From Bully To Beloved

I start the water and undress, tossing my clothes onto the floor. Scanning the bathroom, I can’t spot any towels. Two doors on the other side catch my eye, and I check each one.

To my delight, the first door leads to a small laundry room. I take a moment to appreciate the washer and dryer, a far cry from the beat-up ones in my building’s basement.

Slipping into the tub, the hot water is blissful. I lean back and release a content sigh.

Closing my eyes, attempting to relax becomes a challenge. Colton’s face immediately intrudes on my thoughts-those eyes, those lips, that infuriating smirk.

My blood simmers.

I know, I know. My grudge against him is from years ago, and I should let it go. I might have, if he hadn’t persistently started pushing my buttons. It’s like he wants to provoke annoyance.

Knock. Knock.

A sharp knock on the door disrupts my relaxation. Good grief, what does he want? Thankfully, the door is locked.

“What?” I call out.

“Food’s here. Do you want some?”

“No.” Why is he asking again? Annoying. I already told him I wasn’t hungry.Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Okay, I’ll put the rest in the fridge, in case you change your mind.”

The relaxed atmosphere vanishes. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. By now, the water is cold anyway. I pull myself out of the tub, too tired to contemplate anything further. The need for sleep overrides everything else.

I dry off with a fluffy towel, don my nightie, and wrap myself in a white robe. Holding my toothbrush, I go through my toiletry bag. Darn, I think I forgot my toothpaste. I borrow Colton’s-neatly placed next to the sink. After brushing my teeth, I run the towel over my hair, tossing it with my clothes before leaving the bathroom. Though exhausted, I briefly consider sketching. It’s been a few days, and my hands itch for charcoal.

That idea evaporates when I enter the bedroom. The bed looks inviting, and all I want is to crawl under the covers and pass out. As I prepare to do just that, I pull back the comforter, reaching down to untie my robe.

“Do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” he rumbles.

I nearly jump out of my skin at his voice. I hadn’t heard Colton approach. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” I snap, hand over my racing heart.

“I don’t remember you being so jumpy.”

I have a sharp reply on the tip of my tongue, but it vanishes when he takes off his shirt.

Gulp.

My mind goes blank.

All I can focus on is how ripped he is.

One hundred ninety pounds of pure muscle.

Beyond that, his collection of tattoos possesses its own beauty, and I can’t help but stare. Some are straightforward, like a flaming skull covering his right shoulder. On his left pec, a detailed human heart drips with blood right over his actual heart. On his left forearm, a motorcycle takes up the entire area. Yet, there are more abstract pieces, mostly tribal patterns and symbols, from what I can discern.

From an artist’s viewpoint, the work is stunning. I’ve never seen tattoos so detailed and beautiful. From a woman’s viewpoint, damn, he’s smoking hot. I catch myself and look away. Thank God he doesn’t notice.

He crosses to the other side of the bed, and only then do I find my voice again. “What are you doing?”

“Yeah, it’s still early, but I’m beat. I know it’s our wedding night, but sorry, honey. Not tonight.”

“That’s not what I mean,” I say. “Why are you climbing into bed?”

He pauses. “Are you serious right now?”

“We are not sleeping together.”

“I know, I told you I’m tired.”

“Stop trying to be cute. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

“Fine. There’s a perfectly good couch in the living room,” he says, undoing the button of his jeans, and I have to force myself not to watch the movement. “I’ve been on two connecting flights and haven’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours.”

Quickly, I climb into bed before he can. “Perfect. You can sleep there.”

He gives me an incredulous look. “Seriously, Sera?”

“Do I sound serious?” I ask, arching a brow.

Colton grumbles and grabs one of the pillows. “You’re always serious. Little serious Nosy Sera with that sourpuss look on her face.”

Hearing my old nickname brings my anger back full force. “Enjoy the couch and get the lights on your way out.” I purposefully lie in the middle of the bed, and yes, I still have my robe on. “Good night.”

“Oh, fuck it,” he rumbles. “Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m not going to argue with you right now,” he adds, a tightness to his voice I know means he’s annoyed. “But don’t get used to it. This isn’t over.”

On his way out of the room, he shuts the lights off and slams the door behind him.

Part of me feels bad. A very tiny part, mind you. I don’t mean to be difficult, but, come on. We don’t see each other for years, and he really thinks we’re going to share a bed? There’s nothing in the terms of this agreement that says we have to sleep together.

The bed is so soft, and by the time I take off my robe and pull the covers up, I’m already closing my eyes. It never takes me long to fall asleep, especially after such a grueling workday. Goodness, is this a memory foam mattress? It feels absolutely perfect.

I’m in that wonderful moment between sleeping and awake when I hear the door open and feel Colton’s hand on my shoulder. The light’s still off, yet I can see his silhouette in the dark.

“Huh…wh-?” I mumble.

“Move over.”

“Uh, no.”

“Seraphine, the couch is too damn small for me. Just move over so I can lie down.”

I roll over and put the pillow over my head. “We went over this,” I argue, the pillow muffling my voice. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

“You sleep on the couch then. You’ll fit.”

I’m so fucking tired, and I’m a thousand percent done with dealing with him. Pulling the pillow off, I sit up. “Fine. Whatever.”

I roll out of bed, grabbing my robe and pillow, and closing the door behind me. In the living room, there’s a thick blanket laid out on the cream-colored couch already, and I collapse onto it. And barely even bounce. The couch cushions are hard. Like, hardly ever been sat on before kind of hard. The pillows are thin. It’s annoying, but I’ve slept on worse. Bundling myself up in the blanket, I settle down and close my eyes.

But the blissful sleep I was slipping into before doesn’t come. I miss the memory foam. I miss the down comforter. The longer I lie there, the more I realize how bad this couch is. I’ve slept on my fair share of couches and floors. This is how I know there is no way I’ll be able to make it through the night. This couch is in a whole category of its own. It’s horrible. It takes nearly thirty minutes of tossing and turning before I concede.

Colton is right.

I lie there with a huff, thinking about my options, of which there’s only one. Would it be so bad to share a bed?

I’m so tired by this point, I don’t even care. Grumbling, I get up and shuffle back to the bedroom. Quietly, I turn the knob and peek in. It’s dark, but I can see that Colton isn’t taking up the whole bed as I had. He’s lying facing away from the doorway, so I’m not sure if he’s still awake. The comforter is draped over his hips, and all I can see is the smooth expanse of his tattooed back.

Quietly, I tiptoe to the bed and slowly climb in. Now that I’m close, I realize the tattoo is a gorgeous pair of black wings on his shoulder blades.

I’m just settling down when I hear, “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“That couch sucks.”

“Told you.”

“You stay on your side, buddy. I mean it. Don’t test me. Especially if you want to keep all your intestines.”

“You’re a dirty girl thinking about my intestines.”

“You’re so gross.”

“You’re the one talking about my body parts. Get your mind out of the gutter. Hadn’t even crossed my mind to move closer.” There is sleepiness to his voice.

I turn my back to him. “Smartass.”

Ahhh, the memory foam and comforter once more. Excellent. Carefully, I slip out of my robe and snuggle under the covers. Surrounded by comfort once more, I close my eyes, and this time, sleep comes swiftly.