GW500 #29 - Unsure
Posted: Wed Jul 14, 2004 9:04 pm
Umm..this is my first time at trying one of these contests, so it isn't very good. It's exactly 500 words though! That's a good point!
I would love a reviewer beta, if anyone won't mind. Thanks for reading!
Unsure (hesitant title, I'm terrible at titles)
She woke to the experiences of morning, something she didn?t realize she missed. Alone in the bed, her hand on the warm dip of mattress that he previously occupied, she debated her next step. Weakness had brought her to him again, late at night and slightly inebriated, but he was ready and accepting of her.
Always accepting of her.
It drove her crazy most of the time, except for when she was too weak to care.
Previous encounters had showed her that he would be in the kitchen making her breakfast. He knew what she liked, black coffee and a Spanish style omelet, how he knew she wasn?t quite sure. That gesture alone prevented her from any accusations of their...connection being mutually physical. Purely physical partners did not make breakfast for each other.
The last time, if she remembered correctly, she had dressed and coldly assessed him when he came into the bedroom, breakfast tray in hand. A few harsh words and she strolled out the door, ignoring his look of pain and understanding (which infuriated her).
The time before that she had snuck out like a stray cat, too sophisticated to be caught sleeping. He had called her a few times which she would never answer and eventually he gave up or backed off. She wasn?t sure which it was because while he stopped calling, she had a feeling he didn?t give up on things that easily.
So many mornings and so many escapes, accusations, even arguments when she could pick them out of him. She was running out of ideas.
Of course, it occurred to her occasionally, when she was still lying awake on the bed, nestled in his sheets and scent, that she could just stay here. What would happen then? Would he be happy or surprised? Or would it be an uncomfortable situation, as if he always just assumed she would run and had no idea what to do if she actually stayed. She didn?t really blame, she didn?t have any idea of what to do either.
The sounds of cooking had stopped and the news was shut off. He was coming. Her hands felt heavy and numb, blood rushing from her heart to her head.
Maybe if she pretended she was still asleep...
Embarrassment at her ridiculous behavior had her cheeks flushed. The soft taps of his foot steps into the room stole her breath. She could get up now and start a fight, then make a quick exit.
The tinkling of glass rang out when he set the tray on the night stand. Her fingers throbbed with their tight clutching. She could feign sleep until he went away and then slip out quietly.
The bed dipped with his weight and suddenly he was there. She could smell him and feel his warmth settling into her skin.
?Thank you.? He whispered, touching his mouth to her cheek, and she opened her eyes.
Or maybe she could try his omelet and coffee, just to see what she?s been missing.
I would love a reviewer beta, if anyone won't mind. Thanks for reading!
Unsure (hesitant title, I'm terrible at titles)
She woke to the experiences of morning, something she didn?t realize she missed. Alone in the bed, her hand on the warm dip of mattress that he previously occupied, she debated her next step. Weakness had brought her to him again, late at night and slightly inebriated, but he was ready and accepting of her.
Always accepting of her.
It drove her crazy most of the time, except for when she was too weak to care.
Previous encounters had showed her that he would be in the kitchen making her breakfast. He knew what she liked, black coffee and a Spanish style omelet, how he knew she wasn?t quite sure. That gesture alone prevented her from any accusations of their...connection being mutually physical. Purely physical partners did not make breakfast for each other.
The last time, if she remembered correctly, she had dressed and coldly assessed him when he came into the bedroom, breakfast tray in hand. A few harsh words and she strolled out the door, ignoring his look of pain and understanding (which infuriated her).
The time before that she had snuck out like a stray cat, too sophisticated to be caught sleeping. He had called her a few times which she would never answer and eventually he gave up or backed off. She wasn?t sure which it was because while he stopped calling, she had a feeling he didn?t give up on things that easily.
So many mornings and so many escapes, accusations, even arguments when she could pick them out of him. She was running out of ideas.
Of course, it occurred to her occasionally, when she was still lying awake on the bed, nestled in his sheets and scent, that she could just stay here. What would happen then? Would he be happy or surprised? Or would it be an uncomfortable situation, as if he always just assumed she would run and had no idea what to do if she actually stayed. She didn?t really blame, she didn?t have any idea of what to do either.
The sounds of cooking had stopped and the news was shut off. He was coming. Her hands felt heavy and numb, blood rushing from her heart to her head.
Maybe if she pretended she was still asleep...
Embarrassment at her ridiculous behavior had her cheeks flushed. The soft taps of his foot steps into the room stole her breath. She could get up now and start a fight, then make a quick exit.
The tinkling of glass rang out when he set the tray on the night stand. Her fingers throbbed with their tight clutching. She could feign sleep until he went away and then slip out quietly.
The bed dipped with his weight and suddenly he was there. She could smell him and feel his warmth settling into her skin.
?Thank you.? He whispered, touching his mouth to her cheek, and she opened her eyes.
Or maybe she could try his omelet and coffee, just to see what she?s been missing.