Pain of Love - Tom Kaulitz

This is the Last Time

I look at my watch, huffing in frustrated boredom.

"Where is he? He said he'd be here."

Bill shrugs at my enquiry, sauntering over to the bench to grab his water bottle. "Probably still in bed. We got back pretty late last night. Business was booming as always."

"That's great. But Tom was the one who said to be here at eight. It's now nearly nine," I explain bitterly. Tom had arranged for another session in combat training with me this morning. However, it's evident that he's either forgotten or just doesn't care. I'm assuming the latter.

"I dunno Lily, just go up and get him," Bill suggests, clearly bored of my complaints.

I let out a muffled 'fine' before exiting the gym. As I ascend the grand staircase, I find myself growing increasingly curious as to what Tom could possibly be doing to be missing a plan that he had adamantly organised.

My question is suddenly answered when I approach the door to his room.

It is not Tom's tall frame that emerges from the door, but a rather petite looking female, her presence causing me to stop dead in my tracks. She stumbles out in a crinkled mini dress, smudged lips curved into an exhausted but utterly satisfied smile as she attempts to fix her dark and disheveled hair. Her just as smudged eyes meet mine as she slips past me, tripping awkwardly under her large heels.

A spark of jealousy zips through me, it not taking a genius to connect the dots, her sheepish grin not going unnoticed.

With a scowl, I step forward and twist open the door, the faint smell of cigarette smoke surrounding me. I spot Tom draped on the edge of his bed, cigarette in hand, one leg hanging loosely off the side. He's dressed in nothing but a pair of dark sweatpants, his chest rising and falling in a gentle yet irritably noticeable pattern.

His dark eyes land on me, hooded with something that resembles a post pleasure contentment. "Morning," is all he says.

I ignore his statement, feeling physically sick. "Who was that?" My voice is more defensive than I'd like to admit.

He shrugs, shifting in his seat casually. "Some girl."

My blood begins to boil. Is he fucking serious?

"Y'know, if you're gonna skip the training that you organised for some cheap hooker, I'd appreciate the heads up," I snap, feeling an intense mixture of jealousy and hurt.

Tom raises his brows and brings the final drag of his cigarette to his pink lips, shrugging indifferently. "Yeah, uh, sorry  about that," he explains coolly as he burns it out in the ashtray beside him.

I scoff at the sight of him lounging next to his ruffled silk sheets—the implication that they are assorted in more than just a slept-in mess only pissing me off more. 

"That's it? Sorry? You're fucking unbelievable."

He remains unbothered, propping one of his legs up, forearm resting on the peak of his knee. "Look, we all got back really late last night, I just—needed some time off."

"Yeah, whatever Tom, just forget it." I scoff, barely able to look at him knowing he's just been with another girl not even forty eight hours after I was with him.

He sits up, narrowing his eyes at me. "Why are you pissed off?"

"Doesn't matter." I reach for the door handle, not even bothering to answer him, it evident he's unaware that he's gone wrong.

"No, hold on," he says. It's firmer than his previous tone as he gets up from the bed, moving over to me.

My heart quickens as he approaches me, that fact that I verbally admitted my feelings towards him with Roxy last night somehow making everything more intense. As well as the hurt I feel.