Bedmate

eight

~ T H E N ~

“Tom, quit it! Oh my God,” Sarah whined as he continued to cling onto us, an arm around both our shoulders as he obnoxiously sang High For This by The Weeknd, even though it was neither playing inside the house nor was he high. 

I laughed and finally managed to duck under his arm and twist out of his hold, his singing faltering only slightly before he tightened his arm around Sarah’s shoulder and kissed her sloppily on the cheek, causing the boys around us to laugh in encouragement.

“Thomas Goldberg. Let me go right this instant!” She snapped causing me to grin widely at the hurt look on his face, staring at her as if he was a kicked puppy.

“Ooh, better let her go Tommy; she just used your whole name,” I teased making Sarah scrunch her nose up in annoyance and for Tom to finally let her go with a pout.

She walked off straight away.

“You made her mad,” Jackson whispered with wide eyes in mock-fear.

“She’s going to come back with a gun,” Oliver, a friend of ours, added in the same voice as Jack.

Tom’s frown deepened, eyes sliding between our group who all said the same kind of things teasingly before his familiar grey eyes finally fell onto me. “You don’t think she’s mad at me, do you?” he asked, voice low and pleading as his glazed over eyes studied me seriously.

I did my best not to laugh. “No, Tommy,” I forced a genuine smile as I slapped his cheek lightly, “Of course not.”

He grinned at me, relieved, and then kissed me on the cheek quickly, landing only millimetres away from my mouth and causing me to cringe with a laugh.

He was so wasted.

“But, you know… I wouldn’t go anywhere near her tonight,” I added as he pulled away, “You know, just to be sure.”

He nodded in sudden agreement, eyes wide before a sudden commotion took our attention away, the sound of screams and shouts meeting my ears and causing me to turn around in surprise.

There was a fight.

“Hey,” Tom grinned suddenly as Jackson and the rest of the boys got off the porch to get a closer look at the fight, “Isn’t that Storm?” Tom asked squinting slightly into the dark of the night just as my eyes fell on the said boy.

“Oh shit,” I hissed jumping off the porch. “Stay here,” I threw over my shoulder to Tom who looked more than happy to stay where he was, leaning against the porch beam with his eyes trained on the huge circle of people that was now doubling in numbers.

I swore continuously and cursed the boy with golden eyes until I’d somehow managed to shove my way to the front of the circle, using my short height to my advantage. By then both boys were already bleeding and on the ground, fists swinging and insults tossed around like nothing.

It was like a typical scene from a book or movie, where not one person was trying to stop them but the protagonist who knew one of the fighters. What they forgot to add, however, was that watching someone fight – even if it was one of the most attractive boys you knew – will always be ugly.

It was ugly and raw and scary as hell.

Especially when the said boy was the one currently winning, sat on top of the other guy with his fists pounding into his face.

It wasn’t until someone suddenly shoved me forward by accident  that I realised what the hell was happening and before I knew it I was striding toward them, screaming something at them over the cheering and the music and the encouragements. Goddamn the encouragements.