This story will contain sexual acts between two adult males. I am not, nor do I know the celebrities involved. I do not know their sexual preferences. If you are not of legal age, please direct yourself to another site. If you enjoy Nifty, please donate!
This chapter is dedicated to Daniel and Fanofdrama. Thank you for the encouraging emails!
Admittedly, there is no sex in this chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway!
-------------------------------------------------- Tom Holland and I - Chapter 2 --------------------------------------------------
I woke to Tessa licking me excitedly, her hot breath blasting my face. "Tessa, stop. STOP, oh my fucking god. Get off! TOM!"
I heard Tom chuckling as he came into the room. "Come on, Tessie. Daddy's up. Leave him alone. Come on!" Tessa hopped off the bed as I wiped the drool off of my face and grumpily rolled onto my stomach. I begrudgingly opened one eye to grab my phone, then sat bolt upright as I read the time.
"TOM, DID YOU TURN OFF MY ALARM?!"
He poked his head out of the closet, his face confused but surprisingly bright for someone who was pass out inebriated a mere eight hours prior. "Well... yeah. I mean, I just pushed it back like... thirty minutes. Because I woke you up last night. I wanted you to get some sleep." I groaned deeply. Obviously, his intentions were pure, but we had obligations.
"Babe, we're on a schedule," I sighed, throwing myself out of bed. "If we're late leaving, we're late to breakfast. If we're late to breakfast, Ami and Rutger are late. Subsequently, if they're late, they're probably staying with us overnight because they're not going to be able to get another flight out. I love them, but I need them out of this country. One week with my siblings is enough."
Tom's brow furrowed and he turned his gaze downward. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would make that much difference." Little fucker was playing the guilt card.
And I fell for it.
"It's... fine," I relented, pulling him into my arms. "We're only... fifteen minutes behind."
HIs face broke into a smile. "Guess we'll have to shower together. To save time." I rolled my eyes, but gave Tom a little kiss anyway. "Only if you can keep your hands to yourself," I said firmly. "And, only if you've walked Tessa."
"Walked and fed."
"Come on then."
A few minutes later, Tom's hands were most definitely roaming under the pretense of washing my body as I shampooed my hair. As my hair reached past my shoulders, it was quite the task to wash away all the filth that Tom and I got into, but I enjoyed feeling his fingers tracing over my skin. When he lingered a bit too long on my nether regions, I spared a hand to playfully swat him away. I responded to his predictable, hokey pout with a quick smooch. Tom lingered on my lips, not even really kissing them, just touching. In the background, music blasted from his phone, as per usual when he showered.
Before any inappropriate behavior could commence, I ushered Tom out of the shower and dried off. He headed into the bedroom to lay out clothes and I very quickly towel dried my hair and threw whatever product I could into it. As I brushed my teeth, I took the chance to look myself over in the mirror. I stood just at six foot one and, depending on my diet and how much of my food Tom absconded with, usually floated around two hundred pounds. I didn't have nor did I aspire to a six pack but I kept adequately active, usually playing in the park with Tessa while we were in London and semi-regularly visiting the gym back in the states. I was by no stretch of the imagination hirsute, but I did have a very fine dusting of dark hair.
My birth parents, from what I was told, were Lebanese. I had never met them, so I couldn't tell you if I resembled them or not. But, I always imagined that I had inherited my strong, angular jawline from my father along with the accompanying persistent stubble. In direct opposition, I envisioned that my dark, almond-shaped eyes came from my mother. Someone once described them as `sleepy eyes that had an air of mystery'.
He was also a drunkard at a movie premiere who was trying to take me home, so I took the statement with a grain of salt.
If you asked Tom what his favorite body part was, he would immediately and energetically tell you that he was drawn to my lips. I had always known that my lips were... nice, but Tom would and had often described them as if they were godlike, fluffy pillows of pleasure. A little big, a little pouty, yes. But, by no means Angelina status.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, my phone began to buzz on the bed. Tom was closer and scooped it up, putting it on speakerphone as I rummaged through the dresser. "Hey, Ami!"
"Hey, Tom. Is Bash nearby?"
"I'm here," I replied, bracing myself. It was only a matter of seconds before she said something snarky. "I'm assuming that, since you haven't responded to any of my texts, you haven't left yet."
Record time.
"I would be on the road already but SOMEONE..." I said shooting a pointed glance at Tom. "... reset my alarm so I woke up fifteen minutes later than planned."
"Let me guess. You were up all night fucking." I shook my head as Tom's eyes bulged. "I can't trust you two horny ass bastards, I swear. Fortunately for you, unfortunately for us, our flight is delayed by two hours anyway. Storms over the Atlantic apparently. So, we're fine. I mean, Rutger is pissed because he's hungry and hungover, but that's normal."
I pulled on whatever underwear I touched and some maroon shorts. "We will be out the door in five minutes. It's fifteen minutes to the hotel."
"All right. See you soon, BaBa."
Her nickname for me evoked a smile as I pulled on a black t-shirt with a random graphic across the chest. "Get Rutger together. I am sure he hasn't finished packing!" I yelled before she hung up. Tom approached me just as I picked out some Venom socks and slid into them. He said nothing, simply cupped my face in his hands and stared into my eyes. Another smile played across my face as I stared back. "Get dressed," I said. "I'm hungry."
Tom dropped his towel with a flick of his hand and trotted off into the closet. I gathered my things and made my way downstairs, making sure that he had actually fed Tessa. We wouldn't be gone for long, but she was spoiled and prone to misbehavior if she didn't get what she wanted when she wanted. She spared only a second to glance in my direction before diving back into her bowl, crunching away at her kibble. I pulled on a maroon pair of Doc Martens, my all time favorite shoes, and laced them up. By the time I finished, Tom was making his way downstairs.
"That's what you're wearing to breakfast with my siblings?" I asked carefully, eyebrow raised. Tom looked down as if someone else had dressed him. "Do you think it's too much?"
As obsessed as I was with Doc Martens, I was nowhere near as bad as Tom was about this specific brand of shorts. For his birthday and admittedly my own motives, I had bought him a pair of Woof shorts. They were no more than four inches long, mesh and designed to be worn commando. They were like basketball shorts, but for gays who wanted someone to look their way. And, I couldn't help but do just that as they complimented his ass perfectly and drew quite a lot of attention to his package. Since he discovered them, Tom had bought about twenty pairs in all different colors and all different fabrics. He customarily only wore them around the house, but I guess he was feeling adventurous. His slightly wan legs were in complete contrast to the dark grey shorts hugging his thighs. Combined with the white tank, black sneakers, and brown waves framing his face, he was quite the vision. If only we weren't running late.
"Exactly the opposite," I said, stepping up to him. "I might not be able to keep my hands to myself."
Tom rolled his eyes and playfully shoved me away. "Well, you'd better. If I get hard in these shorts, I won't be able to hide it." I swatted him on the ass as we made our way to the car, Tom climbing in the passenger side. I slid on my sunglasses, round and mirrored red, and backed out of the garage. We were only a few blocks away when my phone began to ring again. This time, however, it was a video call. I handed it to Tom who mounted it on the dash as he answered.
"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Gooden!"
From my father, a sleepy chuckle. "Tom. How may times do we have to go through this?"
"Ooh, sorry. I mean, hi, Mr. Matthew! Hi, Miss Joan!"
It was my mother's turn to laugh as she bundled herself in a thick robe and sidled up next to Dad. "One of these days, we're gonna break that habit of yours. Bash, baby, you doing okay?" I nodded toward the screen as I turned onto the highway. "I'm good, Mom. What's up?"
"Well, I thought you'd be with Ami and Rutger. Did you get them yet?"
Tom answered before I could throw him under the bus. "My fault! We got up late, sorry! We're on our way to get them now!" He threw an apologetic smile my way. Mom yawned widely, hiding her face behind her hand. "That sounds about right. Please make sure your brother sends us his flight information. I got the flight out of Heathrow, but I didn't get Rutger's flight to Chicago."
"I will let him know," I replied.
"Thank you, baby."
"Do you want me to call you when I grab them or are you going back to bed? What is it, 2AM there?"
Dad grunted. "It sure is and we will be asleep in the next five minutes. We have church in the morning."
"YOU have church in the morning," Mom corrected quickly. "I will be asleep until noon."
I couldn't help but laugh as Dad rolled his eyes. He fought back a yawn before snapping his fingers. "Tom, I almost forgot. We sent you a package. It should be there... today? Tomorrow? One or the other."
"Aw, thank you!" Tom beamed. "That's really nice!"
I sneered at the camera. "You're buying my boyfriend gifts, but you don't buy me gifts?"
"Excuse you," my mother said, eyebrows raised. "We ordered you out of that magazine and raised you. That WAS the gift." As Tom and Dad laughed, I feigned a look of annoyance. "Well, I hope you kept the receipt because I want to be reimbursed for my years of trauma."
"I sure did. We keep it between your high school diploma and your embarrassing school photos."
"Rude."
The laughter still hadn't faded as my father put his arm around Mom's shoulders. "All right, you two. We're going back to bed. Bashir, tell Ami and Rutger to message us when they take off and when they land." The use of my full first name meant that I would be in trouble if I didn't do just that. "Yes, sir."
Mom blew us a quick kiss. "Love y- oh! Real quick, baby. You're still going to see Ollie when you get back, right?"
"Yeah, Tom and I are going up there... two days after we get back, I believe."
"Okay, because they called me today. His doctor wanted to talk about his meds and some erratic behavior. He's fine, but I just wanted to let you know for when you get there."
"Got it. I'll give them a call once we get back to the States."
We said our goodbyes and Tom ended the call. When it came to parents, I had won the lottery. For the longest time, they were unable to have a child of their own, so they applied to adopt me. Technically, I was their first child. But, against all odds, within a month of starting my adoption process, they found out they were pregnant with Ami. She was their only biological child, but they had never treated the rest of us any differently. Ami and I ended up being about a month apart with her in the lead, Rutger was adopted about a year later and Ollie about two years after him.
As adults, we joked a lot about the diversity of our little brood. Ami, of course, took after our parents' Nigerian and African American heritage. My birth parents were Lebanese. Rutger's ancestry was from somewhere in Sweden and it showed in his pale skin and stereotypical blonde-hair-blue-eyed combo. Ollie we weren't sure about and he never cared to ask; all we knew was that his family was from the Midwest. He had always referred to himself as Plain Jane in comparison to us, which always seemed like self-deprecation to strangers, but it was absolutely his little joke. Ollie had always been handsome, even in his shyness.
"Babe?"
"Yeah?"
"The exit's coming up."
I snapped back to reality and merged over. Tom reached over and rubbed my neck gently. "You okay?"
"Of course. Just thinking."
I could see Tom's brow furrow slightly. "About Oliver?"
"About why my parents are always spoiling you when I'm their actual child."
Tom groaned annoyedly before pushing my shoulder. "Don't be such a baby. You should be happy your parents love me."
"They merely LIKE you. Don't push it."
That comment earned me a full smack on the shoulder, which I responded to by giving Tom a quick, playful fist to the chest. He grabbed my arm, giggling as he refused to let go. I managed to pinch his skin, evoking a loud yelp. He bit me on the wrist. The playfulness was part of the reason I loved him. As well as the fact that he had hit the nail on the head. I was worried about Ollie. But, I didn't really want to talk about it at the moment, so I deflected.
"You'll be seeing him in just over a week," Tom said suddenly, his fingers now intertwined in mine. "And, I'm sure he's fine. Otherwise, Miss Joan would've said so."
Apparently, I hadn't deflected as well as I thought. I opted to not respond, so Tom raised my hand to his lips and kissed the back of my hand gently. Within minutes, we pulled up to the hotel and, before I could even grab my phone, Ami and Rutger came walking out.
Well, more accurately, Ami came strutting out. As always, her warm, brown skin was glowing with just a hint of blush on her high cheekbones. She wore a long sleeve, black turtleneck tucked into a pair of high waisted, hunter green gauchos and black suede, peep-toe stilettos. Atop it all, short cropped hair in all shades of pink. Hanging on one elbow was a metallic silver Telfar bag to match the slim belt around her waist.
Behind her came Rutger looking more like a beleaguered tourist father than anything else. He was clad in what was definitely a Tommy Bahama button up, bright blue and adorned with parrots, what I would call `sensible' Dockers khakis and brown boat shoes. His normally coiffed hair was a little disheveled and it looked like he hadn't brushed his beard in days. The cheap, plastic sunglasses over his eyes cemented the whole look. Rutger grunted as he threw the bags in the back and they climbed in.
"Hey guys!" Tom greeted.
"Hi, Tom," Ami smiled. Rutger replied with a grunt.
I swiveled in the seat and stared at him. "How hungover are you?"
"Fuck off," he growled. "If it weren't for your boyfriend and his friends, I would've gone to bed on time and not been drinking tequila until two in the morning."
"Hey, I left at eleven thirty!" Tom cried. "I have nothing to do with what happened after that! Blame Sebastian and Anthony, not me."
"You didn't tell me those two were in town," I said as I pulled off. "How long will they be here?" Ami answered from the back seat. "They're flying out this afternoon. They're probably still upstairs fucking each other's brains out." I snorted.
Rutger shook his head. "Why do you guys always say that? Anthony is married. To a WOMAN."
Tom turned around in the seat as Ami scoffed. "Oh, please. Anthony may love his wife, but those two are hard for each other and have been since god knows when. Sebastian was basically in his lap all night. I'm telling you they went upstairs and just ruined that bedspread." Tom and I cackled as Rutger grimaced in disgust. "You guys are sick."
"What's sick is that shirt," I replied. "You dress like you're going to Six Flags Over The Shittier Parts of Tallahassee."
"Better than this chick over here!" he shot back, gesturing at Ami. "Who takes an international flight in heels?" She didn't even look in his direction, but held up one finger, wagging it only once. "Ah ah. Don't come for me while you look this raggedy." I smiled as the argument continued, Tom chiming in to occasionally compliment one or both of them. By the time we pulled up to the restaurant valet, Rutger was vehemently arguing the merits of comfortability over fashion. Ami wrapped her arm in his as we walked inside. "My sweet little brother, we will have to agree to disagree. I am incredibly comfortable right now. And, I know I look great. You, on the other hand, are comfortable and look like a bum."
He opened his mouth to snap back, but I cut them both off. "Can you two give it a rest? Please?" I was met with two looks of incredulity. Then, from Ami, "You started it." I rolled my eyes as Tom confirmed the reservation and we were guided to a reclusive table. More than a few people reacted to Tom's presence and he responded with a friendly wave to all of them. When one young woman excitedly flashed her Spider-Man keychain, he trotted over to her and took a selfie with her. He chatted with her for a bit, even giving her a quick hug, then joined us at the table.
"I can't imagine not being able to go anywhere without being recognized," Ami said as she perused the menu. Tom shrugged. "It's not that bad. Most people are really nice and it's kinda cool to, you know, be a part of something that makes people happy." I leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, admiring his sincerity.
"Speaking of being recognized, how's... all this going?" Rutger asked, waving his hand at us.
I felt my face contort in confusion. "All what, exactly?"
"Being public? Tom coming out to the world?"
While Tom hadn't come out per se, it was true that we had stopped hiding our relationship right before we had come to London. Tom had brought it up months prior and we had talked about the decision and it's potential ramifications for quite some time. For me, it wasn't that drastic as I had never had any particular reason to hide my sexuality. However, for Tom, it could be something that caused him issue in his career. As awful as it is to say it, that is the way of the world currently.
But, Tom had talked to me, his family, his management team and his friends and decided that it was worth the risk. There was no formal announcement or regalia. We simply treated each other the same way we had been for the past almost four years except... in public. Of course, the paparazzi had glommed onto it almost immediately. Tom and I were out shopping in L.A. for the trip, holding hands and, within a day, there were articles and tweets and Instagram posts. There were the occasional slurs and "I'll never watch Spider-Man again" comments, but, for the most part, people just congratulated us and commented, sometimes graphically, on how good we looked together. For me, the biggest adjustment was the sudden influx of social media followers. Of course, I had never posted anything about or containing Tom, but now it was encouraged.
Tom shrugged and looked at me. "I dunno. I mean... nothing's really changed for us. It's actually a lot easier now that we're not hiding anything. Feels more normal, I suppose."
"We will see how things are when we return," I added. "And, speaking of returning, Rutger, send your Chicago flight information to Mom and Dad. I received an earful this morning and I will not be punished for your fuck ups." I pointed to Ami and Tom while he glowered at me over the menu. "You're my witnesses."
The server, a young man by the name of Vincent, soon joined us at the table. To no one's surprise, Rutger ordered a glass of Scotch. Tom and I opted out, but encouraged Ami to get a drink as well. "Are you all ready to order your meals or would you like more time?" the server asked. He was certainly attractive and I noticed his eyes lingering over our clasped hands. Ami looked at me. "Are you ready? You haven't even picked up the menu."
"Tom will order for me." Sure enough, when it came around to our turn, he chose for the both of us. Ami looked at me curiously as the server took our menus. "Is that what you wanted?"
"I'm sure it'll be fine. Plus, this one is going to eat most of it anyway."
"Am not!" Tom chided. "It sounded like something you'd like!"
"You just ordered the two things YOU wanted and will pass one off as mine." Tom paused, then sneered playfully. "You think you're so clever."
The chatter continued, mostly about Ami's work as a public health researcher and Tom's upcoming projects. When the food came, Tom had chosen quite well. In front of him, a duck and waffle combination. And for "me", a salmon hollandaise. When I asked for two small plates, Tom gave my leg an appreciative squeeze. We all dug in quickly. At one point, I leaned over the plate and almost dipped my hair into the eggs. I turned to Tom who already had his wrist out and waiting. "Have I mentioned that I love you?" I laughed.
"I could hear it again."
From around his wrist, I pulled off one of the three hair ties and set about putting my hair back. As I had been growing my hair since Tom and I started dating and as I constantly lost hair ties, Tom just started carrying them around whenever we were together. It's such a habit for him that he is unwittingly wearing them in a couple shots from Far From Home. "Love you."
"What are you doing with your hair for the wedding?" Ami asked. I raised an eyebrow as I finished setting my hair into a loose bun. "I think the question is what do you want me to do with it?"
"I don't want to ask you to do something you don't want to," she replied. "I just want to know what you're thinking."
"Ami, I honestly haven't thought about it. It's YOUR wedding and it's not for another couple months. I'm waiting for you to tell me what to do." She had obviously predicted this response and put her cutlery down. "Bash, it's not like I've done this before. Jess is more the planner than I am but you're my man of honor and I'm just trying to get this sorted out early."
"Well, what is she thinking?"
"Something with flowers. Maybe in the hair."
At this, Rutger looked up from his mostly eaten plate. "I'm not putting flowers in my hair. I love you, but I won't."
Ami rolled her eyes and cast a sideways glance at him. "One, you're not in my bridal party, so I wasn't asking you. Two, that's a weird hill to die on. I thought you had been raised with better morals than this heteronormative idea of masculinity."
Rutger stared blankly before he spoke. "Who the hell said anything about masculinity? My allergies will go crazy." Beside me, Tom snorted loudly into his water. "Jesus, Ami. We're talking about my bisexual sister's wedding in which my homosexual brother is actively participating. The fuck are you talking about?" He threw an extra glare her way to emphasize his point.
"I can never be too sure," she replied. "You dress like a frat douche."
Rutger dropped his fork onto the plate dramatically and stood up. "All right, enough. My outfit is not terrible. I do not dress like a bum." He suddenly looked past us and gestured at our waiter to come over. "Excuse me! Can I borrow you for one second?" Ami put her face in her palm, sighing heavily and cursing under her breath. Tom, mouth full of salmon, looked on in fascination. Vincent joined us quickly, unaware of the whirlwind of ridiculousness he was about to be pulled into.
"Yes, sir? What can I do for you?"
"Vincent, you seem like a reasonable human, unlike these yokels I'm eating with."
Tom, through a mouthful, "Hey! I complimented you."
"That's true," Rutger said quickly. "Unlike these TWO yokels I'm eating with. So let me ask you, and be honest... what do you think of my outfit?" To give Vincent a fair view, he stretched out his arms and did a full turn. Ami's face was still in her hand.
Vincent glanced at me, a bemused expression on his face. I had no response except a small shrug and a raised eyebrow. He looked back to Rutger who was waiting eagerly. "I'd say... it looks very comfortable and is... a reflection of your personal style."
Rutger threw his hands up as if he'd won an award. "Comfortable! Personal style! Thank you, Vincent!"
"Hold on," Ami said, face still buried. "We already agreed that your outfit is comfortable. And, `reflection of personal style' isn't exactly a compliment. It's not an insult, but it's not a compliment. It's just an assessment." Vincent's face flushed a distinct red. I couldn't help but exacerbate the issue. "Additionally, there was a slight pause right at the beginning. Just a modicum of hesitancy." Ami's face finally appeared and she pointed at me in agreement.
Rutger slumped slightly, arms still held high. "Vincent... do you... not like my outfit?"
"It's... not something I would personally wear, but that doesn't mean it doesn't look good on you!" Vincent was very obviously trying to make Rutger feel better. The next words out of his mouth, however, had the exact opposite effect. "I mean, my dad would like it!"
Ami lurched forward and let out a sound comparable to what I can only describe as a donkey being startled. I covered my mouth to avoid doing the same. Tom muttered a small, "Aw..." as Rutger slumped into his seat. "May I have another Scotch, please?" he said quietly. Vincent basically ran away from the table, blushing furiously. I was trying so hard not to laugh as Rutger resumed eating, his face halfway dejected and halfway defiant. Ami's head was still hanging over her plate and I could see the tremors of her silent laughter. When she finally sat up, she used her napkin to wipe the tears out of her eyes. "I could not have asked for a better send off," she giggled.
"You two are sick in the head," Rutger muttered. "Bullying your own brother." Ami rubbed his back and gave him an exaggerated sad face. "You know we love you, Roo."
He snarled.
We finished our meals and Ami grabbed another drink while we whittled away the time we had. It was about a thirty to forty minute drive to the airport if there was no traffic, so we still had a little time. Ami and I chatted more about her wedding, Tom and Rutger ended up in a debate about soccer versus football. When we finally asked for the bill, all four of our hands landed on it at the same time. I sighed. "You all know the drill."
We settled it the only way my family knew how: rock, paper, scissors. Tom had witnessed this sort of debacle enough to know exactly what was happening. We all stood, one clenched fist out. We would keep going until only one of us remained. Why it was such a competition to treat each other, I'll never fully understand. Our parents had always raised us to take care of each other and anyone we could. So, I suppose it was simply instilled in us to provide.
As the youngest two, Rutger and Tom went first. Tom lost and sat back, pouting in his seat. Next was myself versus Ami. She threw paper against my scissors, mumbling her dissent. Rutger cracked his knuckles melodramatically. "You're going down, man bun."
"Bring it on, DAD."
We both threw rock. We squared up again... and both of us threw paper. At this point, Ami and Tom were silent, fully invested in the spectacle. In the back of my mind, I knew how ridiculous this entire scene was, but it's what family does. I flexed my wrists as Rutger eyed me. Third time's the charm.
We came down once, twice and... I threw rock.
Rutger threw paper.
"Hell yeah!"
I plopped down in my chair and tossed the bill at Rutger. "Whatever. Your shirt is still abhorrent. Pay it and let's go so I can be rid of you two."
As we headed to the exit, the manager approached us. "Sorry to be a bother, Mr. Holland, but I was wondering if perhaps you would be so kind as to take a photo with the staff? It's not often we have someone so well known at our restaurant." Tom beamed. "Absolutely! It's my pleasure!" She ushered her staff over and they gathered around us. I stood behind Tom, my arms around his waist. Ami and Rutger flanked us. I couldn't help but chuckle as Rutger put his arm over Vincent's shoulder. We took a couple shots and Tom thanked the manager before demanding to take a picture with her since she wasn't in the group shot.
We all piled into the car and took off toward the airport. I harassed Rutger about sending the flight info to our parents until Ami got annoyed and sent it herself. Tom was preoccupied on his phone, which wasn't uncommon. He was usually juggling a few projects at once and we had been away from L.A. for almost a month. I had quite a few emails I needed to answer as well, but this was vacation.
As we got closer, we began our goodbyes. On a Sunday morning, there were a lot of international flights leaving and airport traffic would be horrendous. I pulled up to the curb with minimal honking and threw the car in park. Ami was already hugging Tom tightly as I got her bag out of the back. "Seriously," he was saying. "I'm insanely excited. Call me if you need absolutely anything."
"Jess is handling pretty much all of it, but I will let you know," she laughed.
Rutger looked at me and rolled his eyes. "Wedding," he mouthed. He then held out his arms and pulled me into a bear hug. "You're, uh... you're going to see Ollie when you get back?" he asked. I nodded, my head on his shoulder. "Good. Tell Plain Jane I love him. And, I love you, too, BaBa."
"Love you, too, Roo."
We traded siblings and Ami sighed contentedly as I enveloped her. "I really, really need you two to come to New York before the wedding," she said. "Jess misses you. And, I do, too."
"Someone's gotta stay on the west coast since you and Rutger ran off," I chuckled. "Unless you'd prefer Mom and Dad move out there and be all up in your business. Just imagine them being within driving distance."
"Oh, god, no."
We laughed, then found ourselves crushed by Rutger's arms in a sibling-three-person hug. As much as we complained about each other and bickered and fought, these were my people. Even though we hadn't lived together for years, it was always rough to separate from them. Especially Ami. Maybe it was our closeness in age or the fact that she was my only sister, but she and I had a special bond.
I heard a camera click and looked over Ami's shoulder to see Tom snapping away with his phone. "Come on! Real picture!" he said. Rutger and I turned to frame Ami, smiling broadly as Tom snapped away. He then politely asked someone passing by to take a picture and jumped in with us. As they returned the phone, I could see a look of vague recognition on their face. Ami hitched her bag over her shoulder and lifted her suitcase handle. "If they're good, send them to me. If not, I don't want to know about it." She looked at me. "And, don't go posting any shitty ones on your Instagram. You've been doing me dirty all week."
"Don't you have a flight to catch?"
"I'll miss you, too," she laughed as she began towards the terminal entrance. Rutger was a few feet behind her, throwing us a small wave. He almost smacked into a random woman who looked at him and said, "I really like that shirt!" He turned back to us, mouthed "Fuck yeah!" and threw his arms up in joy.
Tom and I waved them off until we couldn't see them in the crowd, then clambered back into the Range. I took one last look in their general direction before I pulled off the curb and started home.
Thanks for reading! As always, feel free to e-mail me and let me know what you think, what you would like to see or even if you just want to say thanks or anything!
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