Author's Note: You guys are fantastic! I am so glad that you are enjoying this story so far. I am loving the tension between the two. It is too much fun to write and puts me in mind of my other fic 'Rescue Me.' Hopefully, I can live up to the wonderful moments that were in that story. Hope you guys have a wonderful day and I truly hope you enjoy. Hugs to you all. Please R&R. Angel422.
"Please tell me you're not here to beat me up." Tommy groaned miserably up at me from the bed—his eyes shut tightly as he rolled from his stomach onto his back. I sighed as I walked over to the side of the mattress before taking a seat—hesitating a moment before reaching out my fingers and grabbing his forearm. He groaned again, and I knew then that by challenging him tonight I had pushed him further than he normally went even when working out. I winced before scooting back further onto the bed. He really made it so hard to hate him sometimes.
"Now, let me just inform you with very firm resolve before you make any wise cracks or smart, unintellectual remarks that this does not mean that I, in any shape or form, feel any differently about you than I did before. All it does is confirm the fact that I do have a conscience." I commented bitingly while standing up to grab the bottle of monoi oil I had smelled on his skin earlier before taking a seat again and grabbing his arm. I couldn't help but laugh as I poured a little of the residue into my palm before rubbing my hands together and laying them gently against his arm again—working the stuff in slow, firm circles into the now tight muscles located there. I felt my heart begin to beat a little too rapidly. Tom cringed.
"I feel like I'm a boxing coach medicating his or her boxer after a fight." I remarked in a low tone as I found myself chuckling at the thought. I saw a hint of a smile flit over Tom's face at the thought of that image as well. His eyes remained shut as I worked, and I was glad because I think if he had watched me work that I would have, without a doubt, lost my nerve. He sat up suddenly as if the pain demanded he not lay down anymore, and I sat next to him—still working until I could finally feel a little softening in the muscle tissue of the arm I was massaging at the moment. Tom sighed as I suddenly ran a finger over an old scar on his shoulder. I hesitated as I touched it again. If there was something I knew well, it was that all physical scars told a story—gave you a deeper look into the person that carried them. It made me curious.
"How did you get that scar?" I asked quietly as Tommy suddenly opened his eyes to look down at his shoulder before looking over at me.
"I fell off of a horse when I was a boy. The horse reared and clipped my shoulder with his hoof." Tommy stated softly as I quit moving under the intensity of his stare. I suddenly felt like I was suffocating. Tom winced as he leaned over to touch a small white mark near the base of my neck at my nape that was barely even noticeable to the human eye.
"How did you get yours?" He asked slowly as I almost closed my eyes at the sensations his fingers caused my skin. And then I almost laughed at the sudden memory.
"On a family vacation. I was seven and Jamie came with us that year to the farmhouse. Sadie had won another award—something to do with horses and jumping fences. I had written a song, but when I tried playing it for everyone, they ignored me and suggested we take Sadie out to celebrate instead. I ran away that night—or at least ran away the way a seven-year-old would. I packed a bag and hid in a tree. I slipped trying to climb back down it both cold and hungry the next morning and landed on my head. I had to have three stitches—which was big for a seven-year-old." I replied on a small laugh as Tommy looked away from me out into his room beyond.
"How did you get the scar on your forehead?" I asked gallantly as he shrugged.
"Believe it or not, that was in a boxing match. It was a hobby of mine when I was a lot younger." He explained as I nodded before picking up the lotion again. His hand suddenly landed on the skin of my stomach right underneath my swimsuit top and right above my navel. I dropped the bottle without meaning to in shock as electricity shot through my body.
"And that one?" Tommy asked on a whisper as I looked down at his slightly tanned palm against my white skin. I gulped.
"I got that one when Jamie, Kat, and I decided it would be cool to start a cult—the initiation being we had to sleep on the grave of a famous person preferably a musician—Jamie's idea. You know how I am about horror movies. I chose my grave—only to panic when I heard something in the cemetery. I fell over a headstone trying to run back to Jamie's house." I remarked on a laugh as Tommy shook his head before chuckling. I watched him smile silently for a moment before getting involved in our little game of 'figure this out' that we seemed to be playing right now.
"This one?" I asked as he looked down at the hand I now had on his chest. His eyes met mine as I stood my ground—refusing to be intimidated by the heat I now saw in his gaze.
"A motorcycle accident." He remarked as he lifted up my hand to touch a scar at the tip of my finger. He didn't even have to ask me how I got it. I answered his unspoken question without thought.
"Cooking—or attempting to. Mom gave up trying to teach me after I tried opening my fingers up with the can opener instead of the can." I replied whimsically—only to find myself staring in shock at Tommy as he suddenly kissed the tips of my fingers—as if by doing so he was erasing the memories. My head swam. I couldn't do this. What were we doing? My heart was frozen. I almost stood up as Tommy suddenly placed his palm over my heart.
"And this scar?" He asked softly, silently implying my wounded heart as I just pulled away from him about the same time I felt a piece of ice chip away at my chest.
"I should go." I replied instead as I headed for the door. I had just placed my hand on the doorknob when I heard Tommy sit up more in the bed.
"You are my best friend. You did know that right?" Tom asked as I let my palm slip off the knob before turning back toward him. He was staring at me silently. He was lying to me. Kwest was his best friend. Although something in the back of my head told me he wouldn't be comparing scars with Kwest. But if I meant that much to him, why hadn't he shared with me the reasons he left? Why had left the way he did? He seemed to realize my dilemma.
"All people make mistakes, Jude." He whispered in a low tone as I shrugged before doing something else that surprised me. I walked over to him, sat down next to him, and wrapped my arms around his waist before laying my head against his chest. When was the last time we had hugged like this? Was it when I had finished the third album? Of course, it was. My eyes drooped as I listened to his heartbeat—relishing the fact that we were at least trying to be friends. It had been a long day. His hand settled into my hair as he hugged me to him.
"I'm sorry." I heard him whisper just as I managed to drift off to sleep.