Thomas & January (Sleepless 2)

“What’s that?” he asked, a dumb smile on his face.

“My fist connecting with your weak ass jaw.”

“Tsk, tsk, Eriksson. Threats? Really? Don’t make me report you to corporate.”

“You’re such a pussy when you say things like that. You know that?”

His only reply was a snort.

“Gonna run off and tell on me, Jonah? Can’t fight like a man?”

“I’m a lover not a fighter, Tom. You know that,” he said, a sarcastic tap on my jaw with his palm.

I gritted my jaw and pulled away from his reach. “Only cowards say shit like that.”

“You always resort to violence, Tom. It’s going to bite you in the ass one day, I think.”

“I’m just not afraid to fight for what I believe in, but you obviously don’t believe in shit seeming as how you’re such a spineless, dishonest asshole. Not that you’d believe me, but I’ve never hit anyone in my life, yet I’m not afraid to start with you, dick. Get the fuck away from me before I’m good on my word.”

I started to walk away but he grabbed the back of my t-shirt.

“Let go, Jonah,” I told the air in front of me, refusing to face him. “I promise you, you won’t win.”

“Don’t you want to know how I found you?” he asked, releasing his grip.

I hated that I did. I sincerely needed to know how the hell he was finding us since we told no one we were even going to Italy.

“How?” I asked, still refusing to turn.

“Why don’t you ask January that question,” he said, chuckling. My blood boiled to an intense heat, but when I turned to confront him he’d vanished around the corner like a slithering snake.

“What a crock of shit,” I mumbled to myself. “She’d never betray me.”

But he’d planted a seed in that moment and as much as I hated it, it made me think.

How did he find us? If January and I were the only ones to know where we were going and I didn’t tell him, that left only one other person who could inform him. Surely not, I thought, shaking my head. He’s just trying to get inside your head.

I entered the theater trembling from the need to hit something. I booked it to the attendant tearing tickets and handed over mine. He pointed to a theater to my right and said something in Italian I didn’t understand. I just nodded and told him the only Italian word I knew. I hoped to God it was thank you but I couldn’t be sure.

The theater wasn’t yet dark and there was no one else inside but January. “Good, the previews haven’t started,” I told her, pasting the best smile I could attempt.

“Over here!” January shouted. She’d stood and started waving her arms. “I’m over here, Tom! Can you see me?” She joked. I looked on her. There’s no way she’d do that to you.

o;Kiss me,” I told him, never breaking eye contact.

“No,” he said, his own warm, sweet breath wafting over my cheeks. His right hand moved achingly slowly from the small of my back and wrapped gingerly around my neck, resting his thumb at my rapidly beating pulse.

“Why?” I begged.

“Say it,” he ordered, his eyes roaming mine.

I blinked long and slow, swallowing my fear. He knew. “You say it.”

“Okay,” he breathed but he was silent for what seemed like minutes.

“Please, I’m in misery, Tom.”

“I’m trying.”