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.”