SEEKING 7 | boys of tommen

t a t t o o

To say teatime was awkward would be the understatement of the century. The air was thick with tension, so much so that you could practically cut it with a butter knife. Gibsie's dislike for his stepdad Keith was glaringly obvious. He barely spoke to him, answering with one-word responses or grunts, barely masking his irritation. Keith, oblivious or perhaps pretending to be, tried to make small talk. Each attempt fell flat, suffocating in the awkwardness.

I had asked Joey earlier if I could stay over.
"Yeah, he's not here so you're good to go. Be safe, and have fun," he had said smirk evident, even over the phone, the kind of smirk that told me he thought he knew more than he did.

Now, I sat cross-legged on Gibsie's bed, trying to focus on Grease playing on his TV, but I was far too restless. Gibsie was still in the shower, and the longer I waited, the more nervous I got. My heart pounded in my chest, my palms clammy. This wasn't just a casual hangout—it felt loaded. I'd never had a 'sleepover' with a guy before. Sleepovers with Katie were one thing, but this? This was different. This was Gibsie. Even with Aiden and Declan, the boys I grew up with, it had never felt this... intimate.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped me out of my thoughts. Gibsie stepped out, his skin still damp, beads of water glistening under the soft lighting. A towel hung low on his hips, and he ran a hand through his wet hair, ruffling it absently. He looked... well, perfect.

Jesus Christ. Talk about fine.

His lips curled into a grin as if he could read my thoughts. "See something y'like?" His tone was teasing, and he swaggered over to his dresser, nonchalantly opening a drawer.

"I wasn't looking," I shot back, trying and failing to play it cool, rolling my eyes. But my gaze betrayed me when it zeroed in on something different about him. Something on his ribcage.

Wait... was that a tattoo?

"You have a tattoo?" I asked, leaning in to get a better look, my curiosity piqued. "Since when?"

He glanced down at his side, as if only just remembering it was there. "Yeah, got it a few days after you left." His fingers traced the outline. "What do you think? You like it?"

It was a simple crown. The lines were clean and sharp, almost regal in its simplicity.

"Why a crown?" I chuckled, half-joking, but the question lingered.

"Well, Princess..." He paused deliberately, drawing out the word like he was savoring it, then grinned mischievously. "I know a certain someone whose name just happens to be a princess's name, so..."

My heart stuttered in my chest, disbelief flooding me. "You got the tattoo... for me?" I asked, my voice catching on the words. I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or concerned.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, but his smirk said otherwise. "Well, I didn't get it for Princess Johnny, did I?"

I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head as he pulled a pair of boxers from his drawer. He caught me staring and raised an eyebrow, grinning wider.

"I'll cover my eyes," I muttered, throwing a hand over my face, though a giggle escaped me. Behind the shield of my hand, I could hear him chuckle softly.

"You can look now," he said after a moment, sounding amused. "Sorry, I only sleep in boxers. Pyjamas make me feel all... tangled up."

He tossed a shirt in my direction, which I caught on reflex. As I stood to change, I kept my back to him, more out of nerves than anything else. "Why'd you get the tattoo then?" I asked again, pulling his shirt over my head. His scent—clean, a little musky—wrapped around me, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter even more.

"I missed you," he said, his voice suddenly quieter, more serious. "I needed something to remind me of you."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. Guilt gnawed at me, tightening around my chest. I swallowed hard, trying to push it down, but it wouldn't go away.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice thick with regret.

He looked at me, his gaze softening. "It's not your fault, Aurora. You had your reasons."

I folded my clothes into a neat pile next to the bed, avoiding his eyes. "Done," I mumbled, sitting back down. He turned to face me, sitting down on the edge of the bed, close enough that our knees brushed.

His eyes searched mine, brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied, looking down at my hands.

He wasn't buying it. "Aurora, I know you. Something's wrong."

There was no point trying to hide it. He always knew when I was off. "You want me to be 100% honest right now?" I asked, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, suddenly feeling exposed.

He nodded, watching me carefully.

I sighed, the words heavy on my tongue. "I'm scared," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I know it sounds stupid, but... I've never had a sleepover with a guy before. And the ive ever slept next to a guy... well, it usually ended with us stripping off, and I've never actually slept next to someone... clothed before."

He blinked, then chuckled softly, not at me but more at the situation. "Is that all?" he asked, his tone gentle but with a hint of relief.

I looked at him, biting my lip. "Yeah. Silly, right?"

He shook his head, his hand brushing lightly against mine. "No, it's not silly. Not at all." He paused for a moment before adding, "You're safe here, y'know? With me. Nothing's gonna happen that you don't want to happen."

I exhaled, the tension slowly leaving my shoulders. His words, simple as they were, made me feel a little better. Safer.

"Thanks," I said, giving him a small smile.

He grinned back, that easy, carefree smile that always made me feel like everything was going to be okay. "No problem, Princess."