Disclaimer: I don't own anything here (except for Al) and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.
Friday night and South Padre Island was getting busy. Tim had a nice buzz going but he wasn't completely blitzed. He was enjoying being out of his room, although he still wasn't feeling much like having company. So when the beach-front bar got too busy, he took George and headed out for another walk on the beach.
The sun had just set but the air was still hot and humid. Tim found a bench and sat down in the middle. George jumped up and flopped down next to him, resting his head on Tim's leg and looking up at him with hopeful amber eyes.
Tim rubbed George's ears, running his fingers over the soft fur. Like velvet. Like that blue dress Al wore to Mindy's birthday party. He sighed and shook his head. If he had to pinpoint the moment it all started to unravel, it would have been that night, after Walt had arrived at the door.
If Tim could change anything, it would be how he handled that night. Instead of retreating inside of himself, he should have talked to Al. Maybe if he'd done that, everything would have been different.
"Cute dog," said a woman as she sat down next to Tim.
She had Tyra's body, tall and lean with legs that seemed to go on forever, and Lyla's big brown doe eyes. Her hair, a shade darker than Lyla's, fell loose around her shoulders. Her mouth, with its full lips and playful smile, was all Al. She was wearing a bikini and cotton wrap that was translucent enough to be practically invisible.
She made small talk with Tim for a few minutes, asking questions about George. She also introduced herself, but her name, something girly that ended in an -eee sound, was instantly forgotten.
"So he's friendly then?" she asked with a flirty smile.
"Very."
She leaned across Tim and rubbed George's side lightly. When she pulled her hand back, she let it rest on Tim's upper thigh. He looked down at her hand, then looked up to focus on her eyes. He could see the rest of his evening unfolding in those eyes and knew it was all there for the taking.
He felt hypnotized. His defenses had been worn down to the point where he could not resist temptation any longer. It had just been getting easier and easier to say yes, especially since it had been so long since he'd had these random hook-ups. Just like falling back into drinking had been effortless, it was easy to fall into this pattern with women, picking up his old vices like they were old friends.
His body seemed disconnected from his mind as he kissed her. His hands grabbed her shoulders, her skin still hot from being in the sun all day. She used both of her hands to push the hair off of his face and then pulled him closer, kissing him more insistently. His hands slid down her back, so much hot skin, it was even more intoxicating that beer or whiskey.
Tim broke off the kiss and stood up, a little unsteady on his feet. The girl stood up too.
"You want to go for a walk or a swim or something?" she said in a throaty voice.
Tim nodded, then looked at George. "I've just got to put the dog in my room real quick."
"I can go with you," she offered.
Tim shook his head. The last thing he wanted was a girl in his room. Experience had taught him it was better to be able to leave afterwards, than to have to wait for someone else to leave.
"That's okay. I'll be right back."
The girl leaned forward and kissed him, one finger tracing the waistband of his shorts in a way that made him shiver.
"Don't leave me waiting too long," she said.
"I won't."
Tim headed back to his room in long strides, not wanting to run, but wanting to get back quickly, before she changed her mind. He loaded George into his crate, turned on the TV to give the dog some company, and then went to the door.
He put his hand on the doorknob and open the door slowly, then closed it. His hand kept his hand on the doorknob, one part of his mind willing him to open the door again while the other part told him to stay where he was. He knew what would happen if he walked out that door. He'd be taking a bad decision and making it a thousand times worse, which had always been his speciality.
Tim leaned his forehead against the door, pressing up against the rough wood. The weight of what he had done and what he was considering doing crashed down on him. He felt like he might just finally lose it, might completely break down.
He stood at the door until his legs grew tired. Finally, his decision became clear. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't walk out that door. He sighed, walked over to let George out of the crate and then sat down on the edge of the bed.
He picked up his phone and turned it over in his hands, preparing himself for the call that he knew he should have made a week ago.