Preview: Untitled
I'm coming up with ideas faster than I can write the story I'm on now. Which is going to be pretty long. I'm already over 9,000 words and still have a good amount to write. But this is a look into the story i'll be writing after that one. Just a rough draft, nothing special and it might change but I thought I would give you all a little taste.
Rachel lifts his heavy arm off from around her shoulder and nudges his hip with her own until he fully loses his already unsteady balance and softly falls onto his bed.
He laughs and she furrows her brows. She’s not in the mood for this.
“Take your shoes off, Jared.” She orders.
“You take your shoes off.” He slurs and she rolls her eyes and she moves to the top of the bed and pulls down the covers. The end goal is to get him beneath the sheets with at least his slim fitting black leather jacket and boots off. But she’s willing to forego all of it and leave right now.
“Fine. Sleep with your shoes on, I don’t care.”
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“That’s too damn bad. You’re drunk as hell and you need to sleep this shit off.”
“Stop telling me what to do.” He whines as he sits up and she stops fooling with the covers. He twists his spine and looks at her. She can see his eyes piercing through the darkened room and she shifts on her feet, dully aware of the ache on them, the left worse than the right for some reason. “It’s my birthday. Shouldn’t we do what I want to do?”
“We did do what you wanted to do. We went out. You got drunk. This is the aftermath of that. Plus it’s after midnight; it’s not your birthday anymore.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Birthdays end Jared.” She mumbles as she eyes his jacket. It’s unzipped. There’s a chance she could get it off of him without touching him for too long. She would like to limit any prolonged contact with him, especially while he’s drunk and the room is dark and his face has a day’s worth of scruff on it and his hair looks this way. The ever present odds are constantly against her.
But as she’s analyzing him and the way that he looks he stretches out across the bed vertically. His slim frame and lanky arms allow his fingertips to graze against her bare skin of her thigh and she silently curses herself for not wearing a longer dress.
“Come on, Rach.” He looks up at her through half hooded bedroom eyes and she suppresses a sigh. “It’s my birthday.” He says suggestively and she pushes his hand away and her heels click against the hardwood floor as she strides back down to the foot of the bed and grabs one of his ankles and begins to tug at the laces. The boots are coming off.
But he intercepts her and takes her hand, the boot falls back down to the floor and his fingertips circle the gold band on her left hand before engulfing the whole thing. Her hand practically disappears in his. His other hand smoothes over the back of her dress, resting at the base of her spine and pulling her closer as she fights back.
“Jared.” She says sternly, she’s loosing willpower rapidly and her voice is the only part of her body she still has control over. “Can you just please go to bed.”
“Not without you.” He says softly and her free hand rests on his shoulder. That jacket is not coming off in her presence.
“I can’t stay.”
“Why not? He’s out of town. He’s never going to find out. He never does.”
She shakes her head and drops the hand off his shoulder. She doesn’t like when he talks about him. He’s supposed to be his friend.
“Jared, I’m married.”
Like that’s supposed to mean anything. Like he doesn’t already know. He was the best man at her wedding. He held the rings. He passed them to her husband.
“So what? You and I both know that ring comes off.”
It’s almost shocking how much she hates the two of them in that moment. It’s unhealthy. She used to be a good person, a loving wife and he…he could not have always been like this. She has to believe he’s better than this. But the reality of the situation is cruel and truthful to the point of being painful. There’s no other way to say or explain what they have become.
Rachel is a cheater and Jared is the other man.
Rachel lifts his heavy arm off from around her shoulder and nudges his hip with her own until he fully loses his already unsteady balance and softly falls onto his bed.
He laughs and she furrows her brows. She’s not in the mood for this.
“Take your shoes off, Jared.” She orders.
“You take your shoes off.” He slurs and she rolls her eyes and she moves to the top of the bed and pulls down the covers. The end goal is to get him beneath the sheets with at least his slim fitting black leather jacket and boots off. But she’s willing to forego all of it and leave right now.
“Fine. Sleep with your shoes on, I don’t care.”
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“That’s too damn bad. You’re drunk as hell and you need to sleep this shit off.”
“Stop telling me what to do.” He whines as he sits up and she stops fooling with the covers. He twists his spine and looks at her. She can see his eyes piercing through the darkened room and she shifts on her feet, dully aware of the ache on them, the left worse than the right for some reason. “It’s my birthday. Shouldn’t we do what I want to do?”
“We did do what you wanted to do. We went out. You got drunk. This is the aftermath of that. Plus it’s after midnight; it’s not your birthday anymore.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Birthdays end Jared.” She mumbles as she eyes his jacket. It’s unzipped. There’s a chance she could get it off of him without touching him for too long. She would like to limit any prolonged contact with him, especially while he’s drunk and the room is dark and his face has a day’s worth of scruff on it and his hair looks this way. The ever present odds are constantly against her.
But as she’s analyzing him and the way that he looks he stretches out across the bed vertically. His slim frame and lanky arms allow his fingertips to graze against her bare skin of her thigh and she silently curses herself for not wearing a longer dress.
“Come on, Rach.” He looks up at her through half hooded bedroom eyes and she suppresses a sigh. “It’s my birthday.” He says suggestively and she pushes his hand away and her heels click against the hardwood floor as she strides back down to the foot of the bed and grabs one of his ankles and begins to tug at the laces. The boots are coming off.
But he intercepts her and takes her hand, the boot falls back down to the floor and his fingertips circle the gold band on her left hand before engulfing the whole thing. Her hand practically disappears in his. His other hand smoothes over the back of her dress, resting at the base of her spine and pulling her closer as she fights back.
“Jared.” She says sternly, she’s loosing willpower rapidly and her voice is the only part of her body she still has control over. “Can you just please go to bed.”
“Not without you.” He says softly and her free hand rests on his shoulder. That jacket is not coming off in her presence.
“I can’t stay.”
“Why not? He’s out of town. He’s never going to find out. He never does.”
She shakes her head and drops the hand off his shoulder. She doesn’t like when he talks about him. He’s supposed to be his friend.
“Jared, I’m married.”
Like that’s supposed to mean anything. Like he doesn’t already know. He was the best man at her wedding. He held the rings. He passed them to her husband.
“So what? You and I both know that ring comes off.”
It’s almost shocking how much she hates the two of them in that moment. It’s unhealthy. She used to be a good person, a loving wife and he…he could not have always been like this. She has to believe he’s better than this. But the reality of the situation is cruel and truthful to the point of being painful. There’s no other way to say or explain what they have become.
Rachel is a cheater and Jared is the other man.