Page 176 of Trading Paint
Blake must not know me well because those who reallyknowme; know that when I say no, I fucking mean it.
My knee came up hastily between his legs. Any erection he may had was now gone. “I said no!”
“Wow,” a voice behind me laughed through Blake’s howling. “And to think I thought I was going to have to fight him off you.”
I spun around letting Blake collapse to the ground to see Tommy standing there with a grin. I’d never been so happy to see that orange head in my entire life. I could fend for myself, sure, but emotionally, I was rattled a little.
Back at my apartment, a couple beers to calm my nerves, Tommy and I spent the rest of the evening talking while he tried to convince me to tell Jameson what happened with Blake.
“Why should I?”
“He’s your best friend. You tell him everything.”
“He doesn’t need my drama along with his own, Tommy.” I tossed a bag of chips at him and another beer. “Just leave it alone.”
“If you say so, but if he finds out from someone other than you,” he shook his head. “I hope I’m not there to see it.”
“He’s notthatbad.”
Tommy quirked an imperceptive look in my direction, “Let me tell you something...do you remember that race out in Terre Haute in 2000 when you disappeared.”
“I didn’t disappear!” dropping down beside him on the couch in my apartment—I took his beer from him. “I went to the bathroom.”
“Whatever, you were gone for like two hours and no one could find you.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is...he is protective of you. If he thought for one second you were in danger in any way, he’d destroy everything and anyone to get to you. Did you know that he refused to start the feature that night until you were found?”
“He’s notthatbad.”
“You’re in denial. He isthatbad, when it comes to you.”
“Why do you keep saying that? We’re friends, nothing more.”
“The sooner you two realize that you’re way more than just friends, the better off we all will be.” Tommy laughed. “He’s one moody motherfucker when you’re not there.”
“Do you think he wants more?”
Tommy paused and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, then looked away. “It’s not my place to say.”
“Nice.” I retorted rolling my eyes.
“I don’t know if you have noticed this before but Jameson scares the shit out of me. No way in hell I’m telling you what he tells me.”
“Get out.”
“What—why?” His expression was similar to a child’s when they find out there is no Santa Clause and your parents lied to you.
“Because,”
“No, I have nowhere to sleep tonight.”
“Fine, sleep on the couch—share with Mr. Jangles.”
“Mr...who?”
“Jangles,” I finished for him. “He’s my cat.”
