A delightful warmth surrounds my entire body and I will myself to not wake up. A pleasant and inviting aroma accompanies it, enticing my lady parts. Dreams like this one need to feel this real more often.
“Oh, girl,” my inner voice says with a yawn. “We just had some long-needed good night’s—“
Something tugs gently at my body and my eyes spring open. My heart thuds in my chest, hard enough to be felt in my ears as I realize that I’m not actually dreaming.
Keeping as still as possible, my gaze flits around my surroundings. Panic rises within as reality sets in. I’m not in my apartment! Worse, I don’t recognize where I am at all!
The bed shifts slightly and I’m suddenly released. I dart out of the bed and press my back to the closest wall to assess my situation. After a few deep breathes, I shift closer to the sleeping body. My head tilts to get a better look at the man’s face, but most of it is hidden by his arm and the pillow.
Where the fuck am I?
The last conversations I had at the bar last night flood into my mind like an avalanche. Anger surges through me instantly and I look for the closest thing to use as a weapon.
“Don’t do it,” my inner voice warns. “You—“
“You fucking asshole!” I shout, striking him with a pillow. I manage to get in two more rounds before he yanks it away, leaving me defenseless.
“What the fuck?” he groans.
Fury cancels out any and all logic. Climbing back onto the bed, I begin swinging my fists in his direction. “You lying, arrogant, fucking prick!”
“What the fuck is your problem, Simone?” He takes a hold of me, flipping us so I’m on my back, allowing him to hover over me.
“Ooh, I like this,” my inner voice coos. “And, he’s topless!”
“You!” I seethe, staring into Wes’ face as I buck my body to get free. “You fucking date-rape drugged me!”
“I did not,” he claims with a snort as he keeps my arms and body secure.
“Then, how the fuck did I end up in your bed?” I reply, enunciating my last three words very clearly.
“You don’t remember?” he asks appearing genuinely hurt.
“You’d think we’d remember getting pummeled by his cock,” my inner voice states. “The va-jay-jay doesn’t remember anything.”
“I remember everything at the bar,” I say heatedly. “You brought me what was supposed to be water, claiming that it was clean.”
“It was clean.”
“You drugged me you fucking—"
“Do you actually want to know what happened?” he asks with controlled anger in his tone.
My head tilts to the side as I offer a no shit you fucking idiot expression. How did he drink half of the liquid and manage to bring me here? Is there an anti-date rape drug he took prior? Is there even such a thing?
“I’ll release you, but you need to stay calm.”
Calm? This motherfucker thinks I’m going to stay calm while he tells me how he drugged me, brought me back to his fucking apartment and then proceeded to have his way with me. He’s a fucking idiot!
“Calm is good,” my inner voice states. “That way we can find out if the sex was that bad causing us both to purposefully forget.”
I nod.
Wes lets go of my hands, but doesn’t move right away. He watches me as he carefully lifts himself up. As he’s halfway, I spring into action, attacking him again, gaining the upper hand by straddling him. Wes retrains my hands behind my back. Frustrated and still angry, my body convulses in an effort to break free.
“Fuck,” he groans a second after our heads collide.
The pain reverberates in my skull, making me feel dizzy and disoriented. It feels like it hurts more than it should.
“Well, that was stupid,” my inner voice laughs snidely.
“You okay?” he asks sweetly as he touches the side of my head.
I take in several slow, deep breaths realizing that I’ve managed to trap myself and that he’s not going to believe me if I say I’ll remain calm.
“Ow,” I whine when his fingers graze along my hairline. My entire head pulses with pain.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry?” I retort. “Sorry for what? Drugging me? Raping me? Hurt—“
Wes’ hand tightens around my wrist as his other takes a firm hold of my chin. “I did not drug you. I did not rape you. I did not—“
I yank my chin from his grasp. “You’re a fucking idiot to have brought me here. It’ll be easy for the police to collect the evidence after they arrest your sorry ass!”
“They won’t find anything because I didn’t rape you,” he claims, fighting to maintain his composure.
“Really?” I balk. “Really? Then how did I get here? Why don’t I remember? And…” I take note of my bare legs and the oversized shirt I’m wearing. “And, where the fuck are my goddamn clothes?”
Wes chuckles.
“You find this fucking funny?”
His head shakes as he continues to bite back his laughter.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” I huff. “I’m—“
“I’m not an asshole.”
“The situation says otherwise,” I challenge with my fiercely persistent attitude.
“I….” Wes lets out a slow, controlled breath. “If you give me a fucking minute, I’ll be happy to explain.”
I snort. “There’s nothing to explain, asshole.”
“I saw someone follow you out of the bar,” Wes claims.
“Yeah, you,” I retort.
“He had been watching you most of the night.”
“Again, that man was you.”
Wes’ gaze becomes fierce, penetrating deep into my soul. I’m conflicted by my body’s response—scared and turned on at the same time.
“That’s right…you know you want him,” my inner voice taunts.
“I followed him and watched as he carefully follow you through the blocks,” Wes states. “Why you didn’t get a cab or some other kind of a ride and….” He takes a deep breath. “At least you didn’t make it to the subway.”
I swallow hard as the memory slowly returns. The last thing I had remembered, until now, was Wes offering me water and my suspicion of it being drugged.
“When you hit a corner that had a light out, that’s when he tried to….” Wes pauses for a second, not to scare me, but rather because he appears to be having trouble sharing the incident and controlling his emotions. “He dragged you into the alley. You didn’t get a chance to see him coming, but you did put up a fight. You took the both of you to the ground. You got up and managed to kick him. As you went to step around him to get away, that’s when he caught your foot and you stumbled.”
My head bobs slowly as the experience sends a shiver throughout my body. Aches return to my knees and palms.
“You tried to keep your balance, but you fell into slush and hit your head.” Wes takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t get to you fast enough. I was too far away to—”
In the next moment, I find my lips pressed against his. A few seconds later, I freeze, confused by my actions. It takes another second or two to break the embrace and hang my head in shame and embarrassment.
I shouldn’t have tried to walk home. I thought it was a better idea than to get into a cab or ride-share and risk the dangers of the road conditions. I thought that the subway would be my best option from the snow.
“You attacked him,” I state with a hint of questioning my hazy memory.
Wes nods.
“You…you beat….”
I remember a body coming toward me as I fell. I remember someone punching the guy and I think I remember calling out Wes’ name.
“You okay?” Wes asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
I hesitate to look at him. My head bobs. “Is…he dead?”
“No, but I….” Wes takes a deep, controlled breath. “You pulled me from the anger. You saved his life…not that he deserved it.” His shoulders bounce. “I left him there so he could have….”
Our eyes meet when Wes’ voice trails.
“Does this mean that fucking him is an option again?” my inner voice asks.
“Can I let you go now?” he asks with a soft smile. “Is it safe?”
“No!” my inner voice shouts. “You do not allow that man to let you go. You let him do whatever he’d like to your body.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Yeah.” I let out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Wes sighs. “You’ve got a mean hook.”
His teasing eases my tension, but I still feel like an ass.
The two of us stare into each other’s eyes, neither of us moving. The warmth of his breath tickles my ear and neck, sending a chill down my spine. I gulp and realize that I’m still on his lap.
“Sorry,” I say bashfully, shifting onto the bed.
“Why did you move? He smelled good…and felt good too!” my inner voice shouts. “And, he was topless. At least you could have checked if he was completely naked.”
“You said that already,” he reminds.
Needing to lighten the mood, I face him and ask, “Enjoyed the view?”
“What?” he asks with furrowed brows.
I glance down at my attire.
Wes blushes. “I didn’t look. I swear.”
“Says the player who had every opportun—“
“I’m not a player,” he counters, jumping out of bed.
My gaze darts from his face down his bare chest, to his shorts, and then back up to his face. “Most guys are proud to—“
“I’m not,” he huffs. “I just let people think I am. It gets them off my back.”
“You’re trying to convince yourself that he’s a player and I’m not falling for it,” states my inner voice. “Stop covering for your issues.”
My eyes lower and I fiddle with the edges of the shirt I’m wearing, realizing that there might be more truth to what he’s saying. “Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” he commands, fighting to maintain his composure.
“I….” I pause, preventing myself from saying it again.
“Why do you feel like you need to apologize?” he quips. “You always—“
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not just a woman thing,” he continues. “You do it. You do it and I don’t think you even realize that you do it.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask with a nervous giggle. “We don’t know each other.”
Wes regards me. “We’ve spoken to each other more than two dozen times, Simone.”
“So?”
“Some of them weren’t in a passing moment,” he adds. “We might not have said much, but we were in proximity because of our friends. More so when Jake and Juliet were hooking up.”
I glance around the room. “Where are my clothes?”
“In the wash,” Wes states, gesturing beyond the bedroom door. “I hand washed your…you know…um…because I wasn’t sure if it would mess them up or how you like them cleaned.”
My mouth tugs up to the right. “You washed my bra and panties by hand?”
Wes blushes. “They’re in the bathroom. I hung them. I think they should be dry by now.”
“Great,” I sigh.
“The rest of your clothes need to go into the dryer.”
“Awesome,” I say excitedly. “Once they’re done, I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Uh, that’s not going to happen.”
“What? Why?” I ask nervously.
Wes points to the window. “Aside from the snow, I’m sure the city shutdown due to the storm.”
“It’s just a little bit of snow,” I counter, getting up to look out to see the street. My mouth opens when I see how much has accumulated on the ground. I can’t see a single car or person moving.
It’s not uncommon for New York to get this much snow. However, it is uncommon for there to be this much a few weeks before Thanksgiving.
“It’s going to be more like three feet of snow,” Wes shares.
“They said one,” I huff. “Two at the most. It wasn’t even an inch last night when we went to the bar.”
“Well, it changed.”
“Obviously,” I reply. “No worries. I can still make it home.”
“You’re not leaving.”
My head jerks in his direction. “Says the non-rapist who now wants to hold me hostage?”
Wes’ face falls.
“Sorry,” I say. “That was meant to be a joke. Too soon?”
He nods.
“Right.” I direct my gaze around his room, trying to find something to look at other than him as I tug the shirt I’m wearing down to cover more of my legs.
We’re quiet for a moment.
“No reprimand for that apology?” I inquire playfully.
“Nope,” Wes confirms. “That one was needed.”
“Noted.”
“Do you want to eat first or shower?” Wes asks.
I shrug. “I usually have tea first when I wake up.”
“Not coffee?”
“Nope. I couldn’t ever get into it.” I admit.
“Same.” He glances out the bedroom door. “I don’t have much tea…but I think I have the ingredients to make hot chocolate.”
I smile. “Hot chocolate would be good.”
“If not, I can see if there’s anything down in the apartment community center,” he offers.
“I’ll be okay with whatever you have.”
Wes nods and stares at me for a moment. “Well…um.” He fidgets a little before heading toward his dresser. Wes grabs a shirt. “I’ll give you privacy to use the bathroom. There’s a half bath out here so….”
“Thanks.”
“Here,” he says, opening several drawers. “There are shirts and sweats. Wear whatever until your stuff is done or instead of them. The place can feel drafty on occasion, so you might want to still use a sweater or something.” He opens his closet, showing me where his sweaters are hanging.
“Thank you.”
Wes offers a smile and then heads to the door. I watch him as he closes the door, pausing for a second and then the rest of the way. Darting to the bathroom, I relax the moment my body is able to relieve itself. When done, I peel off his shirt and inspect my body in the mirror. It takes me one second to see the bruise on my forehead and the cut that was tended to by Wes. The bruise stretches down the side of my face to the tip of my eye. I wince the second I touch it.
There are a few scratches, bumps, and bruising from the scuffle and fall along my shoulder and hip, but nothing serious. My winter jacket must have cushioned my fall. I scoff the second I see my face in the reflection. My eyeshadow is crazy, but I manage to fix it with some toilet paper. There’s no way I’m washing it off. Unless you live together, a girl never lets a man see her without makeup.
I find my bra and panties and put them on, thankful for the little bit of coverage. In time, I find the courage to journey back into Wes’ bedroom and select a shirt, sweats, and sweater.
“What’s the word?” I ask as I round the end of the short hallway.
There isn’t an answer.
“Wes?”
“You scared him away!” my inner voice yells.
I spin around in the large living room that flows into the kitchen at the opposite end. Confused, I peer out one of the large windows. The snow is falling faster. With how much is coming down, I can’t make out where we are in the city. I can barely see the buildings on the other side of the street.
My heart nearly jumps out of my chest as a bang catches my attention. Spinning abruptly, I find Wes rushing into the apartment.
“I found some tea down in the center,” he says with a smile. “Would you prefer that or hot chocolate?”
A wry smile emerges on my face. “Do you have milk?”
“Yeah.”
“Then, hot chocolate for me, please. I’ll have tea later.”
Wes nods and enters the kitchen. I watch him retrieve a pot and a can of coconut milk. “This okay? There isn’t enough milk.”
I smile. “Mm-hm.”
When Wes has his back turned, I jump in and take over.
“What are you doing?” he asks, placing two mugs on the counter.
“It’s the least I can do.” I pour the milk into one of the cups and then into the pot. “I am intruding with—“
“You’re not intruding,” Wes interrupts quickly, nudging me out of the way with the side of his body.
“Yes, I am,” I reply, filling the last cup with milk.
We’re quiet as we wait for the liquid to heat. He puts in chocolate powder and adds honey, something else, and cinnamon. Once it’s ready, Wes pours our drinks and I clean the pot.
“So…?” I begin, sitting down at his table.
“So?”
I fiddle with the handle of the mug. “So…why didn’t you just take me back to my place or the hospital?”
Wes lifts a brow as he sips his drink. “With you knocked out, cold, and wet, I figured the closest place would be best. Your injuries didn’t seem major so—“
“He said wet,” my inner voice giggles.
“What are you a doctor?” I ask jokingly.
“Yes.”
When he doesn’t say anything else or indicate by his expression that he’s joking, my mouth opens but nothing comes out for a few beats. I clear my throat and shift in my seat. “Oh.” When he doesn’t say anything, I ask, “Of what?”
“He’s a hot ass doctor too!” coos my inner voice. “Mm. He’s the kind of doctor any sane woman would be a hypochondriac just to be able to see him as often as possible.”
“I’m a naturopathic doctor.”
My lips purse as I nod and then take a sip of my drink. I glance out the window to avoid the awkwardness that I’ve created.
“What do you do?”
A thought pops into my head. “Shit! Where’s my phone?”
“Your bag is over there,” Wes says, pointing toward the hook on the wall next to the main door.
I dart over and check it. The battery is low, but there’s enough juice for a few tasks. Juliet has texted at least sixteen times, but I ignore them as I reach out to my neighbor, Mrs. Downey, asking her to take care of my cat, Napoleon, if Juliet isn’t at the apartment. After that, I look for a news article that might mention my attacker last night.
“Everything okay?” Wes inquires.
I glance up at him and offer a smile. “Yeah. Just needed to ask my neighbor for a favor.” I return to my seat across from him. My attention stays glued on my phone as I take care of a few emails and other things that require attention for business. Mrs. Downey happily agrees and I let out a huge sigh as I place my phone face down on the table. “What?” I ask when I find Wes staring at me.
“You sure everything is okay?”
“Mm-hm.”
“It seemed a bit intense by the expression on your face,” Wes claims.
“Nope. Just making sure my cat will be fed.”
He studies me as he takes another sip. “Your cat being taken care of would relax you.”
“I’m relaxed.”
“No, you’re not,” Wes challenges.
I contemplate whether or not to reveal the article I found.
“What?” Wes presses.
I let out a huff, call up the article, and slide him my phone. Wes takes it and looks at it for a few seconds. He mumbles something under his breath.
“At least they’re not looking for a perp for manslaughter,” I say jokingly.
Wes keeps his eyes on my phone.
My attacker was found alive with his wallet on the ground not far from his body.
“Did…did you make it look like a mugging?” I ask nervously.
Wes’ eyes lift to meet mine.
He doesn’t confirm or deny it, but I can tell that’s what he did.
“Wouldn’t there be prints?” I inquire nervously.
Wes chuckles. “I had gloves on.”
“Of course you did,” I reply.
Theres a long, uncomfortable silence between us.
“So, what do you do?” Wes asks again at some point.
“I get paid to read books.”
Wes looks at me quizzically.
“I’m serious,” I say with a nervous giggle. “I’m the voice of fourteen soon-to-be fifteen published books.”
“That’s a lot of books.”
“That’s what she said,” I say with a snort.
Wes grins. “Really?”
“Yep. I went there.”
“That was lame,” my inner voice chides.
“I think we need to inspect that bump again.”
“What? Why?” I ask, placing my hand up to it gently. “Is something wrong? Is it bleeding? Shit!” I shift my hair more to cover it.
“No,” Wes laughs. “You’re trying to be funny and nice.”
“I’m always funny and nice.”
“Says the girl who usually acts like a bitch, especially last night.”
“I’m not a bitch,” I return defensively, accompanied by an abrupt mood change.
“Damn. He’s not afraid to call you out,” cackles my inner voice.
“I didn’t say you are one,” Wes declares. “I said you were acting like one.”
“Says the asshole player,” I rebut.
“I’m not a player.”
“Everyone who has been to that bar more than once knows you are,” I say dramatically.
Wes’ face shifts to a deadpan expression. “I’m planning on going down to the gym.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
He takes a gulp of his drink and places the mug in the sink. “You can come with me.”
I gesture to my body. “Not quite equipped via clothing or shoe wise for it.”
Wes’ eyes trail the length of my body.