While having just been released from prison, due to a night full of misfortunate mistakes, Red McCoy witnesses an old friend of his, son being kicked out of his apartment in the middle of the night.
Beverly Reid had been living on his own since he...
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Beverly's feet padded against the flooring, his arms across his chest, him finally regretting tossing his sweater. His heart pounded in his chest, his hand reaching up to try and massage the skin above it.
His mind wandered off to wonder if Red was sleeping, or if he was as awake as Beverly.
He knocked, several times, trying to take deep breaths with every knock his knuckle knocked. Beverly waited, wondering if maybe he'd knocked too lightly, and if Red had even heard him at all.
Seconds later, the door was being pulled open, Red standing there, chest heaving, a drop of sweat falling slowly. Red analyzed Beverly, leaning against the doorway in anticipation. "I don't really feel like talking right now."
"Then we don't have to talk."
Red knew what Beverly meant. But while his heart went a million miles per hour, his heart screamed for him to slam the door in Beverly's face. Part of him knew how stupid it would be for him to sleep with Beverly.
Royally stupid.
"And what will we do if we aren't talking?" Red cocked his head to the side, as though daring Beverly to voice his true actions. But deep down, he just knew he wouldn't.
Beverly pushed past Red into his bedroom, his fingers beginning to fiddle at his pants' button and zipper. Red's heart drops at the sight of Beverly undressing before him.
"What the hell are you doing? Put your clothes back on." Red's voice was stern, but began to waver, once Beverly lifted his shirt from his body.
Beverly smiled a small smile, his curls falling into his eyes. "No."
