Bed of Roses

Chapter 5

Peggy doesn't stay the night.

Shaking, she dresses herself. Looking at Rex, asleep on the sofa, she notes how young and gentle he looks with fibers of his hair dangling in his face. He rests, clad only in his underwear and a gold neck chain with his arms folded across his chest, quietly inhaling and exhaling through his nose with a steady whistling sound. There's a moment where Peggy thinks that she may have woken him. He stirs in his sleep, mumbles something inaudible and rolls over to face the back of the couch.

She heaves a sigh of relief and shrugs on her duffel coat, fixing the toggle-fastenings. Peggy leans over the sofa and watches his face as he lay dormant on the creaking cushions. Her lips almost plant a kiss on his temple, but she moves away just as a finger's breadth separates them from his skin.

Peggy opens and closes the front door quietly, trying not to rouse Rex from his slumber. It's 11:30pm. Flipping her hood up and over her head, she prepares herself for the insane cold of the night. There is no point in calling Liam. It's late at night and, regardless of their friendship status, she cannot bring herself to be selfish and ask for a ride home.

She breathes out hard and a brume of white greets her. She thinks, maybe the cold isn't the worst part about the walk home. No. The worst part about the walk home is the amount of time she is given to think about everything. About how scared she was, about the look of pleasure on Rex's face and about how nasty she felt when he finally finished and rolled off.

And, still, she cannot believe that she let him in like that. Peggy has been saving herself for someone really special. Someone who doesn't break her things when he gets angry and someone who doesn't grow insecure when she's around her friends. Rex is not that kind of person. So, why hadn't she denied him like the other nights? Why had she stripped stark naked and allowed him to mount her hips?

Her breathing picks up like the winds. Nervous, Peggy pats her pockets. “It's here,” she wheezes. “It's gotta be here.” She feels the contours of her inhaler and pulls it from her coat pocket, taking a large pull from it, then another pull afterward. As soon as she can breathe normally, she pockets the inhaler and decides not to dwell any further on tonight's events.

Peggy ventures so far out of her own thoughts that she doesn't even realize that she has been knocked to the ground on her back. Looking up and into the sky, snowflakes whirl through the air like a vortex of ghost white stars. In a way, the beauty of the moment is almost hypnotizing.

“Shit!” Someone grabs the moistened lapels of her coat and pulls her off of the slippery sidewalk. “I'm nothin' but a mess tonight!”

Finally gauging the severe ache in her spine, Peggy looks up to meet the eyes of a boy no older than herself. “You're fine. I was a little lost somewhere in my thoughts.”

“No, it was me!” A hint of liquor lingers on his breath. “I didn't mean to slam into ya, lass! My apologies!”

“Really, it's nothin',” Peggy replies in her softest tone. “If you don't mind, I've got to get home. Thanks for pullin' me up.”

“Well, wait a sec!” shouts the blonde boy.

Peggy turns back to face him and raises a wary eyebrow which is hidden beneath her wispy, wind-blown fringe. She sizes him up: he's a little taller than her, blue eyes and blonde hair that she notes through the haze of snow. Or, rather, a clumsy, chatty, drunk boy. Great, just what she needs after a night like this. “Yes?”

“You look familiar,” he replies.

“I can tell you that we have never met before,” says Peggy before turning and walking off.