Free Thomas & January by Fisher Amelie

until nine. I dragged myself off the bed and threw the door open.
    January stood at my feet, absolutely breathtaking and in one of the sexiest outfits I’d ever seen. The kicker? She was practically covered from head to toe, go figure.
    “Is this okay?” she asked, frantic.
    “What?” I asked, dazed from her sheer presence.
    “Is this okay? For tonight? I have no idea what’s appropriate anymore. People in the city don’t dress like we do in Austin, Tom.” I got a kick out of the fact that she associated me with Austin although I’d lived in New York my entire life. “So, I figured it was the same for Dublin.” Her face bunched. “Help me?”
    “This is fine,” I said, not exactly telling the truth. The truth was, she made me want to rethink wanting to be alone. If she were my girl, Temple Bar could suck it and I’d just stay here, in this room with her, memorizing her face with my fingers and mouth.
    “Are you sure?” she asked.
    “Yes, I’m sure.” I stepped inside and she followed, shutting the door behind her.
    “Why aren’t you ready?”
    “Truthfully? You woke me up. If you hadn’t stopped by, I would’ve probably missed meeting you downstairs.”
    “I’m sorry. Did you want to bail?” she asked. “I don’t mind going alone.”
    Not if you paid me a million dollars , I thought, sinking another nail into my coffin.
              “No, I’m cool now. I want to get out and listen to a few bands.”
              “All right, I’ll meet you downstairs then.”
    I closed the door behind her and showered and dressed for Temple Bar quickly. I sat in front of the small mirror above my sink and wondered what the hell I was doing. I had no intention of looking for bands that night. I just wanted to stare at January. Oh, yeah, and make sure Ailin or anyone else for that matter, didn’t . I took a long look at myself in the mirror. I was twenty-two years old and appeared thirty, but that wasn’t because I physically looked thirty. It was because I wore my bitterness on my face like a second coat. I briefly thought for a moment if January could help me shed that coat but shrugged it off. I needed to remember that January would more than likely hurt the hell out of me and then I’d be an even bigger jerk than I already was and, to be honest, I was tired of being a jerk. It was wearing.
    I took the stairs into the lobby below. The friendly desk clerk pointed outside. I opened the door and found January sitting on the stoop below me so I joined her.
    “You ready?” I asked.
    “Yup.” She stood and wiped the dirt off her black skinny jeans. She carefully balanced herself down the steps on her ridiculous black heels.
    “You’re gonna break an ankle,” I observed before grabbing her arm. A thick, syrupy heat spread through my hand and laced its way up into my chest, making another icy layer crack and spit in anger.
    When she reached the walk, I let go like my hand had been at a hot stove. We walked in silence to Gogarty’s, my hand repeatedly wanting to guide her by her lower back around potholes or stumps. I had to ring my arm in every time it reached out.
    Gogarty’s was packed even for a Friday from what I could remember, all tourists, but the unbelievable traditional music there was enough to wrangle even a few locals. The door swung open and we were hit with the fragrance of classic Irish cuisine, in other words, a bunch of meat and potatoes, and yeast but the music, the music that filled the pub was truly tangible. It rang in the air and swept over each expectant ear, swirling to the rooftop and guided back down. It was beautiful, incredibly beautiful.
    Ailin saw us from across the bar and waved us over. We weaved our way through and he gestured to two empty seats beside him. January sat directly next to him and I next to her, but I got right back up.
    “What’ll you have?” I asked.
    “Uh,” she said, looking around, unsure.
    My brows narrowed. “Do you