Angie was too late. Too damn late for what was probably a pivotal moment in her life.
She'd finally reported Collins and spent hours explaining how the teacher had made sure not to leave any traces. She just hoped the police believed her and would actually manage to find some evidence.
By the time she was done, Kay had come over to pick her up and took her out to lunch so she could calm down and pull herself together. When she was finally done, she went to see Tom. Except he'd already made bail and was no longer there. And she had no idea where to find him or how to contact him. She'd totally screwed up. She shouldn't have gone to lunch.
And now, it was already Thursday and she had no idea if he would show up for their dance practice. So she did the only thing she could do. Wondered the hallways of the school hoping to find him. She really needed to ask for his schedule.
"Hey, Angie."
She stopped and turned around. "Billy, thank God. Where's Tom?"
Billy hesitated a little. "I don't really know. But I do know where Jimmy is and he probably knows where Tom is. He's in the music room."
Jimmy was in the music room? "Thanks so much. Is he okay, though?"
"Well..." Billy drummed his fingers on his chin. "I'm not sure. He seems fine, but something like this isn't that easy to get over, not even for someone like Tom who just takes everything in stride. I'm a little worried that he can't just walk this one off."
She nodded, her stomach tightening into an uncomfortable knot.
"He needs you, Angie. And I think... " He heaved a deep sigh. "I think you kind of owe it to him to be there." He didn't wait for an answer and walked away leaving her feeling even more dejected.
Even carefree, cheerful Billy saw how bad this was. And he was right. Tom had gotten in trouble because of her. And even if she'd never asked him to step in, she couldn't pretend that she hadn't hoped for it, hadn't enjoyed it. She had to fix this.
Determined to make things right, she headed for the music room. Once she reached the door, she froze. Piano music flitted from inside. Sad, emotional, over complicated piano music. She opened the door silently.
Jimmy sat in front of the piano, playing. About six sheets of music were spread out in front of him, but he barely glanced at them. Angie was caught by a sudden desire to either run away and leave him alone or grab some popcorn. Because his posture, the slight crease between his eyebrows, the way he leaned over the keyboard... This wasn't piano practice. He really felt the music, played from the heart.
She remembered what Tom told her about Jimmy hurting too and needing to go out and date. And all she could think of was what had happened? Who'd hurt him so much? And what could she do to fix it?
He finished the song and took his hands off the keyboard. Then he leaned his elbows on it and sunk his face in his hands. Angie knocked on the jamb, feeling even crappier for interrupting, but Tom was a more pressing issue than her embarrassment.
Jimmy turned to her, all serene smile, as if he hadn't looked completely heartbroken a mere second ago. "Hey, Angie."
"Um, can I come in?"
"Sure." He patted the bench next to him then busied himself with gathering the sheet music.
She walked to him warily, watching his every move. He should be pissed at her. But he didn't seem like it. As she reached him, he bent over to slide the sheets in his backpack. And that's when she saw his tatto. Two Chinese letters on a flaming, narrow parchment, etched on his skin where his neck met his back.
"Wow, looks really cool."
"What?" he asked, looking up at her. Once he did, the tattoo disappeared under his t-shirt.
"Your tattoo. Does it mean something or is it something random like noodle soup?"
He laughed and indicated that she should sit down again, so she did. "You know, I actually checked to make sure I didn't get noodle soup. It means rebirth."
Her heart tightened and she fought the impulse to ask when he got it. A much stupider question came out instead. "Why rebirth?"
"To remind myself that no matter the stupid shit we do, we can always rise above it." He smiled, but it was bitter. "Teenagers are stupid, Angie, putting so much heart into the wrong things. But as long as we're still breathing, there is hope. No matter how we burn."
She nodded, the knot in her chest even tighter. He was a fighter who was going through so much and it made her feel horrible that some of it was her fault. "I'm really sorry."
"For what?" he asked surprised.
"For setting you up with Kay and she stood you up. For getting Tom in trouble..."
"No," he said, raising one hand to stop her. "I don't mind that your friend stood me up. I don't want to date anyone right now and it was nice to spend an evening out by myself. And Tom... What he did was his call, not yours. Should you have anticipated it? I'm not sure how well you know Tom. The thing is..." He sighed, but there was a smirk on his face. "Next time, tell him. But also make sure he's tied to something and has the time to think before he acts."
Angie giggled. She really liked Jimmy. He was something else. And she'd been a little scared that he'd be pissed at her for what happened to Tom. Instead he was being wise and poking fun at how impulsive his brother was. He was trying to make her feel better. Why?
"Do your know where Tom is? We have practice today and I wanted to know if he'd come."
"Yeah, he will. He's at work right now. Just wait for him. I'm sure he'll want to see you, too."
She nodded and stood. "Thanks. For telling me. And for not getting pissed."
"Life's too short to get pissed," Jimmy answered and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Just... Play nice, okay?"
She nodded though she had no idea what he meant. And his words plagued her mind as she spent the time before practice in the library, trying to get some homework done. She had no idea what to do about biology. She didn't know if there was any way to fix her grade now or if Collins would even show up for the next class. It made her nervous and itchy.
Seeing Tom made her nervous and itchy too, but for a different reason. Would he be pissed at her? She would be. She'd give him hell if it were the other way around, if she'd gone to jail because of him and he wouldn't have visited. Half of her entertained the thought of skipping practice and just crawling inside a hole to hide.
But at four o'clock, she picked up her stuff and headed for the dance studio even if her legs shook with every step she took. There was no way she was not seeing Tom.
When she got there, he was already dressed and was fiddling with the music player, putting on different songs. In the air tonight by Phil Collins filled the air, giving Angie a sense of foreboding.
"Hey," she squeaked.
Tom turned to her and for the first time, she was glad he had the sunglasses on because she wasn't sure she could take his stare and the possibility of reproach or disappointment in his eyes.
"Hey," he answered, his voice blank.
Shit. She'd hoped she could hang on to his tone for her next move, but he'd given her nothing. "Ready for dance practice?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you freaking kidding me? Not visiting me in jail is one thing, but pretending it never happened?"
Ah, crap. "I don't want to pretend it never happened. I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable. And I wanted to come see you, but by the time I was done with the police, you'd already made bail."
He smiled weakly. "So I gather you finally reported the asshole."
She nodded, relieved that he wasn't angry with her. Until he scowled like he wanted to bloody murder her.
"Why didn't you do it earlier?"
"Because I didn't have proof."
"So you had proof now?" His tone was merciless.
She bristled. "No. And if you hadn't decided to punch his face in, I wouldn't have had to try to explain why I had no proof."
"Oh, I'm so sorry that my rash actions made you finally stand up to your abuser."
"I was standing up to him before."
"Really?" Tom marched to her and stopped inches away. "How? By not letting him touch you physically but letting him turn you into a mess? By enabling him by not telling anyone? By locking yourself up?"
"Don't yell at me!" She shoved his chest, but he didn't budge. "You have no idea what it's like to feel so powerless!"
"No idea?" He took one step closer. "Do you have any idea how powerless I feel right now? Seeing you be a victim when you should be a fighter? Knowing that I've fucked everything up?"
"You didn't! I fucked everything up." Tears filled her eyes and she tried her best not to let them fall. "It's just because of me that this is happening to you. I shouldn't have told you--"
He groaned and moved away, his fists clenched. "No. No, no, no!" He wheeled to face her. "Your mistake was not telling me. It was not telling me or anyone else sooner. You let him turn you into a victim. You let him make you feel powerless. You enabled him."
"That didn't give you the right to screw your whole future!"
"Screw my future! You were being abused!"
"And why is that more important to you than your own life?" she yelled. "I swear to God, Tom, you're horrible at setting your priorities."
"My life, my priorities," he said between his teeth. "And neither you nor Jimmy can change that. You can't control me. Learn to live with that."
"I don't want to control you. I'm not your mother!" The tears decided to pour down her cheeks anyway. "I want you to stop being such a damn hero!"
Tom marched to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She stumbled back and her back hit against the mirror.
"Don't do this to me. Don't you dare cry. Because you're not a victim. You're a fighter and it's all going to be alright."
"Alright?" She slapped his chest. "You're out on bail. You could be going back to jail because of me! Why are you such an impulsive idiot?"
He laughed and leaned harder against her. "I'm an impulsive idiot? You're honestly blaming me for all this?"
"Yes! If you could've just held your shit together for thirty freaking seconds--"
The words got stuck in her throat as Tom's body pressed full weight against hers and his lips landed on her neck right behind her ear. She had no idea what she wanted to say, what they were arguing about. Her body was on fire. As he traced kisses down her neck, she let out a moan. What the hell was happening? Her head was spinning, her heart thumped loudly and one word swirled obsessively around her brain. More.
She needed more. She wanted more. She sunk her hands into his hair, feeling the softness of it as she pulled him harder against her, dying to feel him.
His mouth traced her jaw, all the way to the other ear. Her body was shaking under his as her hands ran down his back, snuck under his t-shirt to feel the heat of his skin. He was burning up, like wildfire, spreading and devouring everything in its path, and all she wanted was to go down in flames with him.
His fingers trailed on her ribs, on her hips and finally, he cupped her ass and lifted her off the floor, making her curl around him. God, she wanted to kiss him, but his mouth was still on the delicate skin of her neck, and she liked it there. On her neck, trailing down, on her shoulder, her collarbone... back up her neck, under her chin. Everywhere he touched her, he left scorch marks. She dug her nails into his back and was pleased to feel his muscles tensing.
"Angie," he whispered in her ear, the warmth of it sending shivers through her.
She just moaned as an answer and his fingers dug deeper into her flesh. He leaned his forehead against her shoulder and it suddenly wasn't enough anymore. She took his face and raised it. Their noses touched and she couldn't look away from his lips.
"No, don't," he said, his voice strained and raspy.
"Huh?" she asked dazed.
He put her down, and his hands moved to her face, cupping her cheeks. "Don't kiss me. Don't ever kiss me first."
"Why not?" This was beyond weird. After all the touching, a simple kiss was one step back.
"Because it's dangerous. And because I really am an impulsive idiot." He pulled away from her. "I need to take it slow."
This wasn't right. With his heat gone, she was much too cold. And she didn't understand what was going on. "Wasn't I the one setting the pace?"
To her satisfaction, he leaned towards her again, trapping her between his arms, her back against the mirror. "Trust me," he whispered. "If we kiss now, you have absolutely no word in what happens next." And he pulled back again, turning away from her this time.
Her lower lip trembled as she watched him turning off the music and packing his backpack. "But don't you..." She couldn't say it. She couldn't ask him if he didn't want her.
His back tensed. "Too much, Angie. I want this too damn much. So much that I'm pretty sure I'll lose my head like the impulsive idiot I am and you deserve better than that. Much better than me."
The heat seeped out of her, leaving her frozen and confused. But she could see it. She could totally see him losing it, see herself giving in because she wanted him too. And then they'd do something stupid, something they were not ready for. Against a mirror in a school dance studio.
No. Not like that. "We both deserve better than this," she whispered. "But not better than each other." There was no better for her.
Tom smiled, though she could tell he was still on edge. "Sweet. Not true, but sweet. Needless to say dance practice is canceled for today. I'll see you tomorrow." And without throwing her a second glance, he was out the door.
Angie stared at the closed door, trying to understand what had just happened. The more she was out from under his intoxicating presence, then more she understood what they were doing. What they'd started. They were fighting and then all of a sudden they were all over each other, somehow getting extremely intimate without even kissing. The mirror was misty from the heat of their bodies.
Tom was right. They were losing control and a kiss... one simple kiss, that first act of showing someone that you are interested... It would've been their undoing. Because they were way past that. They were at the stage where one kiss was a trigger for what they'd both avoided saying. Sex. They'd been one kiss away from sex.
Angie groaned and buried her face in her hands. What the hell was happening to her? Why didn't any of this feel wrong?
And as she looked at herself in the misty mirror, she asked herself the honest question. "Am I in love with Tom?"
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Yes, update because I'm too damn nervous about this chapter. Because it's sudden and probably too much, but that's how Tom and Angie work.
So... Thoughts? On their argument, on what happened afterwards? On what happens next?
The next update will be Monday if I actually manage to write the next chapter or Thursday at the latest. There are five chapters left, so all aboard the drama pony.