Taking a long, slow drag from the cigarette, her mouth filled with the hot, slightly bitter smoke. It flooded her lungs, warming her a little from the inside out. She held the breath for a few seconds before exhaling - the smoke swirling together with her condensed breath and clouding around her face.
Fine drops of sleety rain fell from thick grey clouds. A sharp wind whipped around the parking lot, the icy air prickled her skin, numbing it. But the alcohol in her veins had rendered her immune to any sensation other than numb bliss. She ignored the frost eking through her thin denim jacket and concentrated on enjoying her cigarette.
Leaning against the back door of The Velvet Rope, she shut her eyes to stop the swaying sensation. The world was twirling around her, pounding her brain against her skull in a dull rhythm. Feeling lightheaded she brought the filter back to her lips and inhaled.
"Emma."
Eyes flashing open, she froze. Slowly she parted her lips and became once again consumed in a cloud of smoke, giving herself a second to think. What is he doing here? She looked down, concentrating on tapping filter of the cigarette, tiny embers of ash sprinkling to the ground where they quickly fizzled into darkness.
Footsteps approached and her stomach lurched to one side.
"What are you doing here?"she asked flatly, still keeping her gaze fixed on the ground. The asphalt was still damp from the earlier rainfall and the security light above the door cast little reflections in the pooling water that stung her tired eyes.
Another drag. Another mouthful of dry, hot air. Her tongue felt numb and thick like dry cotton wool.
"I didn't know you smoked."His voice was soft and quiet.
"I don't,"she replied, finally looking up as she expelled the breath she had been holding. "But I find a Marlboro goes quite well with a glass of Jack."
The longer she was outside in the clear, winter air, the more the alcohol she had consumed began to take over. Her skin flushed hot and reddened. Her head felt foggy and light. A giddy, reckless sensation settled over her.
"You forgot this,"he said, holding out a familiar, thick envelope.
She caught his eyes for a second: steely blue and boring into her almost expectantly.
"Keep it,"she sighed, dropping the remaining half of the cigarette onto the floor and stubbing it out under the toe of her black, heeled boot. Flashing him a last glance, she turned and walked across the dimly lit parking lot. Quick paces were made more difficult by the rising wave of tipsiness that was overcoming her limbs. Her legs felt heavy and within seconds she had stumbled and landed knees with a soft thud.
"Shit,"she muttered. The uneven surface dug into her skin and tiny crumbs of the asphalt clung to her palms as she started to push herself back up.
A firm hand slipped under her arm and hauled her back to her feet. Once standing, she shook him away and rubbed her hands together, brushing away the gravel from her skin. "Thanks,"she whispered with a harsh reluctance.
He lifted his hand again and pushed the envelope towards her. "Here. Take it."
Narrowing her eyes, she let her forehead wrinkle into soft furrows. The stack of money in front of her was making her feel physically sick. It was a reminder of all she was and all that was so disgusting about Emma Swan. Pursing her lips, she spat, "I said keep it."
"We had an agreement. It's yours."
"Well, things change,"she replied wryly. Finally, he slipped the envelope back inside his jacket and they stood in awkward silence.
Rifling in her jeans pocket, she pulled out a bundle of jingling keys and started to move away with small, fast footsteps until she reached her car, a faded red Ford with duct tape holding down the hood.
His hand was on hers, pulling the key from her grasp, before she could slide it into the lock.
"You are not driving in this condition."
Pivoting on her heel, she found herself pressed back against the side of the car, one of his hands lay against the window as he leaned over her. "You're drunk."His breath was warm and he smelled familiar. A tingle crept down her spine and her heart began to beat rapidly.
The way he looked at her was confusing. She wanted to be angry, though she wasn't even sure why. But his eyes locked with hers and the anger dampened in her throat. He looked serious, concerned even. Sucking in a breath she snatched her gaze away to the darkness behind him.
Frustrated and tired, she tried to retrieve the keys, "It was just a few glasses of Jack. I'm fine."
As she spoke, her knees gave out and she fell against his warm, firm chest. Briefly, he was holding her: his fingers tightly gripping her arms, her face nestled in his neck, soaking in his smell of musky cologne and soap. It was safe, comfortable and slightly disarming. She wrestled herself free before the sensation could settle.
"Really?"He cocked an eyebrow and she sank back against the cold metal of the car.
Chuckling lightly, she twisted her head to one side and glanced at him through a veil of dark lashes. "Why are you here?"
"Why do you think?"he retorted, parting his lips as his eyes roamed over her face, not giving anything away.
Hot little sparks created a flush on her cheeks. An answer rose in her throat, but she quickly choked it down. His gaze was intense and it scared her, so she closed her eyes instead of thinking about the meaning behind his words.
Finally, he continued, "But it's a good thing I am. Come on, I'm driving."
A part of her wanted to protest and tell him where to go - to leave her. She had put their few days together in her past now. It was just a memory. And his presence was taunting her. But she was too tired and drunk to really argue, so grudgingly she gave him a small nod and walked around to the passenger side, letting him slide into the driver's seat.
"Just park here,"she mumbled.
She was curled in a ball on the seat, her hair wrapped around her face, her body fully consumed with the after effects of too much whiskey.
The car rolled to a stop in front of a row small, single story houses. Each one painted a faded, yellowing white, with a small sinking porch and a sparse patch of grass outside.
"Home sweet home."
Before she could stop him, he had left the car and opened her door, his hand was at her waist and he was helping her up.
"Stop,"she moaned weakly as his arm tightened. Her head fell against his shoulder, fatigue rippling through her in heavy, throbbing waves.
They stumbled up the short path, her face pressed against his shoulder, his fingers wrapped in her belt loops, holding her up: all the way she muttered about how he should leave her, go away, stop…
Reaching the door, she fumbled with her key until she noticed a laminated red sign taped over the door.
Eviction Notice
The rest of the words blurred and her head pinched as she thought of last months missed rent. "Crap,"she spat, banging her fist against the peeling paint of the door. "You can't do this!"she cried, "I have rights!"
As she continued to slam her hands against the door, the sound of a neighbor's dog barking began to fill the silent night and a few lights began to flicker in the neighboring houses.
"Emma, stop,"he soothed; his hands were now on her shoulders, squeezing gently. It felt good.
"My house…My things…"she sighed, eyes squeezing closed and a single tear rolling down her cheek that she deftly wiped away before he could see.
"It's late. We'll fix it tomorrow."
"We'll?"she asked, turning to look at look at him.
"You'll. Whatever."He shook his head, "I'm not leaving you here to freeze tonight."
A moment passed. He was so close - memories of the last night they had spent together came flooding back, mingling with her drunkenness and creating a heady state being where she almost forgot for a moment how they had ended up at this point.
"So what now?"she pushed, knowing what he was going to say. Already realizing she had no choice but to say yes.
"Come back with me."
Wide eyed, she bit her lip.
"No strings. You can have the bed."
After a few slow breaths she finally nodded, allowing him to direct her back towards the car and slipping into a deep sleep as they drove away.
She felt weightless yet heavy at the same time.
Flashing between darkness and bright lights.
Hushed voices and then silence.
Yawning, she awoke to the sensation of her shoes being slipped from her feet.
"Hmmm,"she groaned, stretching against the soft surface on which she lay. Her jacket was gone and the bare skin of her arms danced over the silk-like cotton sheets that had grown somewhat familiar to her.
"Shhh,"he hushed, "Just sleep."
Her eyes darted open and she looked quickly from left to right - the events of the last hour flooding back as her head began to pound. "Oww,"she groaned, pushing herself upright and rubbing her head with the palm of her right hand. "How long have I been out?"
"About an hour,"he replied, pausing as he hovered over her. The light form the bedside lamp cast a shadow over half his face. The soft glow wrapped around the high curve of his cheekbone and blanched the earthy tones of his skin into paleness.
She had missed him. She wasn't sure why. But, in her hazy state of consciousness, she knew that much was true.
"Thank you,"she whispered, a practiced reluctance lacing her words.
"Ah, so you can say something nice?"he teased and she couldn't help but smile.
"Only when provoked,"she quipped, wrestling her body, until her legs hung over the side of the bed where she dangled them loosely, watching her toes rock in little circles over the carpet.
"So…"she began, though not quite sure how she would finish her sentence. As sobriety descended so did awkwardness. The dynamic between them had changed. What they were two days ago no longer existed. And they certainly weren't friends, of that she was sure. Unfortunately, she didn't know what that left between the two.
He preempted her by opening his closet, and pulling out yet another gleaming, white shirt. "Here - to sleep in,"he added, as though the gesture was not clear. Meeting his eye, she nodded. "I, um-"he cocked a thumb towards the bathroom and she watched him slip into it and turn on the light.
Emma peeled off her shirt, jeans and underwear. The relief of freeing her body from its entrapments was palpable. Her skin sighed at the freedom and she soothed her fingers over the little red marks where her jeans had dug into her flesh as she slept.
The shirt he had given her was clean and crisp and smelled like hotel laundry. She briefly wondered if he ever had to take care of himself - domestically, that is. In fact, where did he live? Did he have a place of his own, somewhere in another state?
Squeezing her eyes shut, she focused her mind. Sleep. She needed sleep. Then tomorrow she would try and fix things with her landlord. Daydreaming about a handsome stranger (who she scoffed was probably just trying to take advantage of her) was not helpful.
The soft whoosh water falling told her he had turned on the shower. The gentle rhythm was soothing and simple. Her mind wandered again.
As the water slapped and dripped, she saw him lathering his skin with the creamy bar of expensive soap, fingers slipping up and down the lean muscles of his arms and across his lightly hair covered chest. She bit her lip, remembering what it felt like pressed against her own. So good. So…safe.
Perhaps now he was running his fingers through his dark hair, pressing his forehead against the cool tiles of the wall, steam filling the space around him. Was he thinking of her? One hand on the tiles, was he reaching below to that growing hardness that she knew was never far away - was he touching himself and imagining her, in his bed - pretending it was her fingers, her lips - her, around him.
Emma's heart was racing. These thoughts were running wild. She couldn't stop them. Damn, she was sure it was the alcohol, or the nicotine…
Her eyes sank closed.
It was a nice distraction, after all.
A warm buzz descended. Imagining him. Imagining her.
She curled up her legs to her chest, her lips twisted in a silly smile.
It was nice to pretend, she remembered. It had been her favorite part about being a kid. It was okay then to live in a world where your rules applied and none could take that from you. As an adult, you were not afforded the same discretion. Letting your mind run wild was strictly an activity for the privacy of your private moments.
Lost in thought, she started when the bathroom door opened, and with it came a burst of moist, hot air.
She flipped over to face the door. He had a towel hung low around his hips and with another he was rubbing his damp hair. "Hi,"he said softly. A little smile on his lips.
Her stomach flipped as she took him in. Soft eyes. Damp skin. That muscular v leading to his groin - all kinds of tempting…
"You want-?"he gestured behind him. She shook her head, rolling to sit and pulling her knees to her chest.
As he went about the room, her eyes followed. He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of pale blue pajama pants. With his back to her, he dropped the towel and pulled them down. Glancing back at her as he pulled them over his ass.
Her cheeks burned. He knew she was watching.
Silently, he picked up the towel and returned it to the bathroom, flicking off the light and closing the door. "Goodnight,"he nodded, turning to leave.
"Killian-"
The words were out before she even knew they were rising.
His head swung around and his steely gaze met hers. Something dropped in her chest and throbbed in her throat. Sucking in a deep breath she let the words spill out, "It's a big bed. I can share."
The way he raised a brow made her smile. That cheeky way he had of looking at her sometimes made her want to laugh.
(Since when did he have a way at looking at her, she thought absentmindedly.)
"You sure?"
"Uh-huh,"she nodded. Though she wasn't really sure.
Not waiting for his response, she slid down under the covers, kicking them over her legs and turning over onto her side. The curtains were open and she had a familiar view of the night sky, lights stretching into the distance.
Soft footsteps, a slight groan as the bed shifted under his weight then a radiant glow of warmth.
Instantly calm descended. It felt wonderful having another body so near (his body, her mind whispered).
Willing sleep to fall, she took deep breaths and balled her fists under the fluffy pillow. It was too thick and her neck was twisting in an awkward angle that hurt her back. She tossed the pillow away and then lay on her bare arms.
She was acutely aware of him. The expensive mattress perfectly balanced the weight of the two, but she could still feel herself slipping in his direction.
"Mmm,"he mumbled, as his arm scraped against her thigh. His fingers left a warm trail on her skin.
Slowly, she rolled around to face him.
His eyes were closed, his damp hair slipping over his brow. His face was clear of expression, just dark lashes and brows punctuating clear skin.
"Killian,"she whispered, unsure if he was awake.
"Yes,"he replied, opening his eyes just a little.
"I'm cold,"she lied.
Silently, he bundled her in his arms and she was pressed against his chest and it felt good. Instantly her muscles began to loosen and she nestled against him.
Soft and gentle.
Fingers in her hair.
Damp kisses on her forehead.
She squirmed in pleasure.
One hand on her back, pressing her close. Lips finding her mouth. Eager, hungry kisses.
"Love…"
This is a dream, right?
Curving her body, chests pushed together. Arms around his neck.
A kiss on her shoulder, teeth biting. Her toes curled and eyes flashing open. Her leg wraps around his hip, drawing him closer.
Then a hand is under her shirt, sliding over her stomach, just grazing her breast and she wants to cry out-
"Milah-"he sighed.
And she froze and looked at him.
He was dreaming.
Heart pounding, she gently pushed him away, rolling him to the other side of the bed. "Go to sleep Killian,"she hushed, her fingers rubbing over the damp spot on her shoulder and her own sleep descending.
Or was it a dream all along?
She rose early, picking up her clothes and slipping them on in the bathroom. The decision to leave, again, had been made before she had even awoken.
"What are you doing, Emma?"
She had almost made it.
"Nothing,"she lied. Again. Turning around, she looked back at where he sat on the bed, sheets pooled around his waist, hair all mussed up and sexy in that way that only guys seemed to manage.
"Don't lie,"he sighed.
"Fine. I'm leaving,"she admitted.
"Why?"
She ran her tongue around the outline of her lips and sunk her hand onto her hip. Rubbing her toe against the carpet, she tried to think.
"I can take care of myself,"was her weary response.
"Clearly,"he muttered.
"Hey,"she spat, "I never asked you to come looking for me, to 'like'me, to try and rescue me-"
"Hey, hey, hey,"he retorted, sliding from the bed, his chest heaving, "I am not trying to 'rescue'you-"
"Coulda fooled me,"she quipped, bitter regret flooding her veins with every tumbling word, "I'm not some princess who needs a man to take care of her."
"You're a piece of work - you know that, Emma?"
Stony faced, she looked past him, folding her arms.
The walls were rising. She'd let them down for a little. And it had felt good.
But now they were back, and back with a vengeance.
"Have you ever considered that someone could actually like you? Be interested in you. As a person."
No, she thought. "You don't even know me," she muttered, shifting awkwardly on the spot, squirming under the spotlight of his gaze.
"At this point, love, I think I know you better than you know yourself."
"You're awfully confident for someone who called me by his exes name last night."
"What?"he cried, face twisted, "But that was a dream, it was-"
Pulling down the neckline of her shirt, she showed him the purpling bruise his lips had made on her skin. "Not a dream,"she replied.
Stepping closer, he reached for her arm, "I'm sorry-"
"It's fine,"she spat, tumbling backwards towards the door, "Just don't try and fix me when you are clearly still fucked up yourself."
Her words stung. His face crumpled a little and his eyes closed. She'd hit a nerve. For a second she faltered.
Bringing his hand to his face, he pulled it across his light beard before rubbing the back of his hand under his chin. "Aye, I suppose I am."
Emma backed out of the room as he stood silent. She started to turn as she passed the doorway.
"But you know what, Emma?"
"What, Killian?"she asked, in a bored tone.
"At least I'm not afraid of real intimacy."
Scowling, she stepped back into the room.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
The two stared at one another, eyes locked, chests rising in time.
"Sex? Is that what this is about?"
Killian shook his head, his eyes dimming until he turned away.
"It doesn't matter,"he sighed.
And she wanted to ask what he meant. She really wanted to know. But pride made her swallow the words and instead she slunk out of the room and tumbled into the darkness again.
Reviews are the food of my awkward muse (and immensely appreciated!)