After both she and Charlie had retired he took a shower, letting himself air-dry in the bathroom as he thumbed through magazines. For a moment, before he put his clothes back on, he contemplated masturbating to the thought of Eva. Imagining her on his lap, as naked as he was, got him as hard as a rock, but knowing she was just down the hall made him only want the real thing. So instead, he dressed and returned to his makeshift bedroom, flopping down on the couch.

Right before he fell asleep, he had the thought that he was playing with fire, but his typical answer to that familiar feeling echoed in his head—I don’t care.

Only this time he wasn’t sure how true that answer really was.

The night passed fitfully and he woke up sore. He could hear Charlie in one of the bedrooms snoring louder than he’d ever heard anyone snore, and that was counting the old timers at the MC. He was almost impressed. Sounded like he was revving a Harley in there.

Will groaned and rubbed his neck with his hand. The light coming in from the windows was beautiful gold, but low and dim, that special glow that only happened in the earliest morning hours. Morning birds had already begun their songs and he took a moment to enjoy the rare tranquil moment in a life that had turned so recently into such chaos.

As he stood and stretched, he realized something was different about this morning—aside from, obviously, waking up in a strange home without being next to a hot piece of ass. It took him a few moments, but then it hit him: he wasn’t hung over. Between the adrenaline of the fight, the prep work with Charlie, and his tense dance with Eva, Will hadn’t even had time to think about needing a drink to dull the pain. It was an uncomfortable realization for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.

One-off day, I’m sure, he thought. Though if this plan doesn’t work, I’ll probably be dead, anyway. What does it matter?

He twisted around, cracking his back muscles as he walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Will came to a stop when he saw Eva already sitting at the kitchen table in her bathrobe, one hand around a big cup of steaming coffee, the other flattened over an open book on the table. She looked up when he came in the room. Her anger from the day before was nowhere to be found.

“Oh,” said Will. He shifted his hips a bit when he realized he hadn’t quite lost his morning wood yet, and the sight of her barely covered thighs was not helping. “I didn’t hear you get up.”

“I was trying not to wake you,” said Eva in a quiet, tired voice. She nodded toward the counter. “There’s still coffee, if you want some.”

Indeed he did. Will opened a few cabinets until he found an empty blue mug and served himself a cup of black java. The warmth sang down his throat. Eva had gone back to her book, her index finger running a slow pace as she devoured each line. He could see her eyes moving back and forth along the page, momentarily jealous of the familiar but long neglected feeling of being lost in another world. How long has it been since I’ve read a book? There was a time when that was his favorite hobby, passed down to him from his grandparents’ own love of reading.

Will grabbed his cup and joined her at the table. Eva had taken the head of the table so he took the seat at her right hand that gave him a great angled view of her legs when he leaned back. When he sat, she peeked her eyes up at him without lifting her head.

“What’re you reading?” he asked, resting his coffee in his lap.

“Coriolanus,” said Eva, again without looking up.

“Shakespeare?” said Will. He smiled to himself. “I haven’t read any Bard in a long time.”

Eva snickered into the book.

“What?” said Will. “Is that you laughing at the idea of me reading Shakespeare?”

Eva finally looked up from the book. He expected to see that same fire in her eyes she’d had all night, but instead she actually looked confused. “Oh, no I… I really did think you were joking.”

“So, you really do think I’m just some dumb meathead who doesn’t read.” Will had been treated that way by friends, enemies, and strangers alike for most of his life—but this time, it actually stung. He kept his face still, because he didn’t want Eva to know that. Not that he could really blame her.

Eva shook her head. “I didn’t say that.” She paused. “Actually, by the way you picked up my book yesterday, I knew you had to be a reader of some kind.”

Will had forgotten about that. “Oh, yeah?”

“What kind of meathead would even notice I dropped a book, let alone care enough to pick it up?” said Eva. “That’s only something people who love books would care about.” When she finished, she smiled at him in a soft way that seemed different.

I guess she’s got me there. “I do love books. Or, I did… I haven’t read much in a while,” he said.

Eva tilted her head. “Why’s that?” Her pale skin looked so beautiful in the golden morning sunlight, even looking at her made it hard for Will to focus.

Will shook his head and looked down at his coffee. “Sometimes, I have trouble concentrating.”

Eva didn’t reply. When he looked up, he saw sadness on her face, but not pity. As if she was sad he couldn’t read anymore.

“I wasn’t really a big Shakespeare guy, anyway,” he added, feeling self-conscious. “When I was a kid, my grandfather would read to us while my grandmother baked in the evenings, and he always insisted on using this British accent when he read Shakespeare—a terrible one. We could never finish because we were laughing too hard. It basically ruined my ability to take him seriously.”

Eva laughed with him at the memory, and Will couldn’t believe how lovely she looked.

I haven’t thought about that in so long. And I just told it to this woman I barely know. What the hell is going on with me?

“Well, technically, Coriolanus is only part Shakespeare. It’s actually a very old Roman story that he retold,” said Eva.

“So we really have been doing remakes forever,” said Will as he sipped his coffee. He winked at Eva when she gave him the stink eye for his terrible joke.

“It’s a story meant to be remade. It’s so powerful,” she said, her voice taking on a wistful quality. “The great drama of the warrior and people; the balance of peace and war.”

“And whose side are you on?” asked Will.

“I think they both have their merits,” said Eva. “I understand why Coriolanus is upset with the plebeians. Being in war is a difficult thing, and it changes a person. It changes the way they see things. Sometimes they can’t see normal, peaceful life anymore, because it seems like an illusion.”

Will’s chest was tightening up as she spoke, because he felt like she was reaching right into his mind and yanking out his own thoughts; his own fears; the way he saw the world now.

“But Coriolanus didn’t react how he should have. Being excellent on the battlefield doesn’t always translate to being excellent in other areas. He got beaten by better politicians, and then he tried to come back with violence, compelled by thoughts of vengeance and retribution, and because that’s the only way he thought he could win. But violence isn’t always the best tool.”

Will looked at her, watching the depth in her eyes as her brain worked out her thoughtful answer. Her soft lips pursed closed as she waited for his response. For a moment, all he could think about was smashing his own lips against hers in a passionate kiss.

Instead, he gathered his thoughts and spoke. “It’s an ancient cautionary tale. I always enjoyed him, though—Coriolanus. I enjoy his fighting spirit.”

Eva gave him a smirk, but it wasn’t bitter like yesterday’s—this was more playful. “You, enjoying the warrior archetype? Color me shocked.”

“And I enjoy how he doesn’t let the shitty decisions of his superiors sway him from what he knows he has to do,” said Will. As the words came out of his mouth, he realized exactly why he liked Coriolanus, really. Doing a little hero worship of yourself, are we?