Tommytakesawfullylongin the bathroom, so long in fact, my heart can’t stop hammering in my chest.
Did he slip and fall? What if he drifted off in the tub and drowned? What if his wound reopened and he couldn’t stop the bleeding, so he passed out?
Worrying my bottom lip, I pace from the window to the door. The soft carpet caresses my bare feet, its green strands like fresh spring grass. I’m not used to this. To having someone. It’s fucking scary.
Another five minutes pass, and I can’t take it anymore.
“Fuck this.”
Tossing the second towel over my shoulder, I march straight to the bathroom. My heart sinks. The fucking door is locked.
“Tommy? Are you there? Unlock the door!” I knock with bated breath.
There is no response. Anxiety knots my stomach.
“Tommy? Hello?”
No answer. My chest constricts. Damnit! Was I right? Did something really happen to him? I try the door handle again. It won’t budge. My heartbeat takes off, mad and loud. I press my ear to the door, but hear nothing.
That’s it. I can’t stew in this suspense anymore.
I take a few steps back and crash my shoulder into the door. The ornate wood holds its ground. I do it again. Then again, and then a couple more times until the hinges give and a loud thud announces my entrance. I finally burst inside, panting and spiraling down.
My eyes go wide and my tightly wound body sags. A giant wave of relief surges through me as those beautiful blue eyes cut to me, half-shocked and half-disbelieving. The door under my feet probably has something to do with that.
“What the fuck, Niko?” Tommy asks, bunching his cute eyebrows in confusion as he slides down the wireless headphones he’s donned.
Bubbly water covers his body, and despite my intrusion and evident distress, he looks awfully comfortable lying in the bathtub. The bandage is still in place too, and he’s also wrapped something around it, so it won’t get wet.
Okay, I think I might have overreacted.
I scratch my neck. “I, uh…”
The little devil smiles, but half-assedly tries to hide it. “You what, big guy? And close the door, will you? There’s a bit of a draft.” He snorts.
I glare at the mess of my own making like it’s its fault I acted without using my brain. Much. I search in my head for what to say, picking up the unhinged door. After a bit of fiddling, I manage to attach it back to the frame, then close it. When I turn around, Tommy has gotten even more comfortable, his arms spread along the rim of the tub.
“Well?” he urges me, drumming his fingers against the white marble.
I fold my hands behind my back, square my shoulders and clear my throat. “I was worried.”
A smile flirts with one corner of his plush lips. “You wereworried?”
“Well, yes. You were taking awfully long and didn’t answer when I called for you, so I thought maybe you fell asleep, or slipped, or bled out and lost consciousness… or drowned.” I glower at the stupid headphones. The volume is so loud, I can hear the gunshots and screams from the movie he’s got running on that giant TV.
God, I can’t believe this. What’s wrong with me? I’ve never been the type to overreact. I’m smart, calm, a critical thinker. I’m logical, I don’t jump the gun or let my emotions cloud my judgement. Typically.
The adrenaline slowly starts to leave my body, making this whole thing even worse. It feels like my legs have turned into noodles, shaky and bendy and not able to support me .
“Come here,” Tommy says, beckoning me with one finger.
I comply, crouching by the tub when I reach him.
“Is it bad of me to feel happy that you were worried about me?” he asks, sliding that finger up and down the side of my jaw.
My eyes flutter half-closed, the contact featherlight, yet hijacking all of my senses. I lean into it, chasing after the shivers, the electricity racing down my neck, my back, all the way to my balls.
“I’m not a good person, Tommy. I’ve got no right to judge you.”
