Quicksand – Chapter 1
Tim was warm, overly so. His legs and stomach were sticky with the heat of the bed. A cocoon of warm air was swelling around him like a steaming cloud. This was when summer wasn't the greatest season, a blight on a morning where a sleep in would be preferred. He drew his left calf away from his right thigh and they squelched against one another. Not a particularly pleasant sensation as it felt like his skin was constricting in the swelter, sweat was present but he wasn't wet. It was frustrating. He groaned. He reached out for her, to touch the softness of her hair, the smooth contours of her form but his arms met no resistance. She was probably in the shower freeing herself from the confines of the heat.
The world was black as it was too early to open his eyes. He could feel the light tickling his eye lids, trying to tease them open. Orange blurs raced across the inside of his eyelids, daring him to open them. He was a stubborn son of a gun, they were staying shut. He kicked his legs, trying to generate some air flow beneath the sheets. It didn't work so he kicked the sheets away entirely, worming his head further into the pillow. She would join him again soon, he would press his warm body against her cool, slippery one and he would get hot and cool all at the same time.
It was no use. Sweat was pooling at his nape, slithering into the hair that hung there. The weight of his sodden hair was unbearable. He was too hot and sleeping in wasn't going to provide any relief. He swiftly turned using the muscles that entwined the core of his body. He raised his arms above his head and looked at the ceiling. It was freshly painted, not blotchy. He sat up immediately. This wasn't his room. His eyes wildly searched the room looking for something familiar, something that would say that he hadn't screwed himself or someone else. He erratically grabbed at the sheet, covering his naked form for modesty. This was the first time in history he could remember feeling the need to cover himself but the situation was bad. The walls of the room were pink, that light pink that was more white than pink. The kind of hue that made dreaded chills sprint down his back as his stomach contracted. Worse still was his feet, they were placed in thickly piled, pink carpet. Almost shag. Against the back of his calves were frills, lots of frothy white frills that screamed high maintenance. Where was Julie? And what the hell was he doing in this bedroom?
Julie was going to kill him, bury him, dig him up, decapitate him and then burn him for good measure. He had been doing so good too. They had been together for a few months, first blush of like and all that. It wasn't love, he'd convinced himself early in their relationship that falling in love with Julie Taylor was both crazy, stupid and beyond his human condition too. He bowed his head in his damp hands and tried to wish away the problem that would cost him dearly. A price he wasn't willing to pay. Julie.
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When Coach Taylor had taken over the team he'd been a little cautious. Sure the man had already been on the coaching staff for awhile but people always changed when power came to them. Coach expected a lot from him and he really hadn't delivered. He was too busy drinking and whoring his way through high school. But the man had been good to him, real good. He'd given him a home when Billy's relationship with Jackie had become too much to bear.
Living with the Taylors was like living in a cookie cutter fantasy. There was the crotchety father with the wild hair, the loving mother with plenty of attitude, the beautiful daughter and the weirdly cute baby. They were like one of those pictures that were always inside the photo frames until you inserted you own. But Tim hadn't wanted to insert his own family, he wanted theirs.
He'd known Julie. She was the blonde in the cafeteria always leaning over a book, her hair spilling out over her back and the table. She was the girl who'd given her dad a near on heart attack when she started dating the QB, who everyone knew would be too gutless to do anything. Truth be told, he really hadn't registered her existence at all until he moved in with her family. Even then she was quiet. He'd seen her firing on all cylinders though, stomping around, yelling at her parents to back off. He envied her that, her parents actually gave a rat's ass. But he liked her fire, before he hadn't really thought she had it in her.
For a short while he'd been her sort-of-brother and he liked it. He could have done without chasing off that Riley dude and the subsequent booting from the Taylor house but he'd liked other things; talking to her on the way home from school, snatching her fries at the Alamo Freeze, shielding her from the gazes of Matt Saracen. He knew she had flaws, the way he treated Matt for one. But who was he to judge? He'd treated girls like crap for years.
Did he resent her for not telling her father the truth? That she was drunk and he'd just plonked her on the bed? Hell no. She'd done what anyone would do, he was expendable. Well he was until she couldn't bear the unfairness of it all and 'fessed up. He knew she'd do it eventually. It would have been better had she done it before the many stair runs, laps and push ups but he could take it in his stride. He'd earned her respect and her father's too. That was valuable to him, which shocked him to the core. This girl with the sweeping blonde hair had endeared herself to him, just as little Gracie had. He had a family. Not really, but he knew what it was like to have one now, to experience it, to be included. All the Taylors had endeared themselves to him.
Once he was back in with Billy his life seemed to straighten out, he settled down and found the groove. He found himself looking to Julie as an example. He'd seen her in the library studying as her parents attended departmental meetings so he found himself joining her. For protection he had told her. She had screwed up her nose and asked –
"Protection, from what?"
"From the big bad wolves of Dillon High." He had smiled wolfishly at her and she snorted seeing the irony in the situation. She had punched him in the shoulder, like a sister would, and turned her attention to her homework. He did the same and before long, it was their routine.
Sitting next to each other, heads both bent over books, their attention fixed on the printed page or their inked words. Coach has smiled approvingly every time he'd come to pick up Jules, as he'd come to think of her. Coach was under the impression that Jules had taken him under her wing, probably to fly him somewhere near the stratosphere of a passing grade.
Tim has become part of their extended family in some sense. He'd even gone over one night when the babysitter had cancelled and the Taylor's were desperate to have a date night.
Sitting on the couch, bobbing Gracie around so she looked more scary than normal he wondered where Jules was.
"You know where she is, don't ya?" he sing-songed to the crazy eyed baby.
She burbled something in return and he brought her into his chest hoping the rhythm of his heartbeat may lull her to sleep. As the baby drifted off to slumber-land, he found himself thinking about Jules. He shook his head, careful not to disturb the infant. He'd found himself wondering about Jules a little more than what he would consider normal. He didn't really think about any girl in his life at all. He had with Lyla but that had just been messed up. Jackie wasn't an issue, he'd been thinking about Beau more. Well she was like a sister, he rationalised. It makes sense that I would wonder about her safety and well being.
"It makes perfect sense, doesn't it baby?" he murmured.
"What does?" a voice near his hair breathed. He looked at the baby incredulous and then realised that Jules was standing behind the couch, her head learning near his own. Her breath tickled the hair framing his ear, she'd heard his question to the bub.
"Nothing." He clammed up, that was freaking embarrassing. Jules sighed, quickly moving around the couch and flopping onto the couch next to him. He braced the baby, willing her not to wake up. "You don't seem surprised to see me here," he wondered.
Jules grinned. "Of course not, guess who recommended you to babysit when I refused to change my plans?" She broke into gales of laughter, holding her stomach beneath crossed arms as if she were trying to restrain the laughter from busting her gut. She didn't have a very attractive laugh. It wasn't a burble or a giggle, it was a loud guffaw that filled the room and churned him up like a tidal wave. When she saw him covering the baby's ears she tried to rein it in, which resulted in a very unladylike snort. That made him crack a smile. Jules Taylor snorts? He quickly got up and she broke into laughter again as she watched him try to walk smoothly to Gracie's room. He laid Gracie gently down in the cot, tucking the soft blanket around her. He could resist the urge to run his forefinger softly down her forehead and nose. Her skin was so soft and fragile. She was so breakable and the Taylor's trusted her with him, Jules had volunteered him. Warmth spread through his chest, this is what trust felt like? He decided he liked it, pressing the tip of the baby's nose quickly as he departed the pink room. He inched out of the door quietly and then broke into a normal gait down the hall to the lounge room.
Jules was still sitting on the couch, her feet had swung up to lay across it. The laughter had subsided and her cheek was burrowing into the back of the couch, her hand on the DVD remote. She lifted her legs as he approached. Long, tight clad legs, so unbelievably straight that he would have known she was a dancer with his eyes closed. He sat down next to her, not even considering the arm chair that was his alternative. As soon as he plunked his ass down, her legs swiftly followed him and spreading over his lap. He was confused. In any other situation he would assume she was hitting on him but she clearly wasn't. She hadn't even glanced at him, her attention resting solely on the movie that had started playing. He recognised the opening refrains as Dazed and Confused, she had good taste.
Tim sat there not knowing to do with his arms. He always knew what to do with his arms, he was Tim Freaking Riggins for fuck's sake. And yet there he sat with his arms glued to his side. After ten minutes he found it mighty uncomfortable and decided to chance resting his hands on her legs. She was impinging on his space after all. She didn't notice. Or he thought she hadn't until she drew her legs back, into her body, so she was in the fetal position. He sighed, thank goodness for that. She made him uncomfortable. A feat not managed by any female in his life.
Tim finally let air reach into his lungs allowing some languidness back into his body. Then he felt some tickling at his thigh and turned. Jules was shimmying into the couch further and tucking her cold toes under his thigh. She sent him a quick wink and then returned her attentions to a young and bloated looking Ben Affleck. She was completely unaffected by him? She was. She wasn't doing any of the normal carrying on he would normally see from the general female populous. He liked it. They were just comfortable. Well she was anyway. It was like she was the Tim Riggins in this situation and he was the self-conscious, uncertain, neurotic girl. With the exception that he wasn't interested in her, right?
Author's Note
It's been awhile since I have written and I am finding myself a little self-conscious about my writing. I have no idea where this story is going but hopefully the journey will be a blast.