I lost my train of thought as I imagined Nicole’s hands on my balls.
I shook my head, went into the living room, and played a little FIFA on the Wii. I was Germany and creamed the Spanish team, the way the last World Cup should have been. When I was done, I tossed the controller back in its drawer and looked at the pouring rain out the window. It was getting dark, and I hadn’t heard from Nicole.
Was she still coming?
Did she have to stay later than she thought?
Was she making Greg dinner? Had she forgotten about me?
Did she get in a…in a…
Shit.
Fuck.
My chest tightened up again, and I had to fight the bile trying to rise up my throat. I swallowed hard and washed it down with a big gulp of blue Gatorade.
It had started to rain harder. What if she was hurt? What if Ron had shitty eyesight, and he hit something trying to drive in the dark? What if a lamppost or something got hit by lightning right in front of them?
I felt like the twelfth man on a team, just waiting on the sidelines but unable to actually do anything about the play. All I could do was try to come up with some chant to spur on the team.
My stomach clenched again, and I tried telling myself I was just hungry, but the idea of food made me want to vomit. I looked down at my shaking hands and realized I was starting to hyperventilate.
I couldn’t stand it. I had to go find her.
I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. Just as I got there, I saw headlights coming up the drive.
Thank fuck.
I didn’t care if she yelled at me, slapped me in the face, or told me she never wanted to see me again. She was okay, and at the moment, that was all that mattered. As soon as she started running from the car to the front door, I was out on the porch, grabbing her into my arms and holding her against my chest.
She was real.
She was okay.
My hand went up her back and came to rest on the back of her head, tangled in her wet hair. I tucked my head against her shoulder and inhaled the scent of her.
“Thomas, I’m getting drenched!”
Oops.
I pulled her inside, kissed her forehead, and told her to wait while I ran upstairs for towels. I gently dried her arms then her face and her hair. I ran back upstairs and grabbed a clean jersey, some sweats that were too small for me, and a pair of dry socks. I ran them all back down to her and then ran the wet towels into the laundry room to get them washed. Once they were going, I raced back to Nicole, realized I had left her hair sticking out all over the place after the rubdown, and ran back up to my bathroom to find a comb.
When I got back, she was holding in giggles.
“What?” I asked.
“You!” she said as she finally lost her hold on her mouth and started chuckling. “You just made fifteen laps around the house.”
&
nbsp; I smiled a little sheepishly.
She reached out and put her hand on my cheek.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I just…was starting to…worry, I guess.”