Oh don't get too close to her.
She's not as quiet
As she seems.
She is a fierce storm of hellfire.
You wouldn't survive a brush
Of her lips.
Thomas and Dorothy arrived back at the bakery with a cheese toastie that Dorothy never got to try before. Dorothy placed the food down on the crates before clapping her hands and telling Thomas to stay put before rushing into the back door of the bakery.
It would clearly be too much to ask for Thomas to ever comply to anything and followed her in to the Kitchen of the bakery.
When he stepped through, Dorothy gave him a side-eyed glare that she didn't really mean and got on with what she was doing.
She rummaged around the larder and jumped out holding a box out in front of Thomas.
"...a box. Nice." Thomas hesitated, slightly confused with what was happening.
Dorothy scoffed, "no! It's a tea box, silly! Ms. P is investing in starting to make her own recipe of tea. I haven't tried it yet, you see, but I wanted to try it with you."
Thomas nodded and gestured for her to do her thing. He took a seat by the entrance of the kitchen in his regular spot.
He sat and watched Dorothy as she boiled the hot water then went over to the gramophone and picked out a Duke Ellington record and put it on. She had played this one a few times and Thomas determined that it was probably her favourite.
It started off with a small sway back and forth, which then led to humming. When the jazz tunes started picking up Dorothy joined in with the singing. Her voice was angelic, even though she was joking about. She made her voice low and added a rumble to it which made Thomas stare at her like she was insane. He also recalled it was the same kind of voice she'd use when she mocked him.
Soon enough she was floundering around the room, singing and dancing and giggling to her hearts content- all in her own little world.
Thomas watched on and noted: he didn't know what she was like before he'd met her, but he knew that whatever he was doing. He was doing right, she was happy. That's all Thomas needed.
Soon when the kettle started boiling properly, Dorothy took a breather and poured all the contents through the tea strainer.
Thomas watched the way her body curved and the way her head still swayed from side to side to the tune and her foot tapped to the beat.
He gazed on her curly copper blonde hair and he thought of the smell she carried with her. Vanilla and rose-water.
He thought about her eyes, her gorgeous deep grey and blue eyes. They looked like storms, but when Thomas looked closer, they were really just Caribbean oceans that he'd read about. They didn't shine bright, but they didn't need to. They made his heart jump and his stomach do somersaults.
Dorothy turned back around, her loose dress flowed in a circular fashion around her ankles. She had a bounce in her step, careful not to spill the tea, but failing slightly.
Thomas looked at her features: the curve of her lips; the subtle definition of her cheek bones; her eyes, oh, god those eyes.
And then Thomas' breath hitched to the sound of the glasses clinking on the table. Thomas swallowed something thick and warm. He felt his heart stop and his stomach churn. He felt like he was sick. He felt like he was nauseous.
No, not that.
He felt like he was in love.
He froze in his seat, his eyes wide and staring up at the girl in front of him, as she smiled the widest smile he ever knew.
He loved her. He loved her hard.
——
Thomas was in a daze for the rest of their meeting. His mind couldn't process anything and his body wouldn't move.
"Something wrong, Bubs?" Dorothy shoved a second piece of the cheese melt into her mouth. She sighed in content. Only moments earlier, she declared it was the best food she'd ever eaten.
And as she stuffed it in her mouth, Thomas still loved her. With adoration and admiration.
"Hm? Oh no. It's alright, Bons." Thomas waved his hands.
"You haven't touched you Cheese toastie." Dorothy frowned.
"Oh yes. 'M not hungry today."
Dorothy's frown deepened further. The sight made Thomas have strange, unwanted feelings well up inside of his throat. He slowly picked up a piece of the toastie and took a bite. Dorothy's frown immediately softened into a grateful smile.
Thomas didn't like the fact that his mind was beating around the bush. He was never one to hesitate, it would be in protest to start now.
"Bonny- Dorothy, I think- I think I'm-" in love with you. Is what Thomas would have said if a small boulder hadn't crashed into his legs.
Upon further inspection, the boulder was actually his younger brother, Finn. Thomas stared down, mouth agape, still mid-sentence, until Dorothy spoke up, "hi Finn, what're you doing 'ere?"
"It's the shop, Miss Dotty-Anne. The betting shop. It's been- it's been attacked!"
Without another word Thomas was up on his feet. He was marching down the alleyway in a full paced sprint.
Dorothy waited a moment out of pure shock before bundling Finn in her arms and running after him.
——
Dorothy arrived moments later after Thomas' arrival. She was out of breath and coughed slightly when she put Finn back on the floor.
There were people in complete disarray outside of the entrance. Dorothy pushed past them and went straight into the shop that she'd never been to before.
She walked through what looked to be a living area and through two big double doors. But before she could see what was inside, she was stopped by John coming round the corner.
"Woah there, Dotty. You don't need to see in there. Not a pretty sight." John blocked her view as she tried to look around his shoulder.
She ducked from side to side and for a moment forgot her mission as she felt like she was playing a strange game.
For a moment she got the slip on him and what she saw would be ingrained in her memory for the rest of her days.
She couldn't see the face of whoever was in the room, but she knew instantly who it was. She cried out. She screeched the sound of a banshee and the sound of raw heartbreak.
There. Head on the table, surrounded by blood- was Dean Monroe. Her father.
——
OH SHIT GUYS. This is an emotional ROLLERCOASTER of a chapter.
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