Thomas & January (Sleepless 2)

And when I got to thinking about it, feeling so confident I was in love with Kelly Simsky six months prior was about the biggest joke I’d ever played...and it was on myself.

January

Oh. My. Lord. I’m in love with Thomas Eriksson.

Since our first kiss six months prior, I’d been falling hard for the stranger, but the short time I’d had him all to myself was enough to solidify it and in stone it seemed. I had it bad. It scared the crap out of me, to be perfectly honest. I’d only been in love twice before and both times I never felt it in my stomach the way I felt it with Thomas Eriksson. In fact, I was starting to question whether I truly loved the boys I thought I loved. They paled so white in comparison and further bolstered my confidence in my decision to wait. Tom was the only man, and I mean man, I’d ever met that could possibly endeavor to deserve my virginity and that made my insides tremble in cool anticipation.

I also wasn’t prepared to experience the entire, almost exhausting, consuming sensation that was being in love with Tom. My body seemed to ache for him. My chest and stomach hurt a dull sort of pang whenever we were apart, even for a short time, and burst in a euphoric peace when he closed whatever gap lay between us, whether it be time or proximity. It was strange and exciting and altogether a feeling of extremes but, ugh, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

With my insane new awareness, I boarded the train headed for Rome with the most butterflies ever to take root in a person’s stomach. I couldn’t stop the stupid-ass smile on my face and I know my cheeks were glowing the deepest cherry they’ve ever shown but I was okay with that. I was so gosh dang cool with that it wasn’t even funny. I wanted to do something terrible like run in circles on top of an Austrian mountain like Novice Maria in The Sound of Music, singing ‘My love is alive for Thomas Eriksson!’ I’d get my sisters to sing back up. Get the effing crackers out! Apparently, in-love-January is nothing but a ball of cheese. I was so high on what I felt for Tom, I could not care less what anyone thought of me.

Everyone, except for Tom, that is. I was pretty confident if I’d went around belting out my love for him in the key of ornery nun, he’d have me committed. It’s why I was quiet instead and acting insanely unlike myself just staring at my folded hands. I looked over and found him smiling at me.

“What?” I asked, my cheeks burning deeper. Maybe he’ll think I’m embarrassed instead of cracked out of my noggin for him.

“This,” he said, running a finger over my blazing cheek, branding me with his equally hot touch. “You’re so goddamned beautiful, January.”

My eyes widened a bit at his heart felt exclamation. “Th-Thank you,” I gulped.

“Come here,” he said, leaning over my body. He enveloped me in his arms but didn’t kiss me. He just stared and studied every line of my face. He looked at me with such unwavering intensity, he was stealing away my breath. My chest started pumping in air at an alarming rate. I was hyperventilating.

o;It’s Chopin’s,” January told me, running her fingers along the wrought-iron fence surrounding the tomb.

“How fitting that the last grave we see tonight was the poet of pianists,” I told her.

“How is that fitting?” she asked me honestly.

“Uh, maybe because you’re a poet pianist?”

“Oh, hush.”

“January, I’m not buttering you up. I’ll get what I want from you regardless the compliment,” I teased. She feigned dismay and made a move to hit me but I caught her hand, bringing her close. I whispered, “I’m telling you that you are a poet pianist. You have a lot in common with him.”

She stared at me a long while and I let her. “I think that is probably the sexiest compliment I’ve ever gotten and if we were alone, I’d probably jump your bones right now.”

“You tease.” I smiled but looked around me. “January, there’s no one here.”

“Excuse him, Fred.” She told the tomb and made an exaggerated movement with her head toward Chopin’s grave.

“Oh, I apologize.” We heard a noise and January literally jumped on me. “You’re good on your word, MacLochlainn.”

“Let’s get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

We walked toward the massive main double door entrance of the cemetery but discovered it was barricaded for the night.

“Crap, we’re going to have to walk to one of the side entrances.”

“Oh my God, that is, like, totally far away,” January whined.

“Like, for sure.”

“Shut up, Eriksson. It’s one in the morning and we’re illegally trespassing on a city cemetery. I’m a little nervous. I channel my inner Valley girl when I get nervous. I can’t be arrested in every country we visit.” She was quiet for a moment as we trekked it back and to the right. “Wait, is that something I should aspire to?”

“No, collect shot glasses or snow globes or something equally garish.” I took her flashlight and turned the light off. The moonlight lit the cobblestone path enough to see where we were going. No sense creating a beacon for the guards. “If you can decipher which European country has the most comfortable handcuffs, I believe your goody two-shoes reputation may tarnish.”

“Both of my shoes are very good.” God, I found her unbelievably adorable when she said things like that. “But I already collect snow globes, remember?”