Thomas & January, Book Two in the Sleepless Series Page 5

  A few months before The Ivories disbanded, I knew it was over. Things were taking place that simply gave it away. Cherry started to miss practices to hang out with Charlie, not that any of us had cared, we all had things to do that seemed more important. Our songs suffered for it and our sizable following recognized it, so they simply stopped showing up.

  I started to become obsessed with Kelly, making up excuses to hang out with her. This made Carter incredibly nervous, rightfully so, and she had to end our little private dinners and lunches and movies. I knew it wasn’t right for me to take advantage of Kelly’s naivety like that. I knew I was wrong, but I still felt an added cover of bitterness creep into my heart that Carter didn’t want her to do as she wished. Another thin veneer of bitterness was added on top of my growing layers as well because it felt like she had started to feel the same way about me as I did for her. I knew if we could’ve had another month or so, she would’ve been mine.

  That’s when I took the Austin gig. I thought it would’ve helped me move on, find solace in a career worth taking solace in but being alone only magnified how much my heart had hardened and before I knew it, it’d turned to stony ice to keep from hurting so damn badly.

  That’s why I resented January so much. That night, that embrace, that unbelievable kiss cracked my carefully guarded, steeled heart. She reminded me of what I didn’t want to remember wanting anymore. I didn’t want to know the comfort of someone’s touch or kiss. I just wanted to be alone, regardless of what that would cost my life because nothing was as costly, in my opinion, as a broken heart. Nothing.

  January

  I woke to the faint sound of Tom’s iPod in my ear. Damn, he’s playing that loudly. Doesn’t he know he’s gonna remove apostrophe lose his hearing at that decibel? I inwardly sighed. Why should you care, January?

  Something felt off though. That’s when I realized that he wasn’t playing it loudly....at all. In fact, I’d only heard it so well because I was practically on top of his lap! My face and neck flamed red, of course, and I silently thanked God that my hair was fanned across my face, hiding my reaction. I smiled lightly. Hmm, while I’m here... I took him in. His chest was hard and wide and so incredibly warm. I inhaled deeply, making sure to keep my breathing even so it wouldn't give me away, and smelled his astonishingly yummy smell. Oh my Lord, he was built like an Abercrombie model. I felt it underneath the ridiculous layers of clothing he hid himself in. I wanted to lift his hoodie and run my fingers down his washboard abs. Then I panicked and adrenaline began to pump through my veins...because I was a drooler. I know, I know, not exactly the most ladylike admission but I was nonetheless. I carefully pressed my lips together to feel for excess moisture. Dry. Thank God.

  It’s time, January. I needed to pretend to wake and act astonished that I was laying across his chest and that I didn’t enjoy it. If I was going to pull it off, I’d need to channel my inner Meryl Meryl Streep. I slowly stirred. Good, you’re doing good. Now, rise. Awesome. If I survive, I should get an Academy Award for this. But when my eyes met his, my body had other plans. It flamed a bright red, crept right up my neck and colored my ridiculous face. God, how I hated that I had no control over this part of myself.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” he said sarcastically. “Have a nice sleep, did you?”

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly, averting my eyes slightly. I caught the attention of a guy two rows up from me. He mistook my blush for being caught staring at him, which I wasn’t, obviously. He winked and I rolled my eyes, making me blush deeper.

  I noticed Tom eyed me carefully. “What?” I asked harshly.

  “Oh, nothing, really.”

  “Seriously? What?”

  “You can’t help it, can you?”

  “Help what?” I asked, shrinking into myself.

  “That,” he said, gesturing subtly toward the idiot two rows up.

  “What exactly are you implying?” I gritted out. What was it about this guy that brought out the cynical in me?

  “I’m not implying anything, January. I’m simply making an observation.”

  “Please, enlighten me, Tom. What exactly did you observe?”

  “That men fly to you like a bug to a zapper.”

  “Lovely. That’s a lovely analogy. Yes, I’m a man-eater, Tom. You’ve pegged me completely and, what, you’ve come to this conclusion all from one stupid kiss? All because I made the gargantuan mistake of pressing my lips to yours?”

  “Why do you keep talking about that? I never brought that up.”

  “Yes, but it’s safe for me to assume that’s where you’re drawing all your reference from since the kiss has been our only real interaction with one another.”

  “You forget The Belle Jar party.”

  “So you flew to me like a bug to a zapper that night, did you? From what I remember, you called me a slut.”

  “I did not call you a slut, January! I said what you’d done was slutty.”

  “Ha! Same thing!”

  “No, it’s not, and I apologized for that already. I told you I didn’t mean any of it.” He exhaled loudly. “Besides! You weren’t exactly innocent either! You played me that night! You dragged that confession out of me! God! I was such a sucker for it, too! I had no idea I’d fallen into your web until it was too late.” He pointed at himself and said, “Bug!” Then pointed at me. “Zapper!”

  I smiled smugly and crossed my arms, happily burying myself into my seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t, femme. Sure you don’t.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked. “Listen, I just want to clear this up now, although I don’t why because I don’t owe you any kind of explanation, but if it’ll make you stop being such a supreme ass with me, I’ll fess up. I am not the kind of girl who kisses strange men. It was a one-time offense and you happened to be the victim, as you so seemingly are implying. I’ve only kissed two guys my entire life and you happened to be the second. I’m sorry. I’m sorry and it won’t ever happen again. I swear on my life.”

  Tom narrowed his eyes briefly before fixing his expression to one of cool indifference. “Good.”

  The rest of the flight was met with uneasy silence.

  Thomas

  She’s only kissed two guys? I almost couldn’t believe her. She was so gosh damn beautiful, there was just no way that could be possible. I watched her. She bit at the side of her thumbnail as she argued with herself internally over whether or not her outburst was smart . It was. She put me in my place and I deserved it, not that I’d let her know that little fact nor would I let her know that her confession did a bit more than that. It made her even more intriguing, if that was possible. Get a grip on yourself, Tom.

  When we exited the plane, January let me shoulder her carry-on without so much as a peep. I followed her up the Jetway out into the airport.

  “Have you been to Ireland before?” I asked, my attempt at peace yet again.

  She looked at me warily before deciding to answer. “The only places I’ve ever been are New Jersey where Grams lives and Austin. We’d visit New York City every now and then growing up, but that’s about it. How about you?”

  “I’ve traveled some,” I answered vaguely.

  We approached the customs counter and answered their questions.

  “Where?” She pressed as we exited the main part of the airport and headed toward the luggage carousel. I held the door for her.

  “Japan and all over Europe.”

  “Wow, when was this?” she asked, well aware as I was of this white flag moment.

  “I was in a band before I joined Seven.”

  “No kidding. Who? Would I have heard of y’all?”

  “I doubt it,” I smirked as we came to a still before the empty revolving carousel. “We were called The Ivories.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she blinked lazily.

  “What?” I asked.<
br />
  “No, you weren’t.”

  “Okay, I wasn’t.”

  “Shut the hell up! You were not part of The Ivories.”

  “I was,” I laughed.

  She cleared her throat and her face burnt a bright red. I got it just then. Her face would always betray her. I tried not to do a little dance at that new development. “You guys were, uh,” she swallowed, her face burning even brighter. She gently stamped her foot in frustration at the giveaway. “Amazing,” she finished. “Really,” she said, turning my way and looking me dead in the face. “I seriously loved the hell out of your music. I was so disappointed when I heard you disbanded.”

  She shocked me at that profession. “How did you even know about us?” I asked in disbelief.

  A smile turned up at the corner of her mouth before she looked away then at the ground. “I made it my job to know good music, Tom. It’s why I’m here...with you.”

  She made me smile but I turned away so she couldn’t see.

  The revolving carousel was now full of suitcases but we hadn’t been paying attention.

  “Let me know which one’s yours,” I gently commanded.

  “All right,” she conceded easily.

  My duffel came into view and I reached to grab it, tossing it near our feet.

  “That one,” she said, pointing to another canvas duffel almost identical to mine but in a paler shade of green.

  “Cool,” I said.

  An unguarded smile spread across her beautiful face and my hand slid slowly to my chest as a crackling feeling set deep within began to pop and shiver, another icy layer melting away.

  January was like the freaking sun.

  Chapter Four

  Kiss With a Fist

  Thomas

  The label had a car waiting for us courtesy of a driver carrying one of those absurd signs with our names on it. Overkill. There was no one else around, but the guy held the sign up as we approached him like his job depended on it.

  “Mister Eriksson?” A boy probably not much older than January dressed in a black suit asked in the thickest Irish brogue I’d ever heard.

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  “Hi!” January exclaimed jauntily, reminding me she was definitely from Texas. She stuck her hand out, surprising the boy. “So nice to meet you!” she added.

  The boy’s face turned from surprised to exceedingly pleased as he drank her body in. He shook her hand vigorously. “A pleasure, miss. Here, let me,” he said, dropping her hand and grabbing her bag.

  I narrowly avoided a facepalm. Bug to a zapper.

  “They’re so nice here,” she said to me under her breath as the boy led us to the car.

  “Yeah, that’s why he’s being so nice,” I said, but she didn’t catch the sarcasm.

  The boy-driver opened the back door to a black Mercedes. I didn’t have the heart to tell January that this was the last decent piece of transportation she was going to see on our entire scouting adventure. She slid in and placed her hand on the back of the front seat ahead of her, her grip nervous. I slid in beside her as the driver placed our bags in the backseat.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, her face contorting oddly as she forced a smile. Terrible liar.

  The driver got in on the right side of the vehicle throwing me off for a moment.

  “Uh, about how long to our hotel?” she asked the driver.

  “I’ve been told to take you to Dublin HQ. Is that all right, miss?”

  “Um, sure, of course. About how long?” she asked.

  I almost laughed as I turned my body slightly toward hers and took in her awkward body language.

  “Right ’bout twenty minutes usually, Miss. But there’s likely traffic on the M50 ’bout this time ‘a day. I’d guess we’d arrive closer to half past, miss.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, wringing her hands. “Can I-Could I sit up there with you then?”

  The boy looked at me briefly but his eyes lit up when they hit January’s hopeful glance. “All yours, miss.”

  January floored me when she grabbed her bag and left me in the backseat on my own. I’m ashamed to say my mouth gaped. I was flabbergasted at the little minx.

  “Thank you,” she said, settling in beside him.

  “No problems, miss.” He smiled at her and I stifled the urge to knock his block off.

  January rummaged through her purse as the boy pulled out of the airport and onto the M1. She pulled out a bag of ginger candies and offered me one.

  I waved it away with one hand. “No, thank you,” I said, still staring at her.

  “Would you like one...I’m sorry, I never asked your name.”

  “Ailin, miss.”

  “January,” she offered, smiling. “Would you like a piece of candy, Ailin?”

  “Thank you, miss. I’d love one.”

  I sat stock-still when her hand reached over and handed Ailin a paper-wrapped ginger candy. My hand practically crushed the iPod I was holding when his fingers grazed hers. She turned her attention back to the sights around her but Ailin was having trouble paying attention to the road.

  “Oy!” I said, startling Ailin back to the present. “Is this all you do for Seven?” I asked him through the rearview. His eyes met mine briefly and with a silent, cold, hard expression, I told him to let January go because, well, because I wanted him to.

  “No, sir,” he answered. “I’m a bit of a gofer for them, really.”

  “Me too!” January exclaimed, turning back to Ailin.

  “Really?” he asked excitedly before meeting my eyes again, swallowing hard. “Really?” he asked again but with less enthusiasm.

  “Yeah,” January answered. “At first, I only fetched coffee and that sort of crap, but with time, they gave me a few more responsibilities and were impressed. It’s why I’ve been given the chance to become an apprentice of sorts with Tom here,” she said, glancing back my way.

  That and Jason thought it would be a fun game to throw us together, I thought.

  “Anyway, don’t give up,” she said, patting his free hand, making me red in the face. Calm down, Thomas! “It’ll pay off.” She smiled warmly.

  “Thank you,” he said, slipping his hand from underneath hers. She frowned but didn’t think more of it. Ailin’s eyes met mine and I nodded.

  We met all the necessary people at Seven, before Ailin drove us to the inn the label had set us up in. January sat up front again, inadvertently pissing me off.

  “We should go out tonight,” January said, surprising me.

  “Seriously?” I asked her.

  “Yeah,” she continued, stepping around the front of the car to stand in front of me while Ailin unloaded our duffels. She looked up into my face and that’s when I saw it. Innocence. She was going to kill me, I just knew it. “Ailin said a couple of his pals are going to Temple Bar tonight if we’d like to join them.”

  “Did he?” I asked her, eyeing Ailin as he hurriedly shuffled our bags inside without so much as a glance my way. “He included me in this invitation?” I asked, turning back her way.

  She furrowed her brows as if what I’d asked was ludicrous. “Of course you’re invited, Tom. I think it was mostly for you, anyway, and I was just included as a top off.”

  Sure. Zap. Zap.

  “Yeah, Temple Bar is a blast,” I admitted. “We can fish around for a few little bands as well, if you want.”

  “Oh, hell yeah! What a good idea.”

  I let January lead me into Anchor House, the inn the label had set us up in. It was charming, like most places in Dublin, and was just a short walk to Temple Bar, which would work out nicely for us. January was situated in the room directly across from mine and we each had a private bath, which was practically unheard of in little inns like these, but I was grateful because I wanted January’s first night abroad to be a comfortable one. Why do you even care?

  We agreed to meet at nine o’clock downstairs and
would walk to Oliver St. John Gogarty’s because Ailin wanted January to visit somewhere authentic for her first night. I kid you not, those were his exact words. He seemed pretty smug when all was said and done, but when I "accidentally" intercepted his hug goodbye to January, he seemed to get my message clearly, not that that would stop him, cheeky bastard. Didn’t matter, I liked competition. I mean, not competition. I meant that - I just - you see - I didn’t think it was a good idea for either one of us to get involved with people when we’re supposed to be doing a job.

  At six, I decided that I’d rather go run than eat because it’d been more than twenty-four hours since my last run and I was jonesing bad. I threw my garb on, a pair of Adidas track pants and a t-shirt, and went downstairs. Outside, I began to stretch against the railing.

  The door opened, but I was too involved in my stuff to pay attention. That is, until I caught the whiff of January’s perfume.

  “Hey,” she said, looking confused. Her eyes raked up and down my body. For some reason, this made me self-conscious. I’m assuming because she hadn’t seen me in anything other than baggy jeans and heavy hoodies but I’m not sure why I gave a shit. “I didn’t know you were a runner.”

  I took in her jogging outfit and thought the same. “Neither did I. You - that is, I meant to say, I didn’t know you ran.” Smooth. Very smooth.

  “Mind if I join you?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said, but amended, “but I don’t talk when I run. That’s when I listen to a lot of new music, actually.”

  “Same here,” she said, holding up her iPod. This girl was all surprises.

  Without another word, we began our jog. Since I’d been in Dublin before, for several weeks actually when I traveled with The Ivories (we’d had a crazy following here for some reason) and I was familiar with the strange cobblestone streets, I signaled for January to follow me. We jogged the River Liffey past Temple Bar for approximately two miles before crossing the bridge over the river and jogging Liffey the way back to Anchor House. The buildings were a pretty mix of old and new architecture. It fit Dublin so well. A city of old, cherished tradition but the people weren’t afraid of progress either. God, I loved Ireland. The last half-mile or so, I slowed down some to slow our heart rates. I was extremely impressed that January could keep up with me. It certainly explained the shape her legs were in. I’d yet to really see them, since it was dark at The Bowery, but their long, lean shapes definitely couldn’t be hidden by the pair of jeans she’d been wearing the night we’d kissed. I’d noticed. I hated that I did but, all the same, I did.