was any indication. Normally a guy’s room is filled with crap. At least mine was. Most of the stuff is a memory of some kind, even if the memory was just a birthday. Tommy had no posters on the wall. He had three big portraits hanging instead.
They were family portraits, the kind that every “real” family got once a year to send out with Christmas cards. I’d never experienced the phenomenon myself, but Kevin complained loudly every time Tina got the itch. He’d end up dressing up in a sweater in mid-June and get dragged to the nearest portrait studio to take holiday photos with his parents because all the discounts were levied out during the summer, when no one wanted their pictures taken. They might’ve been rich, but Tina was all about saving them money, so discounts and sales got her all giddy. It was a really weird quirk, but then I thought all rich people had to be a little eccentric. The portraits were the only super personal things in Tommy’s room. There were still several stacked boxes in one corner, the remnants of the life he’d left behind. I wondered if they were memories too painful for him to take out yet.
The cream-colored wallpaper was old and flaking around the doorway. Another thing they apparently hadn’t had time to fix before Tommy had moved in. He had a cluttered desk shoved in one corner, with papers and notebooks scattered on top. He had a full-size bed with a simple gray-and-black comforter with some sort of cool swirling pattern. It was comfortable, too, and I found myself relaxing as the seconds ticked by. I wondered how she’d died. Had Tommy seen it coming, or had it been as quick as a gunshot? It was a morbid curiosity but one that I couldn’t help but have.
Tommy walked back into the room with a yellow plastic cup of water and a straw. His thoughtfulness struck me as odd. “Sorry I took a while. Couldn’t find where Uncle Mark stuck the straws.” He sat down beside me and lifted my ice packs to check my bruises. He frowned and put the ice back on. “You’re swelling a little bit, but it should be okay.” He lifted the cup so that I could drink from the straw. I did, my eyes never leaving his gray ones.
I finished sipping. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked. I had to know. I had to know what his ulterior motive was. He looked surprised by my question.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I heard you tell him to stop, and I just reacted.” I nodded. I guess that made sense. Though Tommy had never struck me as exactly the honorable type, he was probably reacting to several thousand years of evolutional programming that said men helped the weak. The thought of me being one of the “weak” did not sit well with me, but there wasn’t much I could do about it at this point.
“Thank you,” I said. What else was there to say? He did save my ass. The numbness was starting to wear off now, and I was getting the shakes. I couldn’t believe what had almost happened. Tears threatened my vision again, and I let out a well-placed string of curses. I was not going to cry in front of Tommy again. I wouldn’t repay his strength with yet more of my weakness. I turned my head and stared at the wall, willing myself to get a grip.
I felt warm hands on my shoulders, and I was forced to look at him again. I stared at him in incomprehension. What did he want of me? “It’s alright, you know. It’s alright to let it out.” Just like that, the well broke and tears cascaded down my face as the fear from before caused me to sob pitifully, like a little girl. Like Cade’s tears, mine were not pretty Hollywood tears. I curled into myself, feeling ashamed. Tommy would have none of it. He took me in his arms and let me snot and cry all over his T-shirted chest. All the time he murmured unintelligible words in my ear and stroked my back in slow circles meant to ease me through the pain.
We stayed that way for about fifteen minutes, his arms around me and my head resting
They were family portraits, the kind that every “real” family got once a year to send out with Christmas cards. I’d never experienced the phenomenon myself, but Kevin complained loudly every time Tina got the itch. He’d end up dressing up in a sweater in mid-June and get dragged to the nearest portrait studio to take holiday photos with his parents because all the discounts were levied out during the summer, when no one wanted their pictures taken. They might’ve been rich, but Tina was all about saving them money, so discounts and sales got her all giddy. It was a really weird quirk, but then I thought all rich people had to be a little eccentric. The portraits were the only super personal things in Tommy’s room. There were still several stacked boxes in one corner, the remnants of the life he’d left behind. I wondered if they were memories too painful for him to take out yet.
The cream-colored wallpaper was old and flaking around the doorway. Another thing they apparently hadn’t had time to fix before Tommy had moved in. He had a cluttered desk shoved in one corner, with papers and notebooks scattered on top. He had a full-size bed with a simple gray-and-black comforter with some sort of cool swirling pattern. It was comfortable, too, and I found myself relaxing as the seconds ticked by. I wondered how she’d died. Had Tommy seen it coming, or had it been as quick as a gunshot? It was a morbid curiosity but one that I couldn’t help but have.
Tommy walked back into the room with a yellow plastic cup of water and a straw. His thoughtfulness struck me as odd. “Sorry I took a while. Couldn’t find where Uncle Mark stuck the straws.” He sat down beside me and lifted my ice packs to check my bruises. He frowned and put the ice back on. “You’re swelling a little bit, but it should be okay.” He lifted the cup so that I could drink from the straw. I did, my eyes never leaving his gray ones.
I finished sipping. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked. I had to know. I had to know what his ulterior motive was. He looked surprised by my question.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I heard you tell him to stop, and I just reacted.” I nodded. I guess that made sense. Though Tommy had never struck me as exactly the honorable type, he was probably reacting to several thousand years of evolutional programming that said men helped the weak. The thought of me being one of the “weak” did not sit well with me, but there wasn’t much I could do about it at this point.
“Thank you,” I said. What else was there to say? He did save my ass. The numbness was starting to wear off now, and I was getting the shakes. I couldn’t believe what had almost happened. Tears threatened my vision again, and I let out a well-placed string of curses. I was not going to cry in front of Tommy again. I wouldn’t repay his strength with yet more of my weakness. I turned my head and stared at the wall, willing myself to get a grip.
I felt warm hands on my shoulders, and I was forced to look at him again. I stared at him in incomprehension. What did he want of me? “It’s alright, you know. It’s alright to let it out.” Just like that, the well broke and tears cascaded down my face as the fear from before caused me to sob pitifully, like a little girl. Like Cade’s tears, mine were not pretty Hollywood tears. I curled into myself, feeling ashamed. Tommy would have none of it. He took me in his arms and let me snot and cry all over his T-shirted chest. All the time he murmured unintelligible words in my ear and stroked my back in slow circles meant to ease me through the pain.
We stayed that way for about fifteen minutes, his arms around me and my head resting
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