From the beginning, your first impression of Benny Watts was: arrogant. And since then, he's never proven otherwise. You hated each other, you started hating each other from the first game you played, and you hated each other even more after the first checkmate. Your relationship was like that: he'd jab at you, you'd react, you'd jab at him, and he'd react. Enemies, not friends, not lovers, just enemies.

You didn't know when, or how, or even why... Maybe it was because you'd beaten him in yet another game of chess, and he drowned his sorrows in alcohol... or because you met at the bar, already completely drunk. Maybe it happened with the cheeky comments about how much you liked his hair, or the way he tried to keep you sober (in vain). But it simply happened.

You'd exchanged harsh words, hit each other, argued all night, but still... the way he simply kissed you after you'd slapped him in anger got to you.

And there you were... in Benny's drab apartment, that place you'd call a dump if you were sober.

You were wrapped in damp sheets, your bodies sweaty and warm, but there you were... in a calm, intimate moment, completely satisfied. You were lying on your stomach, and Benny was lying on top of you, his chin resting on your back, close to your shoulder. He traced gentle patterns on your back, kissing your neck tenderly while his arms enveloped you in a drunken, affectionate embrace...

It was a terrible idea, you'd regret it in the morning, but now, the present was happening and you didn't want it to stop.

"I never imagined it would end like this..." Benny whispered, breaking the lighthearted mood that had settled there, giving her a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. His fingers moved up her side until they reached one of her breasts, and his hand enveloped it like a cocoon, gently squeezing and massaging it.