Reunion

A/N: Ahh thank you guys so much for your responses to my first story! They were very helpful and intensely appreciated! This story here has taken me a while to finish, but I hope y'all enjoy nevertheless.

*****

"Do you remember Thomas?"

I placed my waffles and orange juice on the small kitchenette table and sat to eat. I could feel my brother's eyes watching me.

Slicing into my breakfast, I tried to recall anyone I knew named Thomas. "Uh... wait, that kid from high school? Tommy?" I asked. "Yeah, I kinda remember him. He was on the team, right?"

"Yeah. He was one of the star players and got a scholarship to Southern, for like, everything."

"Good for him, I guess." I drowned a piece of waffle in excess syrup. "Why do you bring him up?"

"Well, he's coming to visit me. He asked—"

"Oh!" I gasped. "Thomas was the kid with the missing arm! I didn't know he got a scholarship, that's friggin' amazing for someone with a fake limb!"

Marcus glared at me and said "Well, yeah, that's why he's so memorable, typically. Can you not interrupt me? That's rude? Thanks." He grimaced at his eggs. "I bring him up because, for some reason I can't understand, he asked about you."

I stopped chewing. "Me?" I said. I eyed my waffles and speared another piece with my fork. "Why would he ask about me? I barely talked to him."

"You never noticed that he had a huge crush on you?"

A shit-eating grin cracked his face in two as I guffawed in response. "Marcus, are you stupid? That boy did not have a crush on me."

"He came over all the time because he wanted to see you, Noelle. I mean, he also wanted to play GTA and eat all of our fucking food, but ugh, he told me all the time how hot he thought you were. It was pretty nast."

I didn't know how to react. I was flattered that I could've been the object of someone's affection, but I was pretty sure Marcus was bullshitting me. I was a toad in high school.

I thought about Tommy. I used to think he was kind of attractive, but he was two years my junior and I wasn't into younger guys. Immaturity and a lack of muscle hadn't been, and still weren't, my type. I'd seen him play ball, though, and I was impressed by how good he was despite the missing forearm.

"When is he coming down?" I asked.

"In like, two days. I'm gonna throw a small party in my dorm, if you wanna come."

"I doubt it's gonna be a 'small party'. But yeah, I'll come."

Marcus leaned back in his seat as his plate sat empty in front of him, and said, smirking, "You wanna scope him out now, don't cha?"

"What? No. I like parties. And it'd be nice to see him again, it's been like... four years." I finished drinking my orange juice and stood up. "Okay, you need to leave, I have a class soon."

After shooing Marcus out of the apartment, my mind wandered back to Thomas. In high school, he liked to crack jokes and fuck around, but you could tell that he was also ambitious. His left arm did nothing to slow his determination, and I found that admirable.

When I was in twelfth grade, he was in tenth. Even then, he had developed this low voice that had distinctive warmth to it, although you could tell he had yet to control it. His laughter was dumb, loud and carefree, and I remembered how he would come up with any excuse to touch me. He always made a point of greeting me when he came over. I'd never had a real conversation with him, but I liked him.

When I saw the time, I mumbled a curse and ran out of my apartment.

-

I dragged Crystal by her white hand down the dorm hallway, and she whined protests with each step.

"This is gonna suck so much! Jeez, just look at how grody this hall is."

"Crystal, this is one of the best, cleanest dormitories on the whole campus. Quit bitchin', we're gonna have a nice time if you drop the sourpuss act."

At my brother's door, you could hear music pumping into the corridor. 'Small party', my ass. Marcus would use any excuse to throw some loud, code-violating shindig. He'd probably bribed the RAs with beer.

I skipped knocking and opened the door. Immediately, I was blasted with the stink of alcohol, and there must've been at least ten people stuffed into the little kitchenette. Crystal and I took off our shoes and wandered into one of the two little bedrooms.

Another six or seven people were sitting and laughing on the bed pushed up against the wall, while a few kids I recognized played Just Dance, screaming and yelling. They were intoxicated and terrible.

I spotted Marcus, and he sprung up from the bed, pulling me into a hug. He actually smelled nice.

"Hello, Noelle. How art thou this e'en?" he slurred.

"I'm fine, Marc. Say hi to Crystal."

He dragged her into a passive embrace. She sighed, "Hi, Marcus. I see you're toasted." He smiled and danced his way out of the room while Crystal plopped onto a nearby beanbag chair.

I leaned against the wall, watching the players botch almost every move. They were entertaining, but I couldn't shake my growing feeling of apprehension.

I wouldn't admit that it was Thomas making me light-chested, but it was. Turns out I remembered quite a bit about him. My brother met him in ninth grade, and they had been best friends ever since. He was at my house all the time and they spent whole summers together.

He was my brother's friend, but I realized that I knew him pretty well, too. Even if Marcus was messing with me about the whole crush thing, it psyched me out enough to make me hope that I was at least hotter than I was in high school. I mean, I thought I was. I tried to keep my dry brown skin as moisturized as possible, and since getting a job, I could afford to wear something other than hand-me-downs. I still fretted, though, hating myself for worrying so much about a guy's impression of me.

I watched Crystal survey the room from her low perch with mild interest. The dancers were sweaty with musical exhaustion and only caught her eye for a second before her gaze settled on something behind me. I turned around.

My breath left me and my eyebrows shot clear off my forehead. Jesus.

Thomas. He looked... quite a bit different.

He leaned casually on the doorframe, silently watching the drunkards mimic Beyoncé's moves. In the past, we were eye level, but now he had a few inches on me. He stood arms crossed and I almost choked noticing the fine new muscle that supported his intimidating frame. There was actual hair on his face, and of course, there was the prosthetic curled up close to his chest.

He looked amazing. I glanced back at Crystal and she was giving me the same surprised look I imagined on my own face. I turned around again and found him looking at me. Recognition sharpened his features. He smiled.

Oh my God.

"Noelle!" he called, opening up his arms. Excited and terrified, I inched closer until I was within reach, wherein he grabbed me and crushed me into his body. He was so warm... and sturdy. All of my senses were hyper-aware of his presence, and he was squeezing me so tight that I could barely breathe. I didn't mind a second. He was wearing cologne or something and I almost shuddered.

When the hug broke I felt cold and missed him immediately. I was grinning like an idiot.

He looked at me a second before saying "Y'know, you're ruder than I remember, Noelle. You didn't even try to come find me when you got here."

I laughed stupidly and shrugged.

He took his time eyeing me up and down and I felt the blood pumping through my neck. "You look... really good," he said.

"Hah, thanks." I broke his gaze, trying to think of something to say, but my mind was fried. "Uh, so. How lo-"

"Tommy! Hey!" yelled Marcus as he stumbled back into the room. "I see you've reacquainted yourself with my sister." Marcus wiggled his eyebrows and reached for Thomas' head, straightening the plastic crown that sat there.

"You're wearing the crown, why?"

"Well, I am the Guest of Honour, as Marc likes to say," said Thomas, elbowing Marcus in the gut. "Get your black ass outta here, Noelle and I need to catch up."

Marcus put his arms up in surrender and traipsed away. Thomas turned back to me and smiled. "It's been a long time," he said.

"Yeah. You look... good, too, by the way. How's Southern treating you?"

"The scholarship's nice and everything. It's funny actually, my teammates were almost pissed that they had the 'One-Armed Wonder' on their team but they're some of my closest friends now. It's great. A lot better than high school." His voice was murder.

"Anything's better than high school," I said. "What took you so long to come down and visit us? Marcus really missed you." I grinned and nodded at the idiot, who had now snapped up one of the Wiimotes, belting into it with wild abandon.

"I can tell." His attentions turned back to me. "I missed him, too. You, also."

I caught his gaze. We stared at each other for a moment.

A hand graced my shoulder. Crystal's.

"Noelle," she said, "d'you want a drink? I was gonna get something from the cooler." She looked at Thomas and smiled.

"Uh, Thomas, this is my best friend, Crystal. Crystal, this is Thomas, he's a... high school buddy."

Ever the friendly gentleman, Thomas shook her hand and greeted her. Fuck.

Crystal had a penchant for flirting with good-looking guys. She lingered a second on the handshake, then floated out of the room. I couldn't understand how she could be so apathetic one second and transform into a seasoned seductress the next.

Instantly, I felt jealous of Crystal's charms although I hated myself for it. Tommy was attractive, but I didn't want to just melt at his feet, and I didn't even know if he had a girlfriend. It'd be stupid and I'd look like a psycho if I tried to stop Crystal from flirting with him.

Thomas and I shot the breeze for a moment until she returned. She was about to hand a drink to him when she spied his arm.

"Oh my gosh, is that a fake arm? I didn't even notice it!"

Thomas winced and said, "Yeah, that's kind of the point. Nice to know that I can still fool people, though."

"That's... fascinating! Can I... Do you mind if I ask how you lost it?"

"I was a little kid. I used to go to my uncle's farm a lot, and you know how there's huge equipment all over the place..."

Crystal nodded and waited for him to continue. He started up again, and I decided to give the two some privacy since I'd already heard his story. I excused myself, and then tried to find a spot where I could sit on the bed. My friend Amy grabbed me and yanked me onto her lap, taking a swill of her beer. We heckled the dancers who were almost soaked through with sweat and I started to laugh. We and a couple other drunk losers started singing along, and I tried to ignore Tommy and Crystal on the other side of the room.

Despite myself, I glanced back a few times, and always found his eyes on me.

-

It was Saturday morning, and I jogged to the basketball court near my apartment. The boys were already there, and we waited a few minutes for my brother to show up.

I wonder if he's bringing him, I wondered.

Marcus finally rolled up with Tommy in tow. Now I was excited.

Over the past few days, I'd been thinking about the party, and I replayed the way Thomas had looked at me over and over in my mind. I decided that it was unlikely that he'd still... like me, but a dumb-ass tiny part of me wanted the opposite.

He sauntered up to us, shaking hands with the guys while Marcus dropped his gym bag and pulled out the ball.

As they started smack-talking, I examined Thomas. He'd decided not to wear his arm today, and the spot where his limb should've been was kind of bizarre to look at. He was so comfortable with his body that the empty spot looked natural, more so than what I remembered in high school. Back then, he may have been insecure about it, although it took nothing away from his attractiveness. His skin was tanned and taut, and his hair, thick, dark brown and wavy, tickled the tops of his ears.

When he came upon me he offered his hand. I took it and, standing up, thanked him.

"How's Marc treating you so far?" I asked.

"Real nice. He's such a sweetie," he cooed, glancing back at him. "Actually, all we've really done is play video games."

"Oh! Well then, couch potato, it should be extremely easy to kick your ass today."

He recoiled and clutched his hand to his beautiful chest. "Well, I never! I was gonna go easy on you but y'all can forget that now! Right, Marcus?"

"Oh no," I said. "My brother, my team. You can have any of the rest of these hood rats but Marc's on my side. Right, Marc?" He snarled at me from across the court and waved me off.

A brown arm slithered around my waist in the same moment. "Who you callin' a hood rat?"

I glanced up at Rob, a fellow player, and sighed "Aw, Bobby-boy, you know I'm just playin'. Have you met Tommy yet?"

He nodded and I patted his stomach before shoving him off. After he left, Tommy stared after him for a moment and remarked, "He's... friendly."

"Oh yeah, he's great. Pretty sure he's on your team. So," I said. "Ready?"

He grinned and pulled off his tank. Shirts versus skins.

-

"Fuck, I'm so sorry! Does it hurt?"

"No, not really. I can't believe it's bleeding so much."

"Pinch it and keep your head back. I hope I didn't break it. Fuckin' shit," Thomas said.

His large hand was on my lower back. It emanated a sensual warmth, but its power was rivaled by the throbbing in my nose. I tried focusing on his fingers touching my spine.

"Tommy, it was an accident. It's not that bad," I said with his tank top to my face, trying to laugh the whole situation off. It really was an accident, and it wasn't that painful. Kind of.

"Yeah, but it's still my fault. I don't wanna ruin your pretty little nose." He looked around. "Which way now?"

"Left," I said. "I've had nosebleeds before. They're not so bad."

"But if I've broken it, it is bad."

We walked in silence until we came upon my apartment building and I gave Thomas the keys. He let us in, and we tramped up the stairs until we got to my door.

After we entered, I was about to start looking for bandages when he told me to relax on the couch while he got the medical supplies. I directed him to the bathroom, and he returned with my things. His shirt was still off and I stole glances of his body's movements as he searched for the bandages.

In the midst of the game, things had gotten pretty intense. Sweat was rolling off of my body, and my shoelace had come loose, so I took a time-out while I tied it and caught my breath. On the sidelines, I was just about to finish the knot when the game veered toward me, and in a moment of in-game hypnosis, Thomas' knee rammed into my nose.

Apparently no one thought to bring napkins or bandages, so I opted to go home since my face had turned into a fountain of blood. Thomas, feeling (and being) responsible, offered me his shirt to halt the bleeding. I told the guys to keep playing as I laughed off my injury. Marcus raised his eyebrows, but deemed that I was okay enough to stumble the short distance to my building with Thomas as my chaperone.

"Hey, keep your head back," said Thomas, leaning toward me on the couch, wiping the blood from my nose. His touch was light. "Does it hurt when I poke it here?"

"Not really."

"How about he-"

"Ow! Yes," I squeaked.

He smirked. When he looked away my eyes fell back to his chest. It was large and covered in a light layer of hair. His stomach was wide, flat and thick. His presence was overwhelming, and I almost forgot about my nose while I stared. I imagined how smooth and firm that flesh would feel under my fingertips. I bet his throat—

"See something you like?"

I looked up at him and my lungs collapsed. His eyes bored into mine with a quirked brow and a close-lipped smile.

I didn't know what to say. "Uhm," I croaked, "could you get me some water?"

He stared at me for a second and, with a huff, rose from the couch. I admired his back as he walked away, but made sure that I wasn't busted this time.

"Your place is really nice, by the way," he called.

"Thanks, man. Oh, the glasses are in the far left cupboard, and I have a water jug in the fridge. Get yourself something to drink, too."

"I think I will."

I listened to him fumble around and closed my eyes. I didn't think my nose was broken. It was definitely sore, but the bleeding had stopped and I'd suffered worse injuries before. Keeping my face elevated, I spotted Tommy's bloody shirt and felt guilty. His nudity was a blessing but I didn't want to ruin his top. There were washing machines on the ground floor... I could clean it for him.

He returned and handed me a full glass, and I thanked him again. "I can wash your shirt for you," I said. "I don't want my nasal blood staining it."

"Okay, so I rammed my kneecap into your face, but you're offering to wash my shirt? No, you're not doing anything for the next hour."

"Fine, 'mom'. It's a nosebleed, it's not even broken. Just sore."

"You mentioned you've had nosebleeds before?"

"Mhmm. I'm kind of exhausted right now so I'll tell you the stories later."

He eyed me carefully. "Are you hungry? Maybe I should make you lunch—"

"Aw," I sighed, "Thomas, it's okay. It's not that bad, it's really not a big deal."

"I know, but it's more about how bad I feel. I'll feel less guilty if you just let me nurse you back to health a little."

I conceded. "Alright. Get in there." He got up and leapt out of the room. "Make me a sandwich!" I called, and I heard him snigger. I put my feet up on the tiny coffee table. Wow. A bloody nose turned out to be a real boon.

"What's it like making a sandwich with one arm?"

He chuckled. "Easy, when you're used to it."

I relaxed on the couch while I heard him clattering with my dishes again. I had nothing else to do that day, so I resigned myself to lying around the apartment, nursing my schnoz. Maybe I'll catch up on television...

Thomas returned with a delicious looking sandwich. I took it and dove into it greedily, realizing how hungry I was. "You should get something for yourself."

"I'm not hungry."

He watched me eat, and I got a little nervous. He was being really nice, which was refreshing. I was usually surrounded by unmannered frat brothers. He reclined further into the couch, and it seemed to me that he was relishing in his partial nudity. He tore his eyes away from me and absently rubbed his bare stomach. I repressed another shudder.

Thomas eyed my TV stand and asked "You have DVDs?"

"Yes, Thomas, what century do you think this is?"

He got up and examined the packages, tracing a long finger along each case. He stopped at a collection of the X-Files.

"Dude, you have this?" he said as he pulled out a DVD. "I remember this show!" He was grinning like a little kid, holding the package with the same amount of reverence and awe that a new father has holding his newborn baby. "Can we watch this?"

"Yeah, do whatever you want. I was just thinking that I was gonna chill out here for the rest of the day anyway."

He turned all the proper devices on and inserted the disc. I patted the cushion beside me and he took a seat. "Uh," I said. "Marcus left a few shirts here, if you wanna grab one." I could smell the sweat off of his body and it was... doing things to me. He smelled delicious.

He smirked and said "Nah, I'm good." He craned his smooth neck toward me and whispered, "Am I making you uncomfortable?"