White Horses

(1984)

(This also isn't finished. Sorry for being lazy, guys.)

 

When the doorbell rang at the front of the house, unease and excitement mixed in her chest, making her heart quicken.

 

Fred looked up from the strings of his beat-up acoustic guitar as Kayla ran past him. "What's the rush, baby?"

 

"You need to stop calling me that. I don't think Tom will appreciate it." she said.

 

He rolled his eyes and went back to strumming a tune. In an almost perfect British accent, he sang, "I know I've dreamed you, a sin and a lie. I have my freedom, but I don't have much time. Faith has been broken, tears must be cried. Let's do some living, after we die."

When Kayla reached the foyer, she stopped, check her too-tight Guns N Roses T-shirt to be sure she wasn't revealing too much skin, and then pulled open the door.

"Hey," she said, seeing Tom standing on the porch.

"How's it going?" He shot her a gorgeous grin.

"It's going good. Come in." She opened the door and he sauntered inside, his boots thudding heavily against the wood floor.

Fred stopped strumming inconspicuously, watching Tom as he walked into the room, his hands tucked warmly inside the pockets of his coat.

 

He laughed internally. What the hell does Kayla see in this pretty boy, he thought. Fred looked over Tom's ridiculous outfit with a smug grin. The sleeves of his floor-length coat were fringed. It reminded Fred of something he once saw in an old western movie. His black button-up shirt remained unbuttoned, exposing a pale and lanky torso. Tom's jeans were way too tight-fitting and a pair of ivory snake skin boots were pulled over his ankles.

 

Kayla came back into the room, rubbing her hands together. "It's cold out there, isn't it?"

 

"It's not too bad. I'm just glad I got the heat fixed in my car." Tom said over a shoulder as Kayla made her way to the couch.

 

Fred would bet money that he took his car to the local repair shop. Tom really didn't seem capable of fixing a car. God forbid he get a little grease on his fancy boots.

 

"You can have a seat, Tom." Kayla plopped down beside Fred and grabbed a throw pillow from behind him. She hugged it against her chest, squeezing the poor thing until she was comfortable. "You know Fred. He won't bite."

 

Tom nodded his head. "I do. Hey, Freddie."

 

"Only girls call me Freddie."

 

Tom looked over to Kayla, then back to Fred. "Oh," he breathed. "I'm sorry. Just Fred, then."

 

"Thanks," Fred twisted his pick between the greasy strings of his guitar and set it against the coffee table. "You two want to be alone, right?"

 

Kayla laughed nervously and said, "We're just gonna watch a few movies. You can stay if you want."

 

He thought about it for a brief moment, but decided against it when he saw the desperate look on Tom's face. Fred was sure that Kayla wouldn't have known what he was thinking, even if she looked over at him that very second. It was a guy thing. Fred just knew. If Tom didn't get anything more than an innocent good night kiss on the first date, he was damn sure to try for second base tonight.

 

Fred sighed and picked up his guitar. "Don't worry about me. I'm just going to go upstairs. Try not to make too much noise, either. I'll be in bed early."

 

Kayla shot him a glare as he stood from the couch and waved at Tom.

 

"I'll see you another time, pretty boy."

 

"Good night, Freddie." Tom said with a shit-eating grin.

 

Fred ignored him and disappeared up the stairs.

 

When Kayla heard the door slam, she turned to Tom and smiled. "Can I get you anything? There's cold beer in the fridge. Ren picked some up earlier."

 

He nodded his head and started toward the couch. "Sure, I'll take one."

 

Kayla pulled herself up and made her way into the kitchen. Walking past the island, she rolled her eyes at a bowl of warm milk and plastic Poptart wrapper. Although she was a bit disgusted, a smile crept across her face and she found herself thinking more of Fred. Where would she be without him? Oh, that's right, she thought. She'd probably be living under a bridge in Downtown Philly.

 

A flicker of the lights brought Kayla out of her reverie.

 

"Sorry," Tom called. "I hit the wrong light. Why the fuck is the kitchen light switch in the living room anyway?"

 

She laughed to herself and grabbed two beers from the fridge before strutting out to meet Tom on the couch. She handed one over and said, "We don't know. This is an old house."

 

He pulled the hem of his shirt up in one hand to get a tight and comfortable grip on the bottle's cap. Kayla could see a sliver of his stomach, a line of dark hair trailing into his jeans. There was a pop and Tom brought the bottle to his lips.

 

"Your friend," he said with a lick of his lips. "Doesn't like me very much, does he?"

 

Kayla turned her head to stare down at the bottle in her hands. "I think he does. He's probably just trying to give you a hard time. Fred can be like that sometimes. I don't know why he does it. To be an asshole, I guess."