Vivian #2
We stepped into our room at the inn and I headed straight to the bathroom.
The public restroom situation in Drifael was non-existent and I had to go.
Our final stop—telling Ida’s friend that she wasn’t dead—had taken some time, understandably.
I didn’t know the Trebianna customs of asking to use their restroom, so I had grimaced my way through the conversation.
I could only hope my expression read as empathy.
My physical state turned dire on the walk back.
Not to mention, I just really wanted to wash the muddy, chaotic day away.
When I was first zapped to my field, I didn’t think I’d have a hot shower ever again.
This one was ground-temperature-warm at best, but it was a shower.
And that was pretty rad. I closed my eyes and let the fresh, slightly warm water soothe my tired bones.
Clean at last. Running a towel through my hair, I grabbed for the dress we’d left to air-dry in the window last night.
Fuck.
It was wet.
Of course it’s wet. We’d left it by the damn open window during a storm. My eyes followed the water to the floor, where a puddle blended into the mottled tiles. Our “fresh” clothes weren’t just damp… they were fucking soaked.
“Theo!” I poked my head past the door, craning my neck to find him standing by the bow window, his rain-drenched shirt transparent and clinging to every muscle of his back. I was surprised to find the extra set of shoulders and arms so… appealing? Strong. Masculine. Godlike.
“Everything ok?” he asked, turning to face me.
“My dress is sopping wet,” I explained. “The rain came through the window.”
He cringed and scratched his head. “Shit. Do you have another change of clothes?”
“No. I left my third dress with Ida to dye.” Ida was on a mission to provide me a wardrobe with variety.
“I’m so sorry, Viv.” Even though the door was technically between us, his eyes averted to the floor respectfully.
“So… what are our options?” The idea of getting into bed in wet clothing made me nauseous, but if it was that or be completely naked, I’d choose the coverage.
“I only have one dry outfit left, but it’s all yours.”
I frowned as I watched his pecs rise and fall under the thin cotton of his t-shirt. His nipples were hard. His muscles seemed tense. He must be freezing just like me.
I blew air into my cheeks, wishing there was a way to split an outfit in two. Well… there kind of was. And it wouldn’t be that different from the night before when I’d been in a dress and he’d been in his slutty little tank top.
“What if I took your shirt, and you wore your pants?” I suggested before I could stop myself. There was no room for embarrassment. We needed solutions.
“Is that something you’d be comfortable with?”
“I’m sure your shirt will be a dress on me. It’ll do in a pinch.”
“Alright. If that’s what you’d like. Good thinking.”
Theo’s shirt was a modest-enough length on me; it would’ve passed high school dress code. The problem was I hadn’t realized the additional holes cut into the back for his lower arms would fall against my ribs, revealing a decent amount of side boob and chub.
Oh well. It was better than nothing.
I wrung my underwear out over the sink and scowled. I really didn’t want to put those back on. It felt like asking for a yeast infection. Surely, I could do without? I’d just sleep very… very still, so nothing could ride up.
Fine. Side boob and no panties it is.
Theo didn’t look at me when we passed each other from bed to bathroom.
His gray flannel pants were tossed over his shoulder.
I forced out a cheery “problem solved” and tried not to think about how I hadn’t shaved my legs once since getting the zap to this planet.
This was one of the more humbling moments of my life, and that was saying something.
Crawling into bed, I closed my eyes and tried to settle.
“Rrrrraaaawwwwwwrrrrr,” my stomach groaned.
Nooooooooooo!
I wanted to stay under the covers—warm, dry, hairiness concealed—but I was fucking hungry, despite the fact that we’d eaten not long ago. Life was determined to deny me the comfort of this damn bed.
I’d sleep well tonight if it killed me, so it was time to dig some food out of our bag. My berries were filling; a handful should do the trick. Then I’d be back in bed before Theo was out of the shower, and finally get some quality rest.
I rolled out from under the blankets and stepped over to our travel bag. Kneeling beside it, I started undoing the top set of buckles. One… two…
What the fuck?!
Genuinely startled, I fell back onto my ass and scrambled away from the bag, hitting my head on the wooden bedpost in my retreat. I hissed in pain, clutching my skull and gritting my teeth.
“Viv?!” Theo called. “Viv, you okay?!”
I didn’t respond, not quite sure what to say considering what I found.
“Vivian?!” The bathroom door was thrown open, and all my panic was forgotten, exchanged with a new reason for my heart to beat faster.
Theo. My god. Theo.
All four of his arms braced on the wooden doorframe, flexing.
Ready to jump into action. The lines from his biceps to his pecks were distinct, defining his rounded shoulders.
His body had soft edges, wrapped around strong bulk.
The muscles lining his sides and the tops of his hips were thick.
Of course they were. They had to support his massive upper body.
The same upper body that was currently tense and imposing in the dimly lit doorway.
His flannel pants—his gray flannel pants—hung low.
Those inky tattoos took on a new pattern above his groin, but I didn’t want to stare too long to investigate.
Instead, my eyes flickered around, wide and blinking unnaturally.
He looked at the open bag and let out an exhale. “Fuck, you scared me. I thought something happened. They’re charms. To deter the night beasts.”
“They’re jars with an inch of blood in them.” And I was understating the amount of gore. What Ida had at her home were “charms”, with reasonable drizzles of dried burgundy subtly crusting an herb. These were vampire shot glasses.
“What can I say? I’m thorough.” He stepped to the bag and flipped the top closed, then made his way to the bed, taking a seat on my right. “I thought you might like to have some on hand.”
I blinked. They were for me? My gut twisted. Where had he gotten so much blood today?
“Is that what you were doing when you went off on your own?” It was the only time I could think he would’ve been able to make them. I’d just introduced him to their existence yesterday.
“No, I made them last night.” He held his hand up to show me a stitched up, swollen gash across his palm. How had I not noticed that?
“Oh.” I dragged myself the short distance across the wooden floor to his feet, taking his hand in mine. It was warm. Textured. Massive. “Theo, you didn’t have to do that. I was doing fine without them. My field doesn’t let anything inside that wants to kill me. You know this.”
“You should have the option to leave your field safely at night if you need to,” he responded gently.
I tilted my chin to look at him, finding his deep brown eyes gazing down. They were practically black… or maybe his pupils were dilated in the low light. It felt so intense, knelt between his open thighs and pinned by his stare. Heat filled my core, but I tried to focus on what was important.
Maintaining our gaze, I pressed our palms together.
I swear I could feel his pulse racing against my fingertips, but that might’ve just been my own heartbeat.
When the tingling of healing died down, I peeled our hands apart to take a look.
The wound was mostly gone, sparing a thick pink line and leftover stitches.
“Sorry, I’ll see if I can remove the scar too. Before it becomes permanent.” I moved to reconnect our palms.
“Don’t.” He lifted his hand to his mouth and ripped out the suture thread using his teeth. “I’d like to keep this one.”
My lips parted to ask why, but I felt like it wasn’t something for me to pry about. That’s at least what I told myself, as his near-black eyes gazed at me in a way nobody had before. Why did he look at me so… so… I don’t even know.
He cleared his throat. “Get up on the bed, I want to talk to you about something.” His eyes blinked and suddenly looked brown again.
I got up as carefully as I could to avoid flashing my companion. My friend. These were definitely friendship feelings I was having. In my heart. In my stomach. Lower.
I wasn’t hungry for blackberries anymore.
He shuffled to the other half of the bed to make room for me, leaning on his side with two elbows supporting his upper body in a recline.
I instinctively crossed my legs before realizing how indecent that was given my lack of underwear. My fists balled between my thighs, pushing the cotton shirt down to cover my otherwise exposed bits.
His eyes seemed dark again before he blinked… then they were their usual walnut brown. Was I going crazy?
He cleared his throat. “Ida… she likes Drifael? And she’s been struggling with her cabin?” The statements were said as questions, as if we hadn’t discussed those very things multiple times today.