Drink Me

41. WHO ARE YOU, REALLY?

WHO ARE YOU, REALLY?

Riley removed his clothes and lied on the bed, watching Alice scavenge through a drawer and eventually produce white pyjamas.

She removed her trousers and replaced them with the short cotton ones then, turning her back to Riley, she removed her t-shirt and bra. That's when Riley's eyes fell to her lower back where a white, thin scar ran down from her waist to disappear into the elastic of her shorts.

When he lifted his eyes, he met Alice's through the mirror.

The woman pulled her t-shirt down her torso and turned around. "A difference of opinion with an FSB interrogator," she said crawling on the bed.

"The case is still classified so I can't talk about it," she added reading Riley's curious expression. "But as a general tip, if you ever get arrested by the Russians, remember they don't do sarcasm..."

Riley nodded, scribbling something on an imaginary notepad. When he looked up Alice was staring inventively at him.

"Riley, I hope we've cleared the air once and for all and that you'll stop hating me," she started but Riley interrupted her.

"I don't hate you, Ally!"

Alice put her finger on the man's lips to stop him from talking.

"I don't care if you do, I just don't have an interest in petty fights..."

She finished expectantly studying his face.

"I don't do either, Alice but." Riley sighed. "You just seem to get the worst out of me, I...you get under my skin in all the wrong ways sometimes," he admitted.

Alice studied him, her round eyes two black pools of fascination and her head slightly tilted to the side.

"I hardly let anyone close enough to feel that way," she whispered as if talking to herself.

Riley observed her for a moment, her delicate features and hard eyes now burning on his.

"Who are you?" Riley gasped and surprised himself with his words.

Alice blinked and the chaos in her eyes was gone, replaced by cold onyx.

"Good night, Murphy," she said switching off the light.

"Night," Riley replied.

But he didn't move, he kept his back against the headrest as he watched the silhouette of the woman resting next to him.

He had desired her as Alice and then despised her as Absolem.

But now he felt something different; a yearning to meet the real her because every time he learned something new about that woman, he felt drawn closer to her.

He didn't know who she really was, but he was sure of one thing: he had never met anyone quite like her.

When Riley opened his eyes, the room was bright, the sun shining low over the horizon promising a day of respite from the rain, mimicking his internal turmoil. The quiet after the proverbial storm. He closed his eyes again trying to let them acclimate to the light.

"You're pretty when you sleep," Alice's voice came from the distance.

Riley opened one reluctant eye and took in her presence near the door, her shoulder leaning against the frame and her legs crossed at the ankles, a cup of steaming coffee in her hands.

"Only when I sleep?" he asked finally, letting the second eye come to terms with the daylight.

Alice sneered.