by Piper Frost
Tommy: Hey, not sure if you knew this but you can call me Tommy. Apparently I haven't grown up as much as you because Thomas makes me feel old.
Kinlee Hart: THOMAS THOMAS THOMAS! I fuckin love you THOMAS! But you're a dick. Who the hell thought this girls trip was a good idea!? I blame you because you know these girls. You should have known they're bad influences. I've had three shots and I'm on my fifth or sixth glass of wine. Thank god for autocorrect spelling THOMAS.
Well I was right. She's plastered. That text may just piss Kinlee off if she gets a hold of it, but maybe Affton will remember to delete this before she sees it.
Tommy: You know Kinlee's going to read that right? I'd be nice. She's tiny but she's scary as hell when she gets mad.
I hit send and stand, walking back to Chase's office. I don't feel like going out with them tonight anymore. I just want to spend the night with the one person I've been waiting for all these years.
“Hey, I’m just gonna head home for the night,” I tell him, watching him smirk at me.
“Sure you are.” He chuckles and I shake my head.
“Don't start,” I mutter, unable to stop smiling.
“Fine. I'll let them know you bailed for good pussy.” He wiggles his eyebrows and my eyes go wide.
“Don't!” I blurt. “I don't want Bo killing me. The man's years younger than me but I swear to god he's the only guy in this place I’m still terrified of.”
He laughs and waves me off and I head for my bike. I pull out my phone and shoot her a quick text.
Tommy: I'm getting on my bike. If you don't hear from me it's because I crashed and died. FYI.
I laugh, because I used to text her shit like that all the time to get a rise out of her and it worked every time. I used to do it because I thought her reaction was adorable. Now I'm doing it to remind her that she really does care about me.
The drive home feels longer tonight now that I'm waiting to check my phone. It buzzed two minutes into the drive and it's been burning a hole in my pocket ever since. A mile from my house it starts ringing in my pocket and I chuckle. She would fucking call.
I whip into my driveway and the minute I'm off my bike with my helmet in my hand, I yank my phone out of my pocket, grinning at the missed call from Kinlee. I hit send and head for the front door.
“Kinlee Hart's phone. This is Kinlee. Hart. Because it's my phone.” She giggles and I roll my eyes, pushing open my front door.
My first breath almost brings me to my knees.
Affton. My house smells like Affton.
“Hey, Kinlee. You butt dial me?” I take another deep breath and my dick twitches. I need Affton in more ways than one and the way I react to her smell just solidifies that.
“I don't have an ass to dial with,” she blurts, then laughs. “Your lover did!”
Jesus, they're all plastered.
“Last I checked I didn't have a lover.” I laugh, heading for a beer and hoping for the conversation to last long after this beer's gone. “Can you put Affton on the phone?”
The phone rustles and I hear giggling from the table. The only thing I can be happy about is I’m not having to sit through this in person. I like those girls, don't get me wrong, but I’m not one to want to spend an evening with drunk giggling girls, gossiping like I know they are.
“Hello?” Affton says over the phone. “Oh, shit, hang on. One minute. Hold on.” The phone rustles and the loud music starts getting quieter. “Hello?”
“Hey. You rang?” I fall to the couch, beer in hand and can't help but smile.
“Tommy, that text was not funny!” she blurts too close to the phone and I pull it away from my ear a little. “Don't joke about shit like that! If you died, I'd... Don't joke!”
“You'd what, Affton?” I take a swig of my beer. “I wrote you into my will. You'd be the proud owner of a goat.” I smirk, knowing it's a lie but maybe it'll get a rise outta her.
She laughs. God I've missed that laugh. “That poor goat. What're you doing? I miss you,” she mumbles.
“Just got back from work. Drinkin' a beer. Trying to picture you so drunk you're at the point of callin' and tellin’ me you miss me. It's been a while since I've been around drunk Affton.” I chuckle. “You girls are coming home tomorrow, right?”
“Um...” She hums. “No. Later this week. I wish I was. I mean, not really. It's not that bad. I've had a better time than I thought I would. But now that I've unwound some, I'd rather be with you unwinding. I coulda just stayed at your house and we could have gotten drunk and danced to club hits and kept drinking and drinking...” She's still rambling but I'm not sure she even knows what she's saying anymore.
“Hey, B—” I stop myself and clear my throat. It's habit to call her Beany, even after all this time, but she told me not to. I'll wait until she's begging for it. “Any good fresh meat there? You're a free lady, Affton Hart. In a big city.”
The line’s silent for a minute. “I'm from a big city, Tommy,” she mutters. “And I'm not a free lady. I'm very much married. Hey, Kinlee probably needs her phone.”
“Hey now, I didn't mean anything by that.” I laugh. “You said yourself you served him the papers, Affton.” I curse, wishing I hadn't brought it up. At least I know where she lies, though. She's not even considering life outside of marriage yet. “How long have you girls been at this tonight?” Maybe if I can change the subject I'll be able to keep her talking. I just want to hear her voice. Having her in this house with me but not hearing her voice was torture.
“Few hours.” Her tone's changed. “And I did serve him, Tommy, but that doesn't mean I'm single. I'm not really looking for a casual hookup or anything.” She huffs. “I'm tired and I think I drank too much.”
I take a long swig of beer, letting the line fall silent. She's not looking for a casual hookup. That's fine. I can accept that. Because her and I will be anything but casual.
“Hello? Tommy?”
“That's my name, don't wear it out.” I smirk. “Glad you remembered it.” I'm just going to ignore her multiple attempts to hang up on me.
“I don't think I'm the only drunk one.”
“I'm not drunk, Be—” Shit this is hard. “Affton. Just tryin' to be in a good mood for once.” I smile wide, knowing she'll be able to hear it in my voice.
“Why do you keep doing that?”
“Doin' what?” I shift and lie down on the couch after finishing my beer. “Hey, my couch is lumpy.”
“Calling me Affton. You're about to call me Beany and then you stop and call me Affton. Why are you getting weird on me? And your lumpy couch.”
“You told me to. You grew up, remember? Just tryin' to do what you want.”
“Oh.” She laughs with annoyance. “For the first time ever you're going to take something I said when I was angry to heart? Okay, then. Alright. That's fine.”
“I'm sure it is.” I laugh. It's not. I know for a fact it's not and it's eating at her, and I fucking love it. “I never knew drunk Affton to be so awkward. You alright over there? Need me to send help?”
“Who would you send for help? Because if you called one of those girls and told them to come into this bathroom, they'd have hands full of drinks. And I don't think that's the kind of help I need right now.”
“What kind of help do you need right now, Affton?” My tone has lowered drastically and I close my eyes, trying to picture her drunk and hiding in a bathroom and all I can do is chuckle.
There's that annoyed laugh again. “You infuriate me, Thomas. Only you have been able to drive me completely insane and get me so flustered at the same time.”
I groan. “Don't tell me you're hot and flustered right now. That's just low, Affton. All this time we've had together this week, but you're calling me from a club bathroom to tease me?”
“I didn't say I was hot!” She laughs.
“I did.” I sit up, hanging my head and running my hand through my hair. She's drunk and I probably shouldn't be doing this with her but it's t
oo fun. “It's a given.”
“You're so freaking sure of yourself, Thomas. Why do you think after all this time I'd still get hot for you?” The giggle after she asks that is a giveaway she's more than flustered and I'm not sure if I like that right about now. Because she's too far away and there are too many other people in that club.
“Should I list the reasons?” I chuckle, standing and heading for my bedroom. “How about we start with the look you gave me when I showed up on your front porch. Or the kiss in the truck, remember that? Or how you somehow find a way to touch me any chance you get? Or the kiss at the ranch?” I groan. “That was a good one, Affton. That one you really slipped.” I pull my shirt off and toss it in the hamper then shove off my jeans.
“God,” she whispers and chuckles. “You're fuckin' cocky. And I don't know why it gets me hotter.”
“I told you that you're hot.” I stretch out in bed. “How's that bathroom treatin' ya?”
“Fuck you,” she groans. “Where are you right now? Your lumpy couch?”
“Naw.” I moan and smirk, knowing she likes the noises. “I moved from that piece of shit and am stretched out on my luxurious bed.” I sigh. “Kind of lonely in here though, Affton.”
“You're a single guy in a lonely town, Thomas. I'm sure you could find a bedmate until your roommate returns. Call your ex. Rachel, right?”
“Wow.” I laugh. “Way to be a stalker, Affton. For your information the sex between us was just eh. I’m good. I'll wait for my...roommate.” I grin, because we went from hostage to roommate in a matter of days. Maybe this girls' trip was worth it.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not your roommate? I'm occupying a room in your house. I just assumed we were roommates.”
“Yeah, no. Roommate works. For now. But you'll be my bedroom-mate in no time, so maybe I should put an ad out for a new house mate.” I groan, laughing. “I swear I’m not drunk. Just super fucking tired.”
She laughs. “Bedroom mate, huh? That seems like a stretch. Maybe you should get some sleep.”
“I'd rather talk to you. I miss you, Affton.” I let my eyes close and shake my head. It's shit like that that's going to scare her away.
“Can we rewind a little? Or a lot. Almost fifteen years when everything was simpler and you called me Beany 'cause you thought it was cute and I'd giggle like an idiot because I loved that only you called me Beany. Can we go back to Tommy and Beany, the two inseparable fuck buddies that wouldn't commit to each other? Remember when Grant got so pissed 'cause he wanted us to become boyfriend girlfriend or whatever?” She tiredly laughs.
I wish we could. I wish we could rewind and start all over because there's so much I'd do differently.
“I do.” I laugh. He was always team Affton. “And, Beany?”
“Yeah, Tommy?”
“I can't wait for you to get back here.”
“Why?” she whispers.
I groan. God, there's so much. So many reasons.
“I bought this bright purple nail polish a while back and haven't had anyone's toes to put it on.” I smirk, joking of course.
“Wow, I don't know if I'm jealous you were hoping to find someone else's toes to paint. Or creeped out you bought nail polish, probably to paint Grant's toes.”
“I bet you get off to thoughts of that, don't you?” The words leave my lips before I realize what I'm saying but I can't take it back.
She squeals out laughter. “I might change the fantasy a little to someone besides Grant. I've seen his dick and meh.”
“You've seen Grant's dick?” My eyes shoot open and I'm suddenly wide awake. “Why? When? How did I not know this?” With everything Grant and I have been through he would have told me that.
“Being considered one of the guys had its perks, but that wasn't one. Now I'll admit he wasn't hard, so maybe he's a grower.” She snorts out a tired laugh.
“How about we don't talk about Grant's dick anymore?” I mumble, shaking my head, knowing he’s a grower.
“Whose dick should we talk about? I haven't had a good dick…conversation in a while.”
I laugh, knowing where she was going. “I typically don't talk about dicks. So your choice, Bean. Whose dick should we talk about?” God, I wish this conversation were happening when she was here with me and not hours away in a fucking club bathroom.
“There's really only one dick that's been on my mind.”
“Is it magic dick?” I whisper, suppressing a chuckle. “It's okay if it is. He's on my mind a lot too.”
She barks out a loud laugh. “I don't even know what to say right now. Like, why is your dick on your mind a lot?”
“It's sad,” I blurt, then start to laugh. “God, we don't have to talk about my sad dick either. That's depressing.”
“Or...I could make your dick happy like I used to. Shit, Tommy, I'm really drunk,” she whispers, suddenly sounding nervous. I wish we could continue this. I wish she was here. I wish I wasn't such a fucking idiot.
“Hey, Beany, can you do me a favor?” My dick's pissed at me, but first and foremost I need to make sure she's okay. She hums a response and I grin. “Can you take the phone to Jo?” I know Jo's not drinking so she's probably the only one at the table right now that can talk to me with a clear head. I need to make sure she knows I expect to know when they're back at their room safe for the night.
“Um. Yeah, sure. Hang on, okay?”
“Wait,” I blurt. “That...that came out wrong. I just worry about you. And I want to keep this conversation going but not until you're here. In my house. Where we aren't hours apart. Okay?”
There's a long silence. “Yeah. I think that's okay,” she responds and I can hear the smile on her face. I can't wait to see that smile in person.
Two more days.
“Good. So take the phone to Jo so I can make sure you girls make it home safe tonight.”
“Sure.” The music gets louder and before she hands it over, she says, “Night, Tommy.”
“Sleep well, Beany,” I say, just as the phone rustles.
“Hello?” Jo says in confusion.
“My girl's plastered, Jo,” I manage through a head full of worry and frustration. I want to believe everything she said to me tonight, but I'm not sure how much she meant and how much she won't remember tomorrow.
“She looks fine to me,” Jo says point blank. “They've all had a few drinks, but she's not like stumbling drunk. And she's speaking coherently.”
I smirk. She played me.
“Can you just text me when you girls get back to the room please? So I don't worry.”
She chuckles. “You got it, lover boy.” She ends the call.
Grant texts minutes after we hang up and I groan. It's late, but he's on his way over so I toss on my jeans and pull a white t-shirt on and head to the kitchen for another beer. If I'm going to stay awake I'm going to have alcohol.
“I'm over Affton taking up my room. You know how far my apartment is from the shop? You're way fucking closer,” he bitches, blowing through my front door.
Chuckling I grab my Xbox controller then toss one to him when he hops over the couch after grabbing his beer.
“Seriously. When's she going to move to your room so I can start crashing here again?” He takes a swig and is focused on the TV.
“You know you can just take the other room.”
“But I want the big room!” he whines and I laugh, shaking my head.
Grant's like a brother more than any other guy in this town. We've got a past that goes back to grade school. He's still growing out of his teenage years in his thirties but I put up with it because he's my closest friend.
“I gotta give her phone back to her. There's probably a whirlwind of shit waiting for her on it, but I haven't had the heart to check it while she's around. I know if she knew where I was hiding it she'd have already contacted him or booked a flight out of here.”
“Good thing I have connections at the airport.” He grins, tapping his temple. “I've already le
t them know to not let her on a flight unless I give the go ahead.”
I smirk. “You look so stupid, but have some really redeeming qualities, you know that?”
“I didn't get my pilot’s license for nothing!” he boasts and I bark out a laugh.
“I'm fairly certain you got it just to be able to join the mile high club.” I quirk an eyebrow at him and flash back to the first time I ever got on an airplane. That was an adventure...
“I’m not sure an orgy on a plane means you join the mile high club. I thought you had to do it in the bathroom to be in the club.” He grins over at me then laughs. “Why don't you check her phone now? She's not here. It can't hurt anything.”
I blink at him a few times, my palms going clammy but he's right. She's not here. I can do it now and figure out just what type of hellfire her husband's threatening on her. And then I can start to plan the end of his dirty fucking life.
I hop up and walk over to the hutch my dad forced me to put in my dining room. He was right, I would need extra storage for shit. I pull out her phone and hit the power button, heading back for the couch. Grant pauses the game he's playing and shifts, watching me as I stare at the phone. It lights up and takes awhile to load and the minute it figures out it has cell service it starts exploding with messages and emails.
“Fuck, dude,” he mutters, drinking his beer and staring at the screen as more and more shit pops through.
I groan and run my hand through my hair, then down my face and scratch my beard. “Maybe turning it on wasn't a good idea,” I mumble. Once it's finished exploding I pick it up like it's a bomb about to detonate and start scrolling.
Corey: Af where the fuck are you? Answer the damn phone!
“Well, he knows she's missing. Guess we should have figured that one.” I sigh, shaking my head and push on.
Corey: I have cops looking for you Af. If you get this and can respond, please do. I'm scared to death.
Goddammit, he's already called the cops? Is this man not scared of what's going to happen to his career when the public finds out why his wife ran away?
Corey: I'm going to find you Af. And I'll bring you home baby. I don't know if you're getting these but I hope you're okay. The cops have descriptions of the guys that broke into our house. If you can't respond, please try and respond when you can.
