The Actor's One & Only

Chapter 8

A/N: hey-o! I'm back! P.S. The lady in the pic is Miss Fernande- a French pinup girl & Jack's adolescent crush.

"N..n...no!! Let go!! Please, Bronco, no! I hate ya...I hate ya! Get offa me...you bastard...!" Ruth cried out in her sleep, twitching, tossing and turning simultaneously. It was the same nightmare again. Her ex Bronco torturing her and harassing her, abusing her till she woke up, drenched in sweat and tears, screaming and pleading for him to stop. Only this time when she woke up, she had someone to comfort her.
She heard the rustling of Jack's sheets as he scrambled in the dark for the light switch in the adjacent bed. There was a click and the lights came on, illuminating the hotel room. He looked at her in a drowsy but concerned manner as she sat up in bed and trembled under the covers. He walked on over in an undershirt and boxers, sitting on the edge of her bed and wrapping a skinny, freckled arm around her protectively once she'd told him what'd happened. It was usually him doing the weeping, but it was all so different now. He didn't like this. This scared, lonely, not so strong version of her. He planted a kiss on the corner of her eye, in the process stopping a salty, hot tear that rolled down her cheek in its tracks.
"I could sleep with ya, ya know?" he whispered, his hot breath bathing her ear as he spoke. "Scuse me...? Oh!" she was startled by his offer, only realising what he'd meant once he returned to his own bed and began shoving aside a few pieces of furniture before he pushed both their little beds together, joining them to form one bed big enough for both of them. She remembered the sleepovers that Jack's mum would arrange for them when they were kids, continuing them well into puberty. She chuckled as she pictured her friend's poor, embarrassed, teenage face!
"Might wanna frame that statement in a better way the next time, eh?" she advised, lying back into the semihard mattress, feeling somewhat at ease as he got under the covers with her. "Why couldn't we stay at yer dad's apartment ere in London?" she asked, groaning at the quality of the cheap hotel room and its equally cheap furniture that seemed to give her backaches. "Ya mean, with im an' his mistress?  I dunno what he sees in that French floozy anyhow! French women aren't that big o' a turn-on." he complained, bitterly. She bit her tongue, blaming herself for bringing up the sensitive topic of his parents' divorce.  "Oh, yeah? Why dontcha tell that to the pinup o' Miss Fernande that ya hung on yer bedroom wall? " she reminded cheekily, finding it hard to not joke about his Francophobic comment. He feigned laughter, but found it hard not to hide his blush at her joke. "That's private. Besides, there's room on my wall for a naughty Polaroid o' a certain, pretty young thing..." he shot back with a saucy wink, his voice growing muffled as he nuzzled her sweet-smelling hair as she allowed him to hold her in his comforting arms.
"Well, I'd better put up a pillow wall if yer gonna be sleepin next to me." he snickered on hearing her mutter and swat away his hand as he teasingly ran his ticklish fingers up her arm. "Now, why would we want that? How would I be able to see that gorgeous face in the morning when I wake up with a bloomin pillow wall blockin it, eh?" he pouted, eliciting a giggle from her.
"Better, Ruthy?" he enquired, cupping her face tenderly, relieved on hearing his upset friend smile for a change. "I haven't fallen asleep yet. Keep talkin. Maybe you'll lull me to sleep." she requested, feeling hypnotized as she gazed into his soothing, amber eyes for the longest time.  "Ya been havin these nightmares for a long time?" he asked, without thinking. "They started soon after mum turned im in. Every night, I've been wakin up with these bloody nightmares. Haven't had much luck repressin those memories either, ya know? It's f..fr..frustratin...Christ!" she replied, finding it hard not to break down, stammering the rest of her confession. "It's alright now...hush, he's not ere, anymore, kay? I'm ere now an' it's  my turn to return the favor anyhow, ya know?" he promised as she quivered in his arms, placed her arms around his waist and gripped onto the fabric of his undershirt while burying her teary face into it and soaking it with fresh tears. He regretted asking the question, but smiled as she looked up at him gratefully once she'd finished crying and let all her anguish out.
"Thanks, Jack. Yer a great friend, ya know that? I feel so guilty keepin ya up with my problems, especially when you've got that early photo-shoot an' all tomorrow. I'll just let ya get back to sleep then, yeah?" she thanked, a tad apologetic as well, before snuggling up to him. "Aye. But ya first." he ordered. "Hmm...g'night..." Ruth mumbled, complying with him as she gradually dozed off in his arms. She slept soundly for the remainder of the night.