Post by Beau Crowe on Jan 22, 2018 14:41:35 GMT -5
Beau shifted in his sleep, and as his swollen ankle rubbed against the bed, he winced himself awake. He was groggy, and when he first opened his eyes, he was almost confused by where he was. It certainly wasn't the Manor that he had grown up in, but it was a place that was unfamiliar to him all the same. For a moment, he thought that perhaps he had hit his head and gotten amnesia, but as his ankle throbbed pain up his leg, it all came flooding back to him. He remembered the storm, the way that thunder and lightning fought for dominion over the clouded skies. He remembered his brothers and the LeBlancs, at a standoff outside of the clinic while the wind whipped fury through everyone's hair. He remembered the horde that had appeared from seemingly nothing, and he remembered being so outnumbered as he tried to help Brad, who had been locked outside. But also, he remembered the way that Brad grabbed him and flung him to the walkers as they closed in on the pair. He remembered the searing pain as the force of it made him trip over himself and sprain his ankle. He remembered the feeling of hungry hands tearing at his clothes, at his hair. He remembered the gnashing of teeth and the growls of starvation. He remembered, too, the way that the muck and mud made the monsters clumsy, and it was the only reason that he had survived.
Well, that and the sheer luck of running into Dixie. The last time that he had seen her was the day that he had beaten her boyfriend within an inch of his life for hurting her. The Crowe family may have been many things, but other than Brad, they didn't do much to harm women. Especially not physically. Their mother had raised them better than that, even if her parenting methods had been otherwise questionable. Beau had wanted to kill him, but he knew that there were some things that were too hot for even Bryce to cover up without a struggle, and he didn't want to stress him out. That wasn't to say that Bryce hadn't covered up for their family's murders before; but when they did happen, as it was relatively rare, they were handled expertly and Beau didn't want to have to add such an insignificant name to the list.
Beau wasn't surprised that that douchebag lived here, assuming that it was Dixie's place. Beau wanted to say that Dixie had mentioned she was taking him to her house, but when she had scooped him up out of the street, Beau had been in such a state of shock that he didn't really register much of what she had said in the first place. But the walls were lined with posters of either surfing, which made the guy a tool in Beau's opinion based on the state they lived in, or half-naked girls, which made the guy even more of a tool in Beau's opinion based on the fact that he lived with his girlfriend.
His smoking hot girlfriend, with a gorgeous face on top of having a hot body and a sweet ass. He really had missed the boat on that one. Beau had almost nailed her once, but it didn't end up happening. He had always had the hots for her, and the fiery chemistry for more had certainly been there. But other than when he had stared down her headlights, Beau hadn't thought about her much over the past few years. It was a strange twist of fate that had brought them together. Or maybe, for once, Beau was finally getting a streak of luck.
Beau pushed himself out of the bed, sleep still in his eyes, but he winced as his foot touched the floor. He had to piss like a racehorse, but he didn't see an attached bathroom, and there was no way that he was about to go and search for one when he was in that much pain. He limped to the window and opened it, finding himself to be on the third floor. This surprised him, but he was more surprised when he peered out the window and recognized the boyfriend's motorcycle parked right outside in the parking lot. If he was home, he hadn't made much of a fuss about him being there, which was shocking considering everything that had happened between them. Though, maybe he was waiting to get the drop on him.
Might as well give him a reason to get mad, if he was going to be pussy enough to try and fight a guy with a sprained ankle. Beau unzipped his pants and wasted no time whipping his cock out and pissing out the window. He heard the wet drops plopping all over the motorcycle and its leather seat, and Beau could only smirk to himself at his impeccable aim. Had it not been for the slight breeze, he probably could have gotten the handlebars, too. Beau shook the stray beads of urine loose before he zipped his pants back up and searched for something to help prop him up. He didn't find much in the way of a crutch, and so he instead used the wall for support as he limped out of the bedroom in search of Dixie.
It was hard to walk on his injured leg, and so it took him some time to make his way into the living room. But when he did, he found her sitting on the couch, and he leaned on the wall for support as he eyed her. He glanced around the apartment, but he didn't see the boyfriend hanging around anywhere. Yet his bike was outside, so where the hell was he?
"Hey, girl," he greeted. "You got some aspirin? Or maybe something stronger?"
Well, that and the sheer luck of running into Dixie. The last time that he had seen her was the day that he had beaten her boyfriend within an inch of his life for hurting her. The Crowe family may have been many things, but other than Brad, they didn't do much to harm women. Especially not physically. Their mother had raised them better than that, even if her parenting methods had been otherwise questionable. Beau had wanted to kill him, but he knew that there were some things that were too hot for even Bryce to cover up without a struggle, and he didn't want to stress him out. That wasn't to say that Bryce hadn't covered up for their family's murders before; but when they did happen, as it was relatively rare, they were handled expertly and Beau didn't want to have to add such an insignificant name to the list.
Beau wasn't surprised that that douchebag lived here, assuming that it was Dixie's place. Beau wanted to say that Dixie had mentioned she was taking him to her house, but when she had scooped him up out of the street, Beau had been in such a state of shock that he didn't really register much of what she had said in the first place. But the walls were lined with posters of either surfing, which made the guy a tool in Beau's opinion based on the state they lived in, or half-naked girls, which made the guy even more of a tool in Beau's opinion based on the fact that he lived with his girlfriend.
His smoking hot girlfriend, with a gorgeous face on top of having a hot body and a sweet ass. He really had missed the boat on that one. Beau had almost nailed her once, but it didn't end up happening. He had always had the hots for her, and the fiery chemistry for more had certainly been there. But other than when he had stared down her headlights, Beau hadn't thought about her much over the past few years. It was a strange twist of fate that had brought them together. Or maybe, for once, Beau was finally getting a streak of luck.
Beau pushed himself out of the bed, sleep still in his eyes, but he winced as his foot touched the floor. He had to piss like a racehorse, but he didn't see an attached bathroom, and there was no way that he was about to go and search for one when he was in that much pain. He limped to the window and opened it, finding himself to be on the third floor. This surprised him, but he was more surprised when he peered out the window and recognized the boyfriend's motorcycle parked right outside in the parking lot. If he was home, he hadn't made much of a fuss about him being there, which was shocking considering everything that had happened between them. Though, maybe he was waiting to get the drop on him.
Might as well give him a reason to get mad, if he was going to be pussy enough to try and fight a guy with a sprained ankle. Beau unzipped his pants and wasted no time whipping his cock out and pissing out the window. He heard the wet drops plopping all over the motorcycle and its leather seat, and Beau could only smirk to himself at his impeccable aim. Had it not been for the slight breeze, he probably could have gotten the handlebars, too. Beau shook the stray beads of urine loose before he zipped his pants back up and searched for something to help prop him up. He didn't find much in the way of a crutch, and so he instead used the wall for support as he limped out of the bedroom in search of Dixie.
It was hard to walk on his injured leg, and so it took him some time to make his way into the living room. But when he did, he found her sitting on the couch, and he leaned on the wall for support as he eyed her. He glanced around the apartment, but he didn't see the boyfriend hanging around anywhere. Yet his bike was outside, so where the hell was he?
"Hey, girl," he greeted. "You got some aspirin? Or maybe something stronger?"