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Piper
My feetand back are killing me by the time I get home at almost 3am. The only thing on my mind is finding something to fill my stomach so that I can fall into bed and, if I’m lucky, sleep for a couple weeks at least. Closing up is always the hardest shift, especially when lazy ass Betty hasn’t done any of the cleaning she’s supposed to do throughout the day. I swear that woman is about as useless as a pet rock.
With a heavy, tired sigh I shuffle through the house, throwing my coat on the couch and leaving my purse and keys on the kitchen table. I go to the fridge and stand there for several minutes just staring at the neatly arranged rows of food. I don’t see anything I want, not a single damn thing. I don’t have the energy to bother cooking, either. I’m too tired to do anything except find the simplest, easiest thing to eat and then head up stairs to bed. After getting nowhere with the fridge, I pull open the freezer. Ah, yes. A smirk lifts up the edge of my lips as I reach in and take out a single serve tub of ice cream.
“Dinner of champions,” I mutter, retrieving a spoon and heading back into the living room. Flopping down on the couch, I use my coat as a blanket and dig into the mini carton of double chocolate chip. Browsing the trash that’s on TV at this hour beats staring at the wall, but my choices are pretty limited; infomercials or reruns of I Love Lucy. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this episode, but I’d rather watch it again than suffer through some loud, obnoxious salesman trying to pitch a new style of bra.
I only watch an episode and a half, sitting up just long enough to finish off the ice cream before heading back to the kitchen to clean up. All the while I’m thinking how badly I wish I could have the nice life that’s depicted in shows like that. A good man who takes care of me, who loves me no matter what and does his best to make me happy. Close friends to laugh with and share good times with. I could do without the crazy shenanigans, but the rest of it I want so badly I can almost taste it.
Immediately my thoughts turn to Matthew and I suddenly remember that he’s upstairs. This fact should make me uneasy, but the truth is, I wish I could go climb into bed with him right now. I can just imagine the feel of his arms wrapping around me, tight and secure…
Stepping away from the sink I shake my head, trying to clear away these pointless thoughts. I start upstairs, knowing I’ll feel better in the morning after a good night’s sleep. I still don’t know why Matthew pushed me away. I don’t know what I was expecting…
I really thought our time together meant something. At this rate, he’ll probably end up with some girl like Betty, and I’ll have to watch him drift away.
For some reason thinking about Matthew ending up with Betty makes me feel even worse, even though I have no right to be. We had one little fling. What he chooses to do now is none of my business…
Only, I can’t help but wish he’d make me his business.
I pause for a moment at the top of the stairs, eyes fixed on his door. He’s sleeping just on the other side of it, and that fact was putting all kinds of crazy, tempting thoughts in my head. I wonder if he sleeps naked? I want so bad to creep inside and find out, to just slip under the blankets and run my hands down his strong, muscular body. Maybe if I climb into bed with him, he’ll change his mind? I want him to fuck me the way he did that night at George’s. The urge is so strong that I take a step toward the door, almost convincing myself that all he needs is a little incentive.
The sound of Matthew’s deep voice coming through the door makes me jump, shattering my little fantasy. Who is he talking to? I should get out of the hallway and into my own room, but my curiosity takes over and I move a little closer to the door. It occurs to me that he might have a girl in there with him and my heart sinks. For some reason the idea of finding him with another woman cuts me to the core.
I’m about to turn away when I hear him shout. It’s not a cry of pleasure or excitement, this scream is almost a sob, filled with agony and pain. Concerned, I creep closer to the door, leaning over so I can press my ear against the wood. All is silent for just a moment, but then I hear him speaking again.
“Don’t hurt her, please!” He’s pleading, his voice wracked with despair.
I put my hand on the doorknob, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s having a nightmare. Is he remembering something that happened while he was a prisoner? It doesn’t matter, I’m filled with compassion, wanting nothing more than to go inside and comfort him. Nothing else between us matters, I just can’t let him suffer alone.
I start to turn the handle, but then I hear him gasp my name. It’s almost as though he’s calling out to me. He cries out again, but before I can fling open the door, I hear him panting and cursing.
He’s awake!
He sounds upset now, and the last thing I want to do is get into another fight with him. My resolve at trying to comfort him begins to dissipate as I hover near the door for a moment, conflicted with what to do. When I hear him getting out of bed, I make a quiet dash to my room before I can even stop myself.
I duck inside and am just sealing myself in when his door creaks open and I hear him pad to the bathroom. A relieved sigh escapes me. As much as I wish I could help him, so long as he’s put a wedge between us, it’s best if I keep my distance.
Now that the excitement is over and I’m in the confines of my room, the exhaustion returns stronger than before. I tiptoe toward the bed, pulling off my work clothes and tossing them at the hamper without caring at all if they make it or not. I drag out the old t-shirt that I normally sleep in from under my pillow and slip it over my head, the fabric cool against my bare skin, causing me to shiver.
Safe within the confines of my sheets, I can’t help but reflect over what just happened, despite my desire for sleep. Who was Matthew dreaming about? Who was in danger? I don’t understand any of this. I can’t imagine what terrible things he’s been through, but I really wish he hadn’t pushed me away. Doesn’t he understand that I only want to help? Even if we’re just friends, I’d still offer my support.
The truth is, being cut out of his life is almost as bad as losing him in the first place…
