Crescent

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The moon is out by the time we get home. Mom retires to her bedroom, and I head for mine. I haven't responded to Tom's last text, mostly because I know what he means in a way. My painting comes from instinct - something deep inside telling me to put my thoughts on canvas and it refuses to relent until I've painted what I needed to paint.

So, yes, Tom. I do understand, and I don't know how to feel.

The overwhelming urge to paint is just that: to paint. The urge to befriend and protect someone after just meeting them, is something else entirely. How could he be okay with that unforeseen force telling him that he needs to be around someone? My urges affect my paintings, but this that he is trying to explain to me affects his life.

I've just exited the bathroom from changing into pajamas when there is a strange tap from my balcony door. I step in that direction curiously before deciding it was just a random noise. I step towards my bed only for the noise to happen again.

Taking in a deep breath, I steel myself to peak out of the curtains. Not seeing anything on the balcony itself, I open the doors and peer down at the ground.

Below me, on the grass, stands Tom. He gives a sheepish smile and wave. I return his smile with a confused look. Then, without warning, Tom jumps forward and up, grabbing the floor of the balcony just below where the railing starts. He climbs until his hands are on top of the railing before gracefully shifting his body over and landing in front of me.

"What are you doing?"

Tom looks down, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "I, uh, was just making sure you were okay and didn't need me to stay again."

I shiver. Backing into my room, I watch as Tom follows and shuts the door behind him. "Maybe just until I fall asleep?"

He nods.

I walk over to turn off the light before crawling in to bed. Tom moves to sit on the ground, but I interrupt. "You can sit on top of the blankets." He does so, kicking off his shoes and settling in a sitting position against the headboard.

It's quiet for a while until Tom speaks up. "There hasn't been any sign of Cross in town. He might have left, but we're still skeptical."

"Okay," I say, almost a whisper through my sleep-induced state. I start to drift off, but thoughts of Derek fill my head. Tom notices and, although he doesn't say anything, he slides his hand close enough that I can reach out and hold it. His presence calms me, and I fall into a dreamless sleep.

Both Tom and my mother are gone by the time I wake up. I decide now is as good of a time as any to work on my assignment. After making sure I am securely locked into the house, I pull out the paints from Linda's store and start painting.

It's well past noon when there is a frantic knock on the front door. I jump, narrowly avoiding sliding my brush across my entire canvas. With quiet steps, I walk to the door and look through.

Once I see who it is, I open the door, letting my nerves drop away.

"Don't you know how to use a phone," Tom demands, barging in without a care in the world. "I've been trying to reach you to make sure you were okay. Well, first, I was just inviting you for lunch with my friends, but then you didn't answer and I had to worry."

"Oh."

"Oh? That's it?"

"Look, I'm sorry for making you worry, but honestly I forgot about my phone. I started painting and lost track of time. It happens a lot more often than you would think, actually." I give a nervous laugh.