No Strings Attached

Chapter Two

Norma Bates hated many things about her life, but right now, she could say with certainty that her feelings about Alex Romero were particularly frustrating. On good days, she could handle him. His stern, unyielding nature, the way he always seemed to have one eyebrow raised in suspicion. But other days, he drove her insane. Not because of anything he would do, but the way he could make her feel whenever he was around.
She caught herself watching him a little too closely now, most times without even realizing it. And sometimes he would catch her staring, and a jolt would shoot through her, leaving her reeling. She tried to convince herself that it was nothing, that she only noticed him more because he was around more. But if she was honest, she thought about him far more than she wanted to admit.
Today had been an especially exhausting day. She spent most of it at the police station after an altercation between Norman and Cody Brennan's dad led to her dad dying.
But what stuck with Norma most was the look on Alex's face when he and Norman caught her in a tight embrace with George, and the way that look twisted something deep inside her. It was more than shock, it was like she had broken something fragile.
She had only sought out George because he was there when she needed someone to lean on, he was something solid in the chaos. But Alex...he'd looked at her as if she'd let him down.
And then there was Norman. He was becoming increasingly difficult, every attempt at conversation led to an argument, and her patience was wearing thin. By the time evening rolled around, she felt drained, angry, and terribly alone.
She found herself walking down the front steps of her house, needing some fresh air, something to take her mind off of everything weighing her down.
And then she saw him, sitting alone on the porch, a bottle of whiskey in hand. The sight of him sitting there with that calm, unreadable expression, stirred something in her. She didn't stop to think before walking over, feeling a strange sense of comfort in his presence.
"Rough night?" she asks, already moving into the seat beside him.
He looked at her, his gaze steady as he took another sip. "Could ask you the same thing."
She huffs out a breath, leaning back. "Sometimes, I think this whole place-" she waved her hand, gesturing to the motel, the town, the darkness around them, "-is just another prison. You escape one entrapment only to end up in another."
He nodded before passing the bottle of whiskey to her, and she accepted, quickly feeling the warmth of the whiskey spread through her. The silence stretched out between them, and with anyone else, it might've felt awkward. But with Alex, it was different.
He didn't push her to fill the gaps with chatter, didn't demand explanations or reassurances. He just sat there, quietly drinking, his presence grounding her in a way she couldn't explain as they passed the bottle back and forth.
As the alcohol softened the edges of her thoughts, she found herself looking at him, really looking at him. She studied the hard lines of his jaw, the slight crease in his brow, the way his eyes, even in dim light, seemed to see right through her. It made her heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the whiskey.
The realization struck her suddenly, uncomfortably. She was attracted to him. She'd known it, of course, on some level, but it was different to feel it so clearly, with him sitting right beside her. She took another sip as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to push the thought away, but it only intensified, filling her with a reckless urge she couldn't ignore.
Without thinking, she leaned closer to him, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. "Can I ask you a question?"
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes searching, as if deciding whether or not this was a trap, before eventually nodding slightly. "Yeah."
"Are you attracted to me?"
His expression barely shifted, but she saw the way his hand tightened around the bottle, the way his gaze flickered ever so slightly. He recovered quickly, his voice smooth and calm. "What makes you say that?"
She laughed, the sound a little too loud, a little too forced. "I'm not blind, Alex. I see the way you look at me."
For a moment, he just stared at her, his face unreadable. Then he looked away, taking another long sip of whiskey. "Maybe you're imagining things."
"Am I?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Because I think we're both a little...frustrated."
She could see the tension in his jaw, the way he was fighting to keep his expression neutral as she took the bottle from his grasp, her fingers lingering a little too long on his. It thrilled her, the idea that she could get under his skin, that she had this effect on him. She took another sip of whiskey, feeling bolder, reckless.
"You know what I think?" she continued, her voice soft. "I think we should just...get it out of our system. One night. No strings attached. Just us. And then we can go back to pretending like none of this ever happened."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and charged. She watched his face, searching for a reaction, searching for a sign that he was considering it. For a moment, he said nothing, just stared at her with those dark, unreadable eyes. And then he shook his head, letting out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.
"No, Norma," he said, his voice low and steady. "I don't think that's a good idea."
She felt a flicker of irritation, a dab of frustration that he wasn't playing along. She leaned closer, her gaze challenging. "Why not? You can't deny you're attracted to me. I've seen how you look at me."
He looked away, his jaw tense, his grip on the bottle white-knuckled. "You're drunk," he muttered. "You wouldn't be saying this if you were sober."
"We both know that's not true," she says as she leans further towards him.
He turned to face her, his expression hardening. "Even if it were true, it's not a good idea. You think it's all going to be that simple, but it won't be. Not with you."
She blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice, the raw honesty she hadn't expected. For a moment, she was speechless, caught off guard by the depth of feeling she saw in his eyes.
"You're saying you don't want me?" she asked, her voice soft, sounding too vulnerable for her liking.
He hesitated, and in that brief pause, she saw the truth. He wanted her. More than he'd ever admit. But there was something holding him back, something she couldn't quite understand.
"It's not that," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I just...I don't want things to get messy between us. I don't want to ruin...whatever this is."
She looked at him, feeling a strange mix of frustration and something else, something that felt dangerously close to hurt. She's expected him to laugh, brush it off with that cocky smirk of his. But instead, he was looking at her like she was something he was afraid to break.
"So...what?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "We just keep pretending like none of this is happening?"
He looked away, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the darkness. "Maybe that's for the best."
They sat there in silence, the weight of his words settling between them. Norma felt a strange, hollow ache in her chest, a feeling she couldn't quite name. She'd expected him to say yes, to take her up on her offer without a second thought. Most men, she wouldn't even have to ask. But instead, he sat there, holding back, as if he was afraid of something she couldn't see.
Finally she stood up, brushing the imaginary dirt off her dress. "Fine. Suit yourself."
He looked up at her, his expression unreadable once again. She met his gaze, her chin lifted defiantly, and for a moment they just stared at each other, the unspoken tension between them hanging heavy in the air.
"Goodnight, Sheriff," she said, her voice cool and detached.
"Goodnight, Norma," he says, his tone warm, his eyes still staring deeply at her.
As she turned to walk away, she felt a strange, lingering sense of disappointment, a feeling she couldn't quite shake. As she walked back to the house, she thought about the way he had looked at her when she first questioned him. She knew he wanted her just as bad as she wanted him. It would just take a little convincing for him to give in to his desires. And Norma was a natural at the art of persuasion.