Thomas & January (Sleepless #2)

Thomas & January (Sleepless #2) Page 25

I paced the room a bit, pulling my t-shirt over my head as I thought quickly about my plan. I made the mistake of peering her direction. She looked like she could eat me whole. “Don’t.” I laughed hysterically. “Just don’t, January.”

“I’m sorry,” she said as her attractive blush painted across her cheeks.

“Oh, God!” I said, panicked. I ran my hands through my hair over and over. “I’m a glutton for punishment! I’m a masochist! You’ve made me a masochist, J! I’ve been a lot of things but never a masochist.”

“You are not a masochist, dorkwad.”

“I am! I am because I’d rather suffer through this night and every night after with you by my side, so unbelievably attractive and so sexy as hell, and not be able to do anything than not have you here. That’s masochism, January.”

She sat up a little, her t-shirt pooling around her thighs. I had to look away. “And who said we couldn’t do anything?”

“Me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a freaking virgin, January.”

“So?”

“Listen, you don’t just give that shit away especially to guys like me.”

“I happen to think you’re a pretty neat guy. Oh, yeah, and there’s the little fact that I’m in love with you.”

Those words soothed my aching, edgy soul and my breathing instantly steadied. “I love you too,” I told her.

“Then come here. I have something to give you.”

“No, I can’t, January. I can’t.”

“You don’t want it?” she asked, the hurt outlining her entire face.

I fell on the bed beside her. “January, I want it, probably more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life but not like this.”

“Then how?” she asked softly, her hand reaching up to rest on my face.

I took her left hand with my right and looked down at it, thumbing her ring finger. Her gaze followed mine and she realized what I’d meant. She nodded slightly, smiled sweetly and we settled into bed.

She, wrapped in my arms, and I, wrapped around the third finger of that left hand.

Chapter Ten

The Song Remains the Same

Thomas

The next morning, after we woke and I got January back into her room, I went to tell her we should get going and accidentally caught the tail end of a telephone conversation. That wasn’t all that bad and if I’d left as any normal person would have, giving her privacy, I’d probably be the happiest jackass this side of the Mississippi, but I didn’t do that. No, in a typical asshole Thomas move, I stuck around to listen in. That was bad, for many, many reasons and a move I was going to pay dearly for. Believe me.

“We’ll be in Stockholm tomorrow.” I heard her say over the phone, making my heart race and my skin panic. No, she’s not. She’s not.

 “Probably around three in the afternoon by the looks of it,” she continued, then laughed. “No, he doesn’t suspect a thing.” My heart sank to my feet. “No, don’t even bother.” Don’t bother? “All right, love you too. Uh-huh. Tomorrow then.”

That’s when I discovered that I was a gullible bastard.

January

“We’ll be in Stockholm tomorrow,” I told my sister July.

“What time? So I know to tell Dad.”

 “Probably around three in the afternoon by the looks of it.”

She paused. “Hey, has Tom figured out what a massive dork ass you are yet?”

“No, he doesn’t suspect a thing,” I teased, folding a scrap piece of paper in my lap.

I heard the front door open and close and knew it was my father returning home from work. He would expect his usual hourlong conversation if he found out I was on the phone, but I knew Tom was ready to leave soon. I reminded myself to call him later the next day.

“Do you have time to talk to Dad, actually? He just walked in,” July asked.

“No, don’t even bother.”

“Okay, I love you, January. Be careful over there. Should I tell Dad tomorrow then?

“All right, love you too. Uh-huh. Tomorrow then.”

Thomas

I should have told January that I saw Jonah the night before but I didn’t. I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess I was still letting a small piece of my insecurity control the rational side of my brain when it came to that fact. Truthfully, I wanted to know how he was finding out where we were and as much as I hated to admit it, her phone call made my heart ache. I hated to jump to conclusions, but that’s exactly what I was doing.

 “I called The Great Remember up this morning,” I told her stoically as we made our way to see them. “Did I tell you that?” I asked, studying her reaction.

“Oh? Well, that’s a good idea, I suppose. What’d you say?” she asked, peering up into my face. She was so beautiful and innocent-looking. You're reading too much into that call, Tom.

“I just let them know our names, who we were, and that they could expect to see us after the show.”

“You didn’t tell them about Jonah?” she asked.

“No, should I have?”

“I don’t think so. I was just wondering.”

She grabbed my hand as we walked to the venue. Her thin fingers felt so cool to the touch, I absently brought them to my mouth and blew on them. She wouldn’t betray you. I told myself. You can’t fake sincerity like that...But, maybe she’s just playing you. Maybe she’s Jonah’s inside man...No fucking way! I argued with myself. January would never do that. She’s not capable. I’d bet my life on it.

“Hey,” she said, breaking me from my thoughts. “What’s got you so worried?”

I forced a smile. “Just thinking.”

The Great Remember was phenomenal live, but I was so distracted with watching January then watching out for Jonah, I almost missed the potential.

“Shouldn’t we, you know?” January asked me as I nursed my beer.

“Huh?”

“Meet them?”

“Oh shit. Yeah.”

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” I dodged. “Hey! Richard!” I said, catching the attention of the lead.

He looked up at us approaching and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Tom. This is January. We’re from Seven. I spoke to you earlier on the phone.”

“Oh, God. You really came,” Richard said, a thick South African accent crowding his words. “Guys! Guys! This is Tom and January. They’re from the label I told you about!”

The rest of the band clamored around us and we spent hours with them, they agreed to travel to Dublin from Rome to meet with Jason as he was coming to Europe a bit earlier before attending the Windmill Festival. The Great Remember were going to be huge. So, why didn’t I feel any sense of triumph?

The next morning, I grabbed my duffel as well as January’s.

“Good morning,” January greeted me.

“‘Mornin’.”

“Oh! Oh, dear!” January suddenly exclaimed.

My head whipped around toward her. “What’s wrong?” I asked, dropping our bags to the floor. My hands searched her body for injuries.

“Oh, it’s just, I don’t know how to tell you this...”

“What?” I asked, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

She eyed me carefully, with pity in her eyes. “Follow me, I need to show you something.”

I picked our bags up and followed her into the room, prepared to hear her admit to everything, to hear she couldn’t take the burden of the guilt. I sat at the edge of her bed after abandoning the bags on the floor. I looked up at her when the door clicked shut.

“What did you need to show me?” I asked solemnly.

“This,” she whispered, taking my face in her hands and kissing me harshly.

And like a moth to a flame, I grabbed her and brought her to my body, bringing her on top of me as we laid back on her bed. I kissed her back like there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow, like I wouldn’t get the chance to kiss her like that again.

She stopped me and brought her face mere inches above mine. “Tom,” she said.

I closed my eyes briefly. “Yeah?”

“Whatever it is that’s bothering you. Stop it. You’ll get through it. We’ll get through it.”

She kissed me again and we made out like that for an hour. I could have done it all day with her. She did love me. She had to. It was in the way she breathed in my mouth when she kissed me, the way she grabbed my shoulders to get as close to me as possible, in the way she reassured me that we’d get through whatever was bothering me. She had no idea the magnitude of my troubles but she said "we’d get through it." There was no way she could betray me. She loved me. She loves me, I kept repeating to myself.

“I think we missed our train,” she said behind closed eyes, still inching her way up my neck.

“I don’t care,” I told her. “We’ll book another room here and go straight to the Windmill Festival tomorrow.”

We laid like that the rest of the day talking and making me forget the telephone call...sort of.

Because seeds of doubt are one of those things. They fester and burrow and feed off uncertainties until they’ve grown into one massive tree of shades and shadows that hover over all you've known confidently as the truth. The leaves rustle and whisper in your ear all the everythings you wished to God weren’t true and they are unrepentant, determined to convince you that the doubt is out to get you. And although you scream, “Enough!” Ready to chop that damn tree down, they've somehow hidden your ax. It's nowhere to be found.

So the doubt swallowed me whole.

Paris was as we had left it. Beautiful as always, but this time there was a sheen of dishonesty associated, creating a foreboding feeling to permeate my skin. The more I thought about the phone call, the more I realized I couldn’t have heard incorrectly, but maybe I had heard January being used. I thought her too honest, too naive to willingly screw me over. That was not January’s style.

“Back to the hoodie, I see,” January said, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Huh? Uh, yeah. It’s still a little chilly out.” I tugged the hood of my jacket farther over my face.

“Mmm, hmm,” she hummed under her breath.

I wasn’t taking the bait. “There’s a couple of day bands, but I’ve screened them already and I’m not interested.”

“So have I and I concur.”

“I do want to see a band called Clever. Many of the labels are going to be interested in this one, but I know someone who knows someone who got them to see me first.”

“Shut the eff up!”

“No.”

“Jeez, chill, Tom. I was just joshing,” she said, elbowing me softly.

“Sorry,” I said absently.

“Where are they playing?”

“Reine.”

“Ah, I see.”

“This is a joint effort by several labels, January. There’ll be media there.”

“Media.”