Ball and Chain
Being chained to somebody was more inconvenient than Hayden realized.
Getting out of the Jeep at the two-story house was bad enough. He tried to be a gentleman; he let Bethany exit the passenger side and climbed across the gearshift to do the same. Then there was the blonde's facial expression when she realized he was a renter... A renter who only had the bottom floor of a modest building, which he crammed with second-hand furniture. He wasn't used to spending time with snobs, but here he was, literally attached to one, and it was all he could do to keep his mouth shut.
Later, when she announced her desire for a shower, it got worse. With several feet of chain between them, Hayden had to outstretch his arm and stand in the doorway. The door of his shower stall was made of distortion-glass, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw flesh-colored woman twisting and turning. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them. "How you plan to get dressed, I don't know," he said over the water. "Unless your outfit doesn't require you to stick your arm through it. Which leaves what... a tube top?" Actually, that kind-of cracked him up. The only alternative was a blouse that buttoned at the shoulders, 1980s style. He supposed she could stick her arm through, but that ate up precious links of chain, and they might end up touching.
And this is just the first hurdle. Wait 'til sleeping arrangements.
"I'll figure something out," Bethany called out above the sound of running water, using her free hand to soap as much of herself as was possible. There was no way she was going without a shower just because she happened to be attached to Hayden by a chain that had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere. She ducked beneath the spray of the shower to catch the shampoo in her hair, feeling so much better for having clean hair.
She finished showering and reached out to switch the water off, reaching out for a towel that she placed in a convenient spot for easy reach. Bethany eased it around herself, securing it around her chest before stepping out of the shower itself. Bethany was still dripping wet and she was well aware of the need to dry off, meaning she would eventually have to stand all but naked in front of a total stranger, but she wasn't exactly shy so the idea wasn't as offputting as it should be.
Hayden considered her a snob and she thought of him as an unrefined oath, one that could do with changing his wardrobe up.
Bethany's fingers combed the long lengths of blonde hair over one shoulder and she turned to look at Hayden. "I got undressed, didn't I? I'll figure out a way to get dressed." Even if it meant giving her clothes a scissor or knife overhaul.
Yeah, well, maybe you're better at taking them off. Out loud, Hayden just said, "Uh huh," and side-stepped around her. He had decided to take a shower after all. Part of his reasoning was because he didn't want to go through this routine with Bethany twice. The other was that he felt vengeful, like she should have to stand there with her arm outstretched, too. He went into his shaving kit and got out the tiny scissors. It took some doing, but he started a good-sized rip in the t-shirt and did the rest with his hands. At least his jeans weren't a problem.
"Hope you're not in a hurry." He reached into the shower and cut the water back on. Then he shelled out of his pant legs and took off his socks. Unlike Miss Designer Pantsuit, he did have an ounce of modesty. Not really when he was with a girl he liked, but a stranger? Yeah. Especially one that was likely to judge him for not waxing his chest like a stripper. Y'know what? Screw it. Unwilling to give her the satisfaction of getting in the stall to take off his boxers, he shucked them off and climbed in like a normal person.
Perhaps Hayden had been hoping to shock or revolt, but Bethany just stood and openly stared. Hell, her eyes even did a brief detour south before her eyebrow lifted and her eyes slid away, lips quirking in the corner. What? Nothing wrong with looking. Nothing wrong with it at all. She shifted the way the towel was sat around her and decided that whilst Hayden was showering she might as well use the time to get dry.
Bethany's arm went up as Hayden got into the shower and she made a small sound as the metal scraped at skin before she merely bit down on her lower lip and went to work on stripping the towel off - exposing all of her - to start drying herself off.
She might as well make good use of the time.
Thank god she's a pain in the ass, he thought, leaning back to get his hair wet. Otherwise, this could get awkward. Because yeah, he was a guy and she was obviously a looker. Well, if her attitude hadn't taken care of it, the complete lack of hot water would've. He poured shampoo in his palm and began to lather his hair. "So what do you do, anyway?" He saw her moving around out there and wondered if he had anything embarrassing in his medicine cabinet. "I already told you I run a bar." The water flushed the suds from his hair and over his face. He closed his eyes.
Bethany's lips pulled into a scowl, as in this life her job wasn't exciting nor did it inspire fear or demand respect. She would definitely need to remedy that as soon as she could. "I actually work in a bar," she explained with a lift of a shoulder. "I manage one that is." She pulled on the black lace that passed for her underwear and proceeded to rummage through Hayden's medicine cabinet half naked and apparently unashamed of that fact.
She was nosy and the medicine cabinet was there so why not look?
Bethany's fingertips skirted over toothpaste, floss (huh, colour her surprised), a razor, couple q-tips and then she gave a smirk as she picked up and regarded a familiar looking foil packet. She closed the cabinet and turned the packet over in her hand, eyes searching for the expiry dates. Wow, this condom had reached and gone right past it more than a couple months ago. Maybe Hayden was experiencing a dry spell?
"Oh yeah, what's it called?" Hayden shook the bottle of conditioner and squeezed it into his hand. For a man who didn't give a crap about his wardrobe, he shelled out money on his hair care products. He worked it through the ends. In the middle of that, he heard the rusty squeak of his medicine cabinet door and wiped a fist-sized space clean on the stall door. A slightly warbled version of the blonde came into view and he realized what she was studying. "Hey, would you get out of there?!" Ah, god. How long had that been in there? Why, why couldn't she have dug through his bedroom night stand? That's where the new ones were. Not that an unopened box of condoms painted a better picture. Fuck my life.
Slightly warbled or not, Bethany was still half naked and unbothered by this fact. She glanced up at Hayden through the haze of steam and condensation, rolling her eyes at his remark. "You should probably think about getting rid of this." She glanced at the packet again before tossing it in the direction of the trashcan, managing to sink it in one. "Wouldn't want to use it and get some unfortunate woman pregnant now would you?"
She gave him a smirk and lifted a towel to her hair, rubbing at it to keep water from escaping down her back. "Speaking of... women, I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and guess you don't have a girlfriend, but better to be on the safe side because I can't imagine that this-" She lifted the hand with the chain attached to it. "Would be that easy to explain."
"No. I don't." Hayden finished his hair and soaped up. As long as he had a mouthy blonde chained to his arm, he wouldn't make any headway in that department. Granted, he hadn't made any concerted effort recently, but it would be the wrong time to run into the right woman. "Before you ask, I don't have any family down here, either, so the only problem's gonna be work, and possibly my neighbors." The lukewarm water rinsed the suds off him, but he stood under the spray a minute longer. Could be worse. She could be another guy. How would that look? Yeah, buddy, it could be a lot worse.
He shut off the water and opened the door. "Could you hand me a towel, since you hijacked mine?" Christ, it was on her hair. Was she some kind of exhibitionist? The water rolled off his hair in drops. Plink, plink.
"Noted," Bethany muttered as she rose to her feet and crossed over to where a towel was hanging up. It didn't look particularly big, but it was going to have to do. She turned around and offered the towel to Hayden as she tugged the other off her hair, beginning to wrap her half naked form with it again. "I can call in sick for a couple days." Wouldn't be too much of an issue considering the guy who owned the bar where she worked seemed scared of her now.
Just how she liked it.
Hayden made do with the towel and wrapped it around his waist. It met on his hip (barely). Pinching the ends together, he climbed out of the stall and reached into the medicine cabinet to use his deodorant. "I guess I could, too. I dunno, my partner kind-of sucks at his job, but he owes me. I cover for him a lot." He put the stick on the shelf and ran a comb through his hair. "You know what? If I tell him I'm attached to a good-looking blonde, he's more likely to volunteer. That's like speaking his language or something."
A pile of fresh clothes waited on the toilet tank. Hayden put on his boxers and a pair of pants he wore to bed. At least he didn't need to bother with a shirt.
Did he just call her good-looking? Bethany allowed herself a smirk at this point.
"You should give it a shot," she said with a lift of her shoulders. Bethany may or may not have given Hayden a weird look when he took a brush to his hair, fancy that? She never would have figured that. She'd probably end up sleeping topless or with some butcherised version of a t-shirt at this rate given that there was no way she was getting a top on over the chain and well, Hayden.
She leaned back against the nearby wall. "Nothing wrong with a little motivation."
He saw her face in the mirror. Dropping the comb, Hayden turned and gave her an incredulous look. "I saw that. You think I'm a complete neanderthal, don't you?" He didn't know how to take that. Just because of a little facial hair and worn-in clothes, she assumed what... he didn't practice personal hygiene? He folded his arms across his chest. "Believe it or not, some people like men who look a little rough around the edges."
"And where are these women?" Bethany countered. "I mean, your condom in the bin over there isn't exactly screaming good sex life, now is it?" She arched an eyebrow at him, wondering what reaction that would cause. "Unless you're holding out for the right woman?"
Bethany was vocal about her thoughts and had never shied away from being blunt honest.
Hayden's mouth hung open. "You think I don't get numbers pushed at me? I work in a bar. But I do have standards." Or principles, whatever kept a guy who had his share of dates from sticking his dick in every beautiful woman that was willing. It was a nice thought and alright for fantasies, but when it came down to it, he wasn't the type. "And listen, when a woman does come to my place," he pointed a thumb at his chest, "I never hear any complaints." Well, at least not about the sex. The rest of the apartment was another story.
"Wait, why am I defending myself? I don't see a ring on your finger." He shook his head and tossed the towel in the hamper. Then he started down the hall toward the bedroom, forgetting she was attached.
Bethany simply sat back as Hayden ranted about his so-called sex life, folding her arms across her chest as she did so. "You ever heard of 'faking it'? Women do that, lots of women." Why she felt the need to poke at Hayden over this subject was beyond her. She was bored and he was there, attached to her.
She distinctly growled when he stalked off and took her with him, chain tightening and steps being staggered as she was pulled some distance. "Why does a woman need to have a ring on her finger to mean she has somebody? It's modern day, Hayden. A woman can enjoy sex as much if not more than any man. And I do." Even if she hadn't met anybody that had piqued her interest, what she wouldn't give to have Darian around.
Love was harder to get over than you might think, even for Bethany Richards.
Hell, sometimes, just sometimes, she caught her palm on her stomach.
Hayden rounded the corner into his bedroom and sighed. "That's not what I meant." At the bed, he began pulling half the pillows off the mattress and tossing them on the floor. "I don't have a problem with women getting out and enjoying sex. That would be kind-of self-defeating. I do have a problem with somebody spouting women's lib right after saying women fake orgasm all the time. If you're so liberated, why the," he took a break to tug open his closet doors, "Faking?" Hayden pulled extra sheets and a blanket off the top shelf. "You ought to tell him what you want. Or better yet, take it, not just lay there unsatisfied, and go back to your friends later, saying how some poor bastard was bad in the sack."
He made a pallet on the floor. When he was done, Hayden pushed back his damp hair and surveyed it.
"Did I say I fake it?" Bethany retorted. "I said women fake it, not me personally." It would be kind of hard to fake it when you were used to getting some of the best sex going. "And trust me, if a man wasn't doing it right? I'd be sure to tell him and then show him how it's done." And she would, no qualms about it.
She unconsciously touched her stomach before catching herself, dropping it a second later.
"Do I seem like the sort of woman to just lie there and take having bad sex?"
He assessed her. "Not really. But don't assume that just because a guy's not..," he hesitated over the wording, "Slinging it in every direction, he's bad at it. I'd bet money some of the guys who screw around the most are the worst at it." Where did he get that opinion? Just from listening to how his friends talked; the ones who bragged the loudest often sounded clueless.
Hayden had seen the hand thing, but didn't know what it meant. "You alright?" He cut on a bedside lamp and killed the overhead light. He peeled back the covers on the pallet and sat down.
"Fine," Bethany answered shortly. Angry at herself for still feeling the loss of something she'd never intended on having, ever. God knows the bump had swelled and ruined her tattoo, not that she had cared at the time. God...
Bethany smoothed a hand through her hair and perched on the edge of the bed. "Guess this is goodnight then."
Hayden draped his arms over his knees. "Yeah, I guess so." It felt weird to downshift from a heated conversation about their sex lives (or lack thereof) to laying down and passing out, but what else where they gonna do? Hang out? Have a slumber party? "Just uh... do me a favor. If you need to get up in the middle of the night, don't rip my arm off. You're stronger than you look." He had noticed it earlier, in the Jeep. She must work out.
Bethany laid back and proceeded to stare at the ceiling, wondering if she'd get any sleep given that she was in new surroundings and had somebody attached to her. She wasn't the most restful of sleepers, especially these days.
"I'll... remember that," she shared after a moment of silence. "And try not to do that."
It was as close to an agreement as Hayden was ever going to get.