Dancing with Time

Betrayal

Dedicated to: dendoo

"Betrayal is like a storm; it leaves you drenched in tears and searching for the sun." ― Unknown

Heat shimmered from the unforgiving sun, and Juliet felt it scorch her bare face. With a groan, she flopped onto her side, seeking solace in the unyielding warmth that pressed against her back. It wasn't a pillow – it was firm, defined muscle. A jolt of terror shot through her as strong arms snaked around her waist, their heat a stifling blanket.

Panic clawed at Juliet's throat. Her emerald eyes flew open, a mistake she instantly regretted. The harsh sunlight forced them shut again, a whimper escaping her lips. Fragmented memories flickered behind her closed eyelids, a chaotic montage of the previous night.

The sterile conference room, Keith's face contorted in fury... the smoky haze of the bar... Ray's voice, a low murmur beside her... then, the offer of a ride home. A throbbing ache exploded in her head, and the arms around her tightened possessively.

Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Oh god, had she gone home with Ray Jacobsen? Keith would erupt. The image of his fury sent a fresh wave of nausea crashing over her. How much had she drunk? The answer remained frustratingly elusive, buried beneath a subconscious shield. The only certainty was the dull ache in her chest, a silent testament to a reckless decision.

A warm gust of breath tickled her cheek, followed by the press of unwelcome lips. The mattress dipped beside her, then creaked with the weight of someone rising. Juliet lay frozen, a statue carved from fear until the satisfying click of the door lock shattered the silence.

Footsteps faded down the hallway, and only then did she allow herself to breathe again. Slowly, her emerald eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the slivers of sunlight filtering through the thin curtains. Relief washed over her as she scanned the familiar contours of her room. A nagging sensation persisted, and an important detail was on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach.

Heaving herself upright, Juliet leaned against the headboard, her fingers instinctively massaging her throbbing temples. "Never. Drinking. Again," she muttered, each word a vow. But the promise lacked conviction. The effort of reaching for the Advil on the nightstand seemed insurmountable.

A familiar voice jolted her from her self-pity. "You're awake." Keith stood in the doorway, his presence a sudden intrusion. An inexplicable wave of animosity washed over her. She scowled at the sound of his voice. The bed dipped beside her, and she flinched away, her emerald eyes flashing with a mixture of fear and anger. "Here," he said, his voice strained, offering a glass of water and two white tablets.

Juliet wordlessly accepted the offering, swallowing the pills dry. The medicine wouldn't dull the throbbing in her head for at least another fifteen minutes. A relentless voice in her mind urged her to remember, but it remained frustratingly silent. Keith sighed, a sound laced with exasperation. She just couldn't be around him, a potent cocktail of anger and hurt churning in her gut. But the reason for those emotions remained frustratingly elusive.

"You rolled in at an ungodly hour," Keith's voice was a low growl. "Care to explain where you've been?" It wasn't a question; it was a demand, and the icy edge to his tone sent a fresh wave of irritation crashing over Juliet. Her head throbbed, a dull ache resonating behind her eyes. Why was she so angry? Why did everything feel so out of place? This Saturday morning had taken a sharp turn into chaos, and the reason seemed as elusive as a dream upon waking.

Juliet rolled her eyes, the movement slow and sluggish. Pushing off the remnants of sleep, she reached for the covers, the crisp white sheets a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. As she rose, a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. The oversized shirt clinging to her frame wasn't hers – the tell-tale scent of Keith's cologne was a potent reminder of the previous night. It barely reached mid-thigh, offering little coverage, and a shiver of regret snaked down her spine.