NOVEL WEB Chapter 35: She's wet for sho
Give me stone give me power this is what l desire
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The wineglass twirled slow in Beth's hand, stem caught between her fingers with a grip a shade too tight for casual. The kitchen lights spilled soft over marble countertops, reflecting a faint shimmer off the dark red swirl circling the bottom of her glass. She hadn't moved since Jerry left standing in that same relaxed pose, leaning back just enough to pretend she wasn't waiting for something.
Morty didn't speak. He stood at the sink, rinsing his hands like it mattered, water running in a slow, soft stream. Every motion unhurried. Intentional. The kind of silence that wasn't empty… but charged.
Beth broke it first.
"That was… harsh."
Her voice held no judgment. No anger. Just a faint curiosity sliding under the words like a blade under skin.
Morty didn't look up. His hands moved in slow, deliberate circles beneath the water.
"Was it?"
Beth tilted her head, watching him over the rim of her glass.
"You tell me."
Morty reached for the hand towel smooth, calm drying his hands with a precision that felt surgical. He met her eyes then. Steady. Level.
"I told him the truth."
Beth's lips curved, soft, not quite a smile.
"Most people don't survive too much truth."
Morty folded the towel, placed it beside the sink. His eyes never left hers.
"Jerry's not most people."
Beth's gaze lingered that faint, unreadable look like she was weighing something heavier than words. She took a sip of her wine, slow, throat moving soft around the swallow.
"And you are?"
Morty gave a single, slight shrug.
"I'm honest."
Beth's laugh was soft not mocking. Closer to something she hadn't meant to let out.
"Honest. Right."
Morty stepped closer, unhurried, smooth crossing the space between them with all the weight of a man who belonged in every inch of the room he moved through.
"Is that funny?"
Beth tilted her chin, eyes narrowing just a shade. She didn't move back. Didn't shift her weight.
"It is… coming from you."
Morty leaned in, close enough that the air between them felt like it might crack under the pressure his voice dropping into a low hum.
"You think I'm lying?"
Beth's smile stayed in place, but her eyes flickered something sharper beneath the surface.
"I think… you're a teenage boy who talks like a man with nothing to lose."
Morty smiled then slow, soft, the kind of smile that didn't belong on any teenage boy's face.
"Maybe I am."
Beth held his gaze, her breath sliding in slow, steady pulls the edge of something sharp balancing on the moment between them.
She didn't back away.
Didn't break eye contact.
Didn't speak.
The silence stretched, long, tight, like the string of a bow drawn back to breaking.
Morty leaned in, voice a soft murmur the words not a question, but a quiet statement slipping under her skin.
"You're still here."
Beth's eyes didn't flicker. But her lips parted soft, slow a breath she didn't realize she was holding sliding out into the space between them.
"So are you."
Morty tilted his head, watching her with that same calm, unnerving patience.
"I'm not the one with a glass of wine and no reason to stay."
Beth's smile faltered not gone, but edged with something else now. Something tighter.
She let out a soft, breathy laugh.
"Is this how you talk to your mom?"
Morty's smile sharpened, the faintest flicker of something darker glinting in his eyes.
"No."
Beth's fingers tightened on the glass.
Morty's gaze dropped, slow, deliberate following the line of her throat, the curve of her collarbone, the soft rise of her chest behind the thin fabric of her blouse. He lifted his eyes again, voice smooth as silk over steel.
"Should I?"
Beth's breath caught not loud, not sharp… just enough.
She stared at him a long, quiet stare like she was seeing something she didn't know she'd been looking for until it was right in front of her.
Morty held her gaze, unblinking, a faint hum of something electric curling between them in the charged, heavy air of the kitchen.
Beth set the glass down slow, careful the faint clink ringing sharper than it should've.
She didn't answer.
Didn't move.
Morty stepped back first just a fraction, the ghost of a movement.
He didn't break eye contact.
Didn't smirk.
Didn't soften.
"Goodnight, Mom."
His voice was low, smooth… polite. Almost tender.
Beth's breath slipped out in a soft exhale chest rising slow.
She nodded once.
"Goodnight, Morty."
He turned, walked away slow, calm, each step clean and precise, never rushed.
Beth stood there a long moment after the sound of his footsteps faded.
The air in the kitchen felt warmer than it had a minute ago.
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Your not ready for the next chapter fam