in the door. "T-shirt and shorts."
Beth took them gratefully, mumbling a "Thank you" before the hand disappeared and she head the creak of bed springs. She slipped into the clean and stared at her reflection, not recognizing herself. Her bedtime ritual with Jason had been arduous, heavy on creams to keep her looking young and nightgowns to keep him interested in her body.
Anyone who says teddies are fun to sleep in lies.
Pushing away from the counter and the woman she didn't know anymore, Beth opened the bathroom door, turning off the lights as she stepped into the room. Day had been so quick about carrying her to the bathroom that she hadn't gotten a good look at the bedroom. Streetlights peeking through the dark curtains gave large pieces of furniture fuzzy outlines but didn't do anything for colors or smaller items. For all intents and purposes it looked like any bedroom, complete with dresser, bed, and side-table.
Carefully, Beth made her way over to the bed, making sure she didn't trip over anything on the floor. But there was nothing but hardwood and a very soft rug the closer she got to the bed.
Her hands felt across the comforter, moving toward the pillows at the headboard. Pulling the sheets back, she crawled in, mindful not to touch the man laying on his side. Away from her. It wasn't exactly the comfort she wanted, but it was enough.
"Night," Day said gruffly from his side of the bed.
Beth closed her eyes, willing the world away. For a few hours.
Just a few hours.
"Good night."
***
Day was having a dream about Shontell. He knew it was a dream. His wife was dead, and all he had left of her were memories and torturous dreams. Dreams with her laughing beside him. Carrying Brian against her chest and sending Day a sassy smirk over her shoulder. Of her back arched, neck straining, nails digging into his forearms as he fucked her slow and deep.
As Day looked down at Shontell, peeking up him, he knew what kind of dream it was going to be. But he couldn't let it go. Didn't want to wake up and face cool sheets and the realities of a single parent. With a raging erection. So he settled down, trailing his eyes over her kinky hair, smooth ebony skin, and dark eyes. Always the darkest eyes that saw everything and knew far too much.
Shontell smiled, mouth moving. He couldn't hear what she said, but she didn't seem to mind as she reached up to kiss him...
Day woke up with a start, tears leaking from his eyes.
Breathe, damnit,
he reminded himself, trying to conjure the woman he loved since childhood saying those exact words to him.
Breathe, baby. It gets better.
He squeezed his eyes shut because Day knew it fucking didn't. But there wasn't anything to do. He wasn't master of time and fate—only himself. He could control himself. So he did. Cutting off Shontell's voice, Day took a deep breath and composed himself.
"Hmm..."
What the fuck?!
Day popped open his eyes, and stared down at the redhead pressed against his side, her head pillowed on his chest, small hand curled up on his shoulder. The previous night came back in impressions as he remembered who the woman was and why she was sleeping in his bed. Though that reason didn't matter to his dick. Nope, it felt a warm, soft body and hardered like Pavlov's damn dog.
The groan turned into a sharp clenching of teeth as he realized that his dick was tenting the sheets directly.
Where are my pants?
His heel caught the soft edge of jersey fabric and he knew he'd kicked them off, just like he did every night. Shontell had thought it was hilarious: every night he went to bed in a t-shirt and sleep pants and every morning he woke up naked as a jaybird.
The women shifted again, bringing her leg dangerously close to his erection. Day set his mouth in a grim line. No way he wanted to wake her. No matter that she was in his home—his bed—body wrapped tight around him. This wouldn't play out in his favor.
Very slowly, very quietly, Day began to move away from her, disentangling their limbs.
"Day?" the woman said in a sleepy voice, just as he had moved her leg off him.
He paused in his tracks, trying to think of what to do.
"Please... don't leave."
Well, damn.
"I'm naked. Kicked off my clothes during the night. It—
fuck!
—it was an accident."
There were two ways this played out: she screamed rape or she ran. Either wasn't exactly positive, but he wouldn't be mad at the later. Not unless the cops showed up.
"My fiancé cheated on me with my best friend," Beth interrupted his mental guessing game, taking Day by surprise.
Day moved his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up so he could look at her, read the expression on her face. Vulnerability and loss stared back at him, reminding him acutely of his own. The only thing he had to fear from this woman was a snot soaked sheet. Settling back down, he wrapped an arm around her, careful not to pull her close or push her away. It was a hug, a show of solidarity that he thought she needed.
Tentatively, Beth lowered her head back down, half burying it in his chest.
"Um... My name's Beth," she muttered against his chest.
"Yeah, I know. Read your license."
"Wasn't sure if you forgot."
"No. But you look like a Mary." Day wanted to smack himself for being so rude. Here she was trying to rely on him, and he was being an ass. "Sorry. I'm not a morn—"
"You weren't far off. Mary's my middle name," Beth said with a small, genuine laugh.
Day just grunted, waiting for her to continue.
"I went to a friend's birthday party yesterday. I was supposed to get home late, but I didn't." She stopped, fingers curling into a fist on his shoulder. Day didn't think about his reaction as he reached up and uncurled her fingers, rubbing at the nail indentations on her palm. She took a shaky breath in before continuing, "I found them on the kitchen table. She came with me to pick out that table."
"Dude's a fucking prick, and the chick's a whore," Day spat out before he could think better of it. He was usually candid. Working in construction had turned his speech blunt, with an edge of no-nonese. But he wasn't in a hard hat, talking to his crews. A lady—every inch that definition—was curled against him, baring her misery. But refining his ways was hard first thing in the morning with an erection that could pound nails.
"Yup," she agreed with a deep laugh that shook her breasts and shoulders. "No arguments here."
