The Balls in Our Courts [F.SxO.CxT.S]

Chapter Twenty-six

Tommy Shelby was a pacer. Never slept like a normal person except that night when he was done berating her and insulting her body with his hands. In drunken somber, he collapsed on her, his heavy weight holding her in place. While he slept, lightly snoring in her ear, she lay awake attempting to study the ceiling, blurring out what had just happened. But the numbness in her body probed her mind, replaying each touch, word, and breath over and over. Perhaps to understand it or maybe to torture her, she didn't know. But the night went on; minutes, hours, seconds until the sun started to peek its way through the blinds. It was only then Tommy woke up, propping himself up on his shoulders. She allowed herself to turn away from him, reading the time on the clock while he reached over for his pocket watch. "We still have some time," he said, groggily, reaching his arm over. Amelia tensed as he gripped her waist and pulled her in.

"Mr. Shelby-"

"Shhh, listen to the birds, love," he whispered, leaving an affectionate kiss just below her ear. She waited cautiously for his hand to move up or down, but together they stayed put. Tommy dozed in and out of morning sleep, every so often wiping his face in her hair, smelling it. "The hotel shampoo?" It sounded slightly critical, but maybe also a bit curious as he continued to smell and leave kisses. She attempted to shift so that he'd move over to the other side, but he only pulled her in closer until there was no more closer. His leg tangled over hers and his hand rubbed up and down her tummy. "You did so well yesterday-"

"We should get up-"

"And I'm proud of you," he said. Pushing aside her hair, he pushed his face into the crook of her neck and smiled. "You just need to win today." You just need to win today. Winning then meant going to the final round, but winning in the final round meant taking home a medal. Amelia hummed in lazy agreement, peeling his arm off of her midsection. "In a rush this morning-"

"We have to be there half past seven. It's nearly seven-"

Tommy let out a long, exaggerated sigh, and pushed off her, running his hands over his face. "Alright." He swung his legs over the bed, palming his eyes. Amelia rushed off the bed and grabbed her spare uniform from the door hanger. Feeling his lips and hands ghosting over her body, Amelia was shy and uncomfortable dressing in front of him. She tucked her towel under her arm and closed herself away in the bathroom.

Amelia was much more concerned about washing her face than her body. Maybe part of her didn't want to feel her own hands on her body. The cool water opened her eyes, washing away the morning blur. Her hands scrubbed away before she got a real good look. She had thinned out since arriving in Birmingham some months ago. Her cheeks were more hollow and her eyes developed some baggage. She caressed the crevices of her face, staring directly at her lips. I used to laugh a lot, she thought to herself. I used to smile. Looking over her shoulder at the door, she couldn't help, but feel something. It was him. The reason she no longer smiled and hardly felt. And the events of the night prior cemented it in her head. Yearning to feel, to smile, to laugh...Amelia decided at that moment, she had to go home with or without her parents.