Opposites Distract 13: Sleepless in Raleigh

~ Edgar ~

“Take the bed.”

Liv looked up from her phone, her mouth still full of crust. Just like he’d planned.

“Don’t argue. It’s rude to talk with your mouth full.” That garnered Edgar a narrow-eyed look that was surprisingly cute.

Eventually, she swallowed the bite and glared. “Where will you sleep?”

He pointed over her shoulder. Liv turned and stared at the couch.

It was a bargain knock-off of better furniture, which meant its design looked sophisticated but felt like sitting on a speed bump. Its gray fabric had a brownish tint that might not have been original—rough on the eyes and even worse on bare skin. Not a problem, since Edgar wasn’t planning on sleeping naked.

Not with Liv here.

“That couch?” she said, still staring at it.

“There isn’t a back-up in the closest. I checked.”

She gave him an extremely skeptical look.

“What?”

“There’s no way.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said.

“That thing is too short for me, and I’m a couple inches shorter than you.”

“I’ll just sleep…compactly,” he insisted.

“In the fetal position?”

“Yes,” Edgar shot back, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “We’re both cramming into this tiny place because of me. The least I can do is let you take the bed. It’s. Fine.”

“We’re both adults. We can just share—”

“Does everything have to be an argument?” His tone was so strident she flinched. Edgar felt terrible, but didn’t voice the apology she deserved.

“No,” she said after a pause, “It doesn’t. I’ll take the bed.” Every word was wrapped in frost. 

Nodding, he collected the pizza box and walked into the kitchenette to stash the remaining slices in the fridge. Behind him resumed the light tap-tapping of Liv working on her case notes.

God, he wanted to apologize. But if he said he was sorry, she would thaw. Then, like a mature adult, she would re-offer to share the bed. And sharing a bed with Liv would be like running into a fireworks factory with a lit torch. He’d lay down beside her, catch that distinct floral scent she wore, then blurt something awful like, “Mind if I kiss your shoulder and work my way up? Down’s fine too.”

No. Sleeping on the couch was the only sane option.

He walked back to the table and picked up their water glasses.

“I was still drink—”

“I’m getting you a refill.”

“Oh.” Her quizzical expression, with dark eyebrows quirked up ever-so-slightly, was captivating. 

Ten days, he thought as he turned on the water. You can be a gentleman for a week-and-a-half. He set the drinks down and slid back into his seat.

“Thank you.” Liv’s response was subdued and hard to read, but he wouldn't dwell on it. On her. Instead, he threw himself back into the tangled case file.

The Phase Energy investors meeting was little more than a week away, and they’d barely gotten started. Forcing himself to concentrate, he studied the notes until the rhythm of information and guesswork became almost hypnotic. He was still deeply absorbed some time later, when a poor attempt at muffling a yawn broke into his awareness. Edgar glanced up.

Liv was staring at her screen, blinking rapidly. As he watched, she stretched her neck, and refocused. He suddenly realized how tired she looked. Her shoulders were slumped and there were bruised circles under her eyes. Come to think of it, his own eyelids we're feeling gritty.

“Liv?”

She did another exaggerated blink and sluggishly focused on him. “Hm?”

“Are you avoiding going to bed?”

“Of course not.” A pensive look tightened her mouth.

“Is it…I mean, am I making you uncomfortable? I could sleep in the bathroom or—”

“No. Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s nothing like that, Edgar.” She grimaced. “I just…don’t have anything to wear, okay? Normally I sleep in loose pajamas, but until tomorrow I'm stuck with this ball-breaker get-up, and it's super binding.”

It didn't take a super sleuth to confirm that. For Edgar, the tightness of Liv’s clothes had been an…early observation. He took a bracing drink of water. Solutions. It was time to focus on solutions.

“What about your…” He made a meaningless gesture and felt his cheeks warming. “…underthings.”

“Yes.” Liv gave an amused huff. “Every layer. Super. Binding.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “My fault for going full method acting when it came to dressing like Olive Howell. But if I wait long enough—like, until I’m about to faceplant—there’s a chance my overactive brain will show mercy and let me sleep.”

Edgar frowned at this latest reminder that he'd put his partner in a bad position. He quickly scrambled up and walked over to his bag. Unzipping it, he took a moment to search its contents.

“Here.” He set a folded gray T-shirt on the table next to her.

Liv’s hands stayed poised over her keyboard. She eyed it without moving, like it was an aggressive rodent that might attack if she startled it. “What is that?”

“My dad got it for me as a souvenir, and he guessed two X’s higher than my actual size. Now I use it for super lazy days and as a reminder to do my laundry.”

“You have super lazy days?” she asked—probably to buy time while she considered his offer.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I curl up with a good spreadsheet, then balance my books while sipping a kale-infused protein shake. Sometimes I turn on Himalayan chanting if I really want to cut loose.” Her eyes went wide and he couldn’t help the belly laugh that rumbled out of him. “Oh come on…do I really give off Himalayan chanting vibes?”

“Sharon does advanced Sudoku for fun. I make no assumptions.”

“Well, I have regular lazy days that involve garbage television, video games, and little chocolate doughnuts. Now…will you please wear my novelty shirt so we can sleep? You need comfort and I need to not have crushing guilt.”

Slowly…Liv’s lips tilted into a guarded smile. “Okay,” she murmured.

That smile did funny things to his insides. Then she stood up and stretched with her arms over her head—a view that did not-so-funny things to parts of his outsides—before slipping his shirt off the table and padding into the bathroom.

“I put out a spare toothbrush for you,” he called after her.

While she was gone he went over his case report for the third time, a transparent attempt to get his physical reactions under control. And, ten minutes later, all of that careful effort collapsed the moment Liv stepped out of the bathroom.

With her half-lidded eyes, bare feet, and glossy hair starting to relax and curl, she had gone from “titanium corporate terminator” to “slightly vulnerable girl-next-door.” She looked heart-wrenchingly lovely, and his heart was suitably wrenched.

Plus there was the shirt. She was wearing his shirt, which thrilled him in some fundamental caveman way.

“Care to explain this?” Liv’s sardonic tone saved him from starting to drool.

Wake up, idiot! “What?” he replied a bit late.

Liv gestured at the front of the shirt. He took in the detailed artwork of two locomotives over the text: IT’S GETTING STEAMY IN HERE.

“Oh! Well…I said that the shirt was a souvenir.” Edgar rubbed the back of his neck. “It came from a special event at the North Carolina Transportation Museum. Those are, um, steam locomotives. My dad’s something of a train buff.”

Liv raised her eyebrows, but was apparently too tired to ask any more questions. Instead, she pulled back the bedspread and slid under the covers with a moan of deep satisfaction.

Edgar prayed for strength.

She turned her back to him almost immediately, rolling onto her side to face the wall. His eyes briefly lingered on her tantalizing profile. Under the blanket, Liv resembled a friendly mountain range beneath the “sky” of the bungalow's gloomy gray wall. He couldn't help but mentally hike the slope of her thigh and follow it into the cozy dip of her waist.

He coughed. “Sleep well, Liv.”

“Good night,” she said quietly.

Edgar turned out the light and fled into the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and changing into his sweats and undershirt, he tip-toed into the dark and climbed onto the scratchy couch. It took some twisting around, but eventually he managed to get all his limbs off the floor. Liv had been right, he was practically fetal. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep anyway.

The next fifteen minutes passed like a slow train. By then the only thing asleep was his left leg and right elbow. Unloading a hearty string of mental curses, Edgar shifted about, trying to maximize the couch’s three inches of optional wiggle room. As if the noise of his struggles had been a signal, Liv suddenly flumped onto her back and sighed loudly.

“Edgar?” she whispered.

“Mm?”

“You still awake?”

“No. Just talking in my sleep.”

That earned him a quiet huff of laughter. Then she sighed again.

“I need to tell you something,” she said in a quick burst. “Something that's been bugging me, and I feel like I owe you since you told me about smacking Haymer while letting me chicken out.”

“It was a shoulder check,” Edgar replied automatically, feeling mildly tipsy on Liv’s low, throaty words.

“Don’t joke…I really need to tell someone this. I’m not…great…with the confiding thing, but I’ve never had a partner before. Maybe I could try with you?”

Edgar raised his head at her admission. It was humbling and, oddly, a little scary, like he’d been handed something delicate. He gingerly levered himself upright. “Go ahead.”

“I was angry when Hartnell assigned you the data theft half of the case.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “You were?”

“Yeah. It's like what you told me earlier, your thing about being associated with computers, but the opposite. I feel like no one trusts me to handle intricate tasks. Anything deemed ‘brainy.’ ”

Edgar frowned in her direction. In the dark, he could just make out that she’d shifted onto her side to look at him. 

“You’re extremely intelligent,” he said.

“I have street smarts, maybe, but my lack of an advanced degree—”

“You have smart smarts, Liv. Your investigation skills are top-notch. Most of us think you’re the best investigator in the agency. Hartnell loves you.”

“Then why did he assign you the Gonzalez and Reese case when I asked him for it?”

“What?” His instinctive reply was sharper than intended.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” she said hastily. “It was before he’d assigned it to anyone. I wouldn’t undercut someone already on the job.”

Edgar considered this for a moment. “What did he say when you asked?”

“Just that he would think about it. And then an out-of-state property dispute popped up and he moved me to that instead.”

“Well,” Edgar said carefully, “isn’t that just an efficient use of resources? I mean, I had the chops to handle Gonzalez and Reese, and you’re the agency’s out-of-state specialist.”

She blew out a breath. “I get what you’re saying—and I did close that property case fast. And clearly you kicked ass on Gonzalez and Reese.”

Her words made Edgar’s shoulders straighten. As far as he was concerned, Liv Doyle really was the best. Coming from her, honest praise was priceless. He was just grateful the low light obscured the goofy grin on his face.

“Maybe I’m just seeing issues where there aren’t any,” she said after a moment.

“I didn’t say that,” Edgar replied.

Shadows moved across the covers as she shifted. “What do you mean?”

“I always get assigned the computer jobs, remember? That's not in my head. If a case has the tiniest whiff of silicon, I get the nod. I mean, I am good at computers, but I’m totally typecast. Maybe you are too.”

“ ‘Edgar the computer guy,’ ” she said glumly. 

“Liv Doyle, Ms. ‘Out-of-State’ USA.”

She gave a soft snort. “I really am sorry I called you that, Edgar. I was part of the problem.”

“It’s okay. I wasn't rehashing it. I just meant…I get it. But thank you.” He tilted his head, thinking. “Do you even like going out-of-state?”

“Not really. I didn’t mind early on. No one else wanted those jobs and it gave me more opportunities to stand out. But after a while you just get…”

“Stuck,” he said.

“Stuck,” she agreed.

Edgar drummed his fingers on his knees. “Liv…who says we have to play the board the way it’s been set up? We both want a chance to show our range, right?”

“Damn straight.” She pushed herself into a full sit. “What are you thinking?”

“Full partnership,” he stated. “Cooperation on every aspect of the case.”

“You mean…you assist me on dealing with the sabotage?”

“And you help me plug the data leak—and I don't just mean keeping watch.” He took a deep breath, feeling a hopeful tension build. “What do you think?”

When she answered, her smile was in her voice. “Let’s do it.” She gave a soft laugh. “You keep surprising me, Edgar Sharp. Thanks for listening, and more importantly, really hearing me.”

“I guess we have more in common than we thought,” he replied. “We’re both victims of our own success.” He couldn’t help but wonder if the similarities went deeper than that. Did she also feel the same attraction he was having to endure? Maybe he would work up the courage to ask her after the investigation was done. “Good night, Liv.”

“Night, partner.” Liv said. She rolled back over, and this time she was out within minutes. 

Surprisingly, even contorted into a human pretzel, Edgar fell into a deep sleep of his own. He had a confusing dream about fleeing from hostile security guards through a dark forest, a woman’s hand in his as she ran alongside. He couldn’t see her face through the tangled shadows, but he got the impression of fierce blue eyes and a delicately pointed chin.