long time no see, guys. chapter five is here. job interviewing is a long process. but it's coming along. i hope you don't hate me.. i'm very proud of this chapter, i worked my ass off on it. i hope you enjoy it!
The syrupy color of his irises slowly met my terrified stare, and a flicker of recognition erupted through them before the anger was truly evident. He stared at me for a long moment, the pink, iced slop dripping rhythmically from the hem of his hoodie to the tops of his shoes. Drip. Drip. Drip. I'd droned out the sound of the music at this point - the only noise audible was the thumping of my heart. Tom and I stared at one another for what seemed to be an eternity before he turned quickly, swearing under his breath and pushing his way through the crowd of bodies and away from me.
Without thinking, I quickly pushed the barstool out of my way and followed suit, ignoring Lana's call out to me from behind. I kept focus on the white of his back and the inkiness of braids falling across it as I hurried after him. What the hell was I doing?
When I'd made it past the mass of people on the dance floor, I found myself in the small corridor near the restrooms. Tom disappeared behind the door of the men's room, and I was left alone to lean against the wall. I could very well sprint off and ignore the fact that I'd spilt my drink all over him - but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. What were the odds that I'd have so many run-ins with him? Slim to none, Vic's voice reminded me as I recalled our video chat a week prior. Slim to none. I nearly laughed aloud. This wasn't happening.
When I saw the door of the bathroom fly open, his body emerged, and he looked even more infuriated than in the bar. He stopped when he saw me, the white of his shirt still marred by a light pink blotch. He was staring murderously at me, and I took a timid step forward.
"I'm sorry, I - "
"Don't." His voice was rough - cold, even - and I knew I was looking so foolish at this point. Regardless of his stiff stance or the enraged expression etched across his face, I took another step forward.
"I didn't purposely spill it on you," I said quietly, glancing at the stain for a quick moment. "It was an accident."
He let out a low, dry laugh - one I'd recognized from several previous encounters. "Your accident destroyed my favorite piece of clothing." He looked down at the hoodie and then up at me, his dark brows furrowed together. "Do you know how much this is worth?"
I felt my heart clench. We'd had this discussion before, and it always ended the same. So I saved him the trouble. "More than my life, I'm sure."
There was a heavy silence between us before Tom let out a scoff, making a move to walk back into the main area of the bar and away from me. That had always been me - it was always me running from him - and he'd always follow after me, gripping at my arm in order to keep me in my place. The tables certainly had turned, and I knew I'd have to play the role in these circumstances, so I did. I moved behind him briskly, reaching out with a hand and wrapping my fingers around the exposed flesh of his forearm. It felt as warm as I'd remembered, and my chest tightened considerably. He stopped, his shoulders stiffening, and we stood there - me behind him, my hand wrapped around his arm.
"Tom..." my voice sounded foreign, even to my ears. It was quiet, broken. Desperate.
He inhaled slowly, his back rising with the movement. "Let go of me."
"Please," I choked out. "Just talk to me."
He turned then, my fingers still around his arm, and faced me. His expression had softened a bit as he looked down at me, and there was a flicker of emotion behind my eyes that I couldn't quite decipher. He looked just as broken as I did, and it nearly shattered me.
