All Because of an Accident|

0.81

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Tiana & Polyamory
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IT WAS RATHER awkward the whole twenty-three minutes I was forced to sit there and watch the two argue.

Tommy and Aidan no doubt had a history together, the amount of sexual tension between the two overwhelming me.

Every time Aidan would spit out a harsh insult towards her she would look up at him with a smirk or bite on her bottom lip and vice versa; Aidan reacting the same way when she cursed him out.

I would have delved deeper into their relationship but didn't have an opportunity to ask when Tommy had hissed something out which caused Aidan to seethe in anger, rushing out the room.

Tommy sighed, her perfectly manicured fingers tracing small circular figures on her temples.

I shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to interrupt the stiff silence but also wanting to sit down soon, my feet in unbearable pain.

She soon turned back towards me, the irritated frown on her lips was replaced with a loose smile.

"So, how far along are we and have you given any thought to names?" She mused, disregarding what had just happened. I stare at her slightly shocked before composing myself.

"Oh, about three months now." I responded, taking note of the glances she gave the dark stairway Aidan hand vanished into. "No names, though."

"Wow, really? Maybe I do need to get out of here more..." She mumbled out more to herself, eyes slightly rolling back as she got lost in thought. It didn't take long for her to regain focus, grinning at me. "For names I'm thinking: Tiana!"

I gave her a smile, her hand clasping mine as the decorative rings on her fingers pressed on me.

"Oh, and for a boy you should do Theon or maybe Tavien. Those are my brothers names." She shot out, giving me a bright smile.

"Your parents were really into the T's, huh?" I joked, causing her to release a light giggle.

"Like you would not believe."

+>*<+

"So... Aidan's something, hm?" I began, trying and quickly failing at attempting to bring up the topic.

Tommy looked back at me from her position in front of freshly cleaned tools, the once white rag she had used completely stained vermillion.

She insisted we move to another room, claiming that she 'couldn't keep someone like me in a place like this,' whatever that meant.

You could imagine my surprise when she brought me to a new room, a modern style encasing the room as extravagant paintings that must have cost thousands hung on the wall.

I sat on a white sofa, the glass coffee table and the black rug underneath it being the only things separating us as she stood at a wall. At the wall there were hooks, specifically used for tools and weapons, all over the surface of the wall.

"I know you want to so just ask." She said calmly, going back and neatly placing a miniature saw back on its place on the wall. She turned around, holding a knife in her palm as she gave me a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Nah, I'm good." I mumble, the once bloody mess on the tool engraved into my memory. She gave me a confused look before looking down at the knife, quickly catching onto my reasoning.

"Oh, sorry. Sometimes I forget I'm holding these; they're like an extension of my arm or something." She chided, placing it down. "But seriously, ask. I don't mind."