Thomas & January (Sleepless 2)

Tom pulled over and I struggled with my belt, bolting from the car. I discovered we were on top of the most gorgeous rolling hill, its green sweeping layers screamed beautiful things as the wind swooped around the feet and back to the heads of each mounded hill.

Wales.

It was one of the most breathtaking countrysides I’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing. A quaint little town was nestled at the bed of the hill below and it looked like what I’d envisioned a village two hundred years ago would look like, like time had stood still. The only things that gave away progress were the little cars winding the charming streets.

I was breathing hard from the proximity of Tom and the overwhelming view below me. Tom came and stood beside me, brushing a few strands that had strayed from my loose braid from my shoulder.

“You okay?”

I looked up at him. “Um, yeah. Much better. Thank you for pulling over.”

“Of course,” he said, moving to see the view I’d just admired. “Wow,” he exclaimed, “why do I feel the need to abandon my life as I know it and start a new one here?”

I laughed. “Because you’re sane? This is an incredible place. Look at that view.” I held my hands out in front of me.

“Extraordinary,” he said, but when I looked up to agree with him, his eyes weren’t on the world around us, they were trained on me. My neck and face heated, but I didn’t find myself embarrassed.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing, we should, uh, get on the road,” he said, walking back to the rental.

“Alright.” I sighed. “Wait,” I said stopping him short by grabbing his arm. “You’ve got something on the back of your hoodie.” I dusted away imaginary nothings from his back, enjoying the unbelievably amazing muscles beneath his hoodie.

“Get it?” he asked.

“Oh, I got it.” I smiled at myself before settling in and buckling myself back in.

***

London was five hours away and I took the opportunity to get to know Tom a little better, asking him all his favorites. Favorite color, food, song, band. I packed as much as I possibly could in those five hours and by the end of it, I felt I knew Thomas Eriksson better than anyone possibly could in five hours with the impossible Thomas Eriksson.

Truth be told, I was surprised he’d opened up at all—let alone the amount he’d shared. The crazy part was for every question he answered, he expected me to answer the same, like he wanted to know as much about me as I wanted to know about him.

But an hour from London, the most unfortunate thing happened...Well, unfortunate yet at the same time very fortunate. You’ll see.

“Is Jonah going to be there?” I asked, fiddling with the stations. “At the shows tonight?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a competition. He’ll be wherever we’ll be, I think.”

“Tell me about the bands. Who are they? How long have they been playing? Any past affiliations? Spill,” I said.

o;Th-thank you,” I said, staring at him in astonishment. “So are you.”

He scoffed at that. “No, I’m not.”

“Bullshit,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“Bull. Shit. You are talented. You forget, I knew your band before I knew you. I know who wrote all your songs. It was your name on almost every track.”

“Yeah and a fat lot of good that got me.”

“It may not have gotten you signed, but that’s the luck of the draw in my opinion. You and I both know there are a million bands out there that didn’t make it but are just as, if not more, talented than those who have. Maybe that’s why you’re here, in this car with me, waiting to see five bands in London. You know what talent really is, and you can help push it to the front of the queue with Seven.”

He dragged the side of this thumb across the top of the steering wheel and I accepted that as a form of acknowledgement.

“Besides I’m kind of glad you didn’t make it.”