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What Really Happened…
An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle
“Sir, that will be…Sir?” came the unsure response after a few seconds, which was promptly followed by a, “Oh, God! This is the wrong house! Please, don’t hurt me! It was a mistake!”
Marybeth had absolutely no idea what the delivery guy said or did after that to save his ass, because she had other things to worry about, like saving her own. Her cheeks burned even as her body felt numb, which she absently thought was odd, but at the moment she didn’t feel like sitting down with a cup of tea and contemplating those thoughts.
No, right now she was too busy shoving her legs into what she was assuming was her pants, but soon realized were Darrin’s shirt before saying the hell with it, throwing it on and thanking God the bastard was tall enough that his shirt fell past her knees. For about twenty seconds she stood there, wasting precious time, trying to figure out what just happened while her legs trembled and she licked her lips.
She should tear off his shirt, lay back down on the couch and spread her legs in welcome, but now that the moment had been broken and Darrin was currently making a grown man cry, she decided that it was time to retreat, hide, pretend that this never happened and hope for the best.
With that solid plan in mind, she dropped the rest of the clothing items that she’d been hugging against her chest, turned and ran. She didn’t care the she pretty much ran face first into a wall, or that it had hurt like hell, she’d tripped, landed on her knee, bruised it along with her hands or even the fact that she tripped on the stairs, got a good case of rug burn on her hands, arms and knees. The only thing that she cared about was getting into her room, slamming the door shut behind her and pretending that none of this had ever happened and if Darrin was really her best friend, then he would also pretend like none of this had ever happened.
She heard some whimpering, a board breaking, some sobbing, but since it had nothing to do with her impending doom, she ignored it and continued towards her door. The second, the very second, that she was inside her room, the door was shut, locked and she was rushing across the room, deciding that the best way to pretend that none of this had happened was to jump in the bathtub, relax and pretend that she’d just spent the entire night there.
It was a solid plan.
It was an excellent plan and one that she knew any Bradford would fully support. She just hoped that this particular Bradford would figure out that she’d decided to pretend that nothing happened like the coward that she truly was and let it go like a good friend should.
She just needed them to both pretend that the one thing that they both wanted wasn’t possible.
To be continued…
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