Trashed and Scattered

Jimmy was distracted all day. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stay focused. He grew frustrated with himself quickly, which only escalated his lack of focus. By four in the afternoon, he was ready to throw in the towel. Both in the studio and in his life.
He'd never been so torn in his life. He'd strolled through his existence with little regard for anyone else or anyone that told him 'no'. But what was he supposed to do when it was his own voice screaming to stop?
His mind obsessed about Peyton. He worked back and forth from relief to have her back, and regret for letting himself get lost in the reunion. He owed Peyton the truth; he knew that. But what was the truth? That he'd settled for someone because he thought, at the time, that it was what he wanted? But in the twenty-four hours since he'd set eyes on her for the first time in over a decade, he'd felt more connected to her than he had to anyone in his entire life? That he'd felt more from their brief kiss than he'd ever felt from his girlfriend?
Or was the truth simply that he had a girlfriend?
He rubbed at his temples to try and sooth the ache. He was entirely unsure what to make of the whole encounter; maybe it was a one-off, spur of the moment experience that was unlikely to repeat itself.
As he slumped into a chair out back with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, he felt about as good as mold. He'd simultaneously, though accidentally, cheated on his girlfriend whilst misleading Peyton.
Was it misleading though? Really? He'd wanted to kiss her from the split second he caught sight of her. He'd made absolutely no move to stop her advance...and he'd escalated what could have been a simple and sweet gesture.
"God," he growled to himself.
"Yes?" Brian grinned as he sank into the chair next to his friend.
Jimmy adjusted his glasses, scolding himself for not seeing Brian coming.
"What's up, Rat?" Brian asked knowingly. "You're all off-kilter today...Abnormally well behaved. What's going on?"
"I fucked up, man," Jimmy confessed right away, seeing absolutely no point in shitting around the pot.
Brian tilted his head, "What did you do?"
"Peyton," he sighed. "She, uh...kissed me...and I may or may not have kissed her back."
Brian let out a satisfied chuckle, "Shit, Jim."
"I don't know what's wrong with me," Jimmy confessed sadly. "I feel like a sack of shit. Feed me spiders, that's what I deserve."
His brown eyed friend laughed loudly, "That escalated quickly. Shit happens sometimes, man. I wouldn't beat yourself up about it."
Jimmy wasn't convinced.
"Look," Brian sighed, pausing only to light the cigarette dangling from his lips, "It makes total sense. Peyton shows up after how fucking long...Totally sidewinds you...I know what you guys had, man...I get it. It makes total sense that you'd confuse what was happening.
Jimmy nodded slowly, "Yeah...I guess."
"Besides," Brian grinned. "Who wouldn't want to hit that?"
With a roll of his eyes, Jimmy moved Brian passed the topic of Peyton's ass--not that Jimmy wasn't a particular fan of the subject.
"She seems cool though," Brian offered after a thoughtful silence had fallen over them. "You should bring her around. I'm sure the guys would like to see her again."
Jimmy flicked the ash from his cigarette, "What about Natalie?"
Brian shrugged, "You can have female friends, Jim. Peyton was there first."
"So you're saying I shouldn't tell her," Jimmy smirked.
With a point of his cigarette, Brian nodded, "My sentiments exactly."
Jimmy abandoned the group not long after, decidedly too excited to see Peyton and too distracted to be a person. He'd driven straight to her, stopping only to pick up an assortment of dishes from his favourite Thai place in town.
He knocked at the door but no answer came. He tried the handle and was surprised to find it turn with ease. Shrugging to himself, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
He was socked in the face by the sounds of...himself. He recognized that ride anywhere. With a smug grin implanted in his cheeks, he carried the brown paper bags to the kitchen, where Peyton stood high on a ladder.
Her hips moved rhythmically to the beat of his drums; it was like an instant aphrodisiac. He cursed this woman for the effect she had on him--without trying, to boot.
Knowing full well that he would scare her no matter how he approached the situation, he set the bags onto the counter and stepped around to the front of the ladder. Sure enough, she nearly fainted from the startle.
She gestured to the stereo, hurriedly instructing him to turn the music way down. He did as he was told, smiling up at her. Her brown hair was pulled back into a lazy attempt at a bun. It was streaked with paint. Her left hand was painted with blood, which she hardly seemed to notice.
She had an unparalleled threshold for pain.
"You scared this shit out of me," she told him as she descended the rickety steps of the ladder.
"I know," he snickered. "But I've brought food, so you can't be pissed forever."
She thanked him as she dove straight into the containers. They sat around the dining room table, poking at each dish and eating straight from the plastic.
"It's good," she said, mulling over each option with care. "Waking the Fallen."
Jimmy was elated to hear she thought so.
"Your drumming is better than I remember," she smirked. "But I remember you playing some crazy shit...So...I guess that makes sense."
"I'm glad you like our shit," Jimmy smiled.
She leaned out a bit to properly survey Jimmy's neck. It was abnormally red, like he'd spent the day itching and scratching at it.
"Are you taking care of that?" she asked, pointing to it with her fork.
He laughed, "Yes, Mom."
"Uh-huh," she hummed in disbelief, abandoning her chair temporarily.
She skipped upstairs and into the bathroom, pulling out the only unscented cream she owned. With the bottle in her clutches, she returned to the kitchen and wet a piece of paper towel. She dabbed at his neck, earning a swat from him.
"Let me fix it," she insisted sternly.
As she moved her fingers along the black edges, he found himself leaning into her. What was it about her touch?
He'd been with Natalie for nearly three years. She was a nice girl; understanding and supportive. She basically let Jimmy do what he wanted, which didn't always work out well for her. But he'd always respected the confines of their relationship, never pining for another woman's touch. He figured he was content enough with Natalie that he'd never needed to feel inspired by another.
But Peyton did something to him that was entirely foreign. With just a look, he was eternally adjusting his set below. She had him hot and ridiculously bothered just by breathing his damn name. He'd never wanted anybody as badly as he wanted her.
But at what cost?
Was it worth throwing away years of building for a night of pure bliss? Maybe...But he wasn't convinced. He leaned to the contrary.
As she set the bottle of cream onto the table and rejoined the dinner conversation, unaware of the thunder she'd caused beneath his skin, Jimmy forced himself to get it under control.
They'd been genuine friends once upon a time. At the end of the day, despite the longing he obviously held for her, he wanted her friendship. He wanted his friend back.
That meant no sexually confusing those lines.
"So what'd you do today?" she asked with obligatory curiosity, digging back into the food.
He shrugged, "Went to the studio for a while...Was unproductive as fuck. And now I'm here."
"The studio, huh?" she thought aloud, pushing a piece of chicken around. "What's it like? To record an album?"
Jimmy grinned, "It's fuckin' cool."
She nodded, seemingly accepting the lame answer as valid.
"You should come check it out," he suggested like it was his idea all along. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Washing paint out of my hair," she smirked. "It might take all day."
He waved her off, "Get a head start on it tonight and come hang at the studio with me tomorrow. I promise I'll bait you with coffee and you can make fun of my face the entire time if you want."
"Will you make the coyote face?" she asked pointedly.
He nodded seriously, "You know I will."
With a smile, she agreed.
Once they were satisfactorily filled with dinner, they got to work. They worked as a team to pull the wallpaper from the living room walls. Peyton had switched the tunes over to her favourite, insisting that Jimmy just "give it a try". She'd point out her favourite lyrics and sing loudly to all the best parts. Jimmy may not have loved Coldplay, but watching Peyton's one-woman show had him tolerating them with a laugh.
"Okay," she relented, deciding Jimmy had put up with enough.
She switched it over without thinking, stepping back to the wall to resume her work. As the beat of Miseria Cantare filled the empty spaces of the room, Jimmy's face lit up. He watched as Peyton sang along with the incomparable Davey Havok.
When she finally caught Jimmy drooling, she couldn't help but laugh.
"What?" she asked nervously.
He shook his head, stuck in bewilderment, "You're just fucking perfect."
As her cheeks fluttered with roses, Jimmy abandoned his manual labor. Without thinking, he closed the distance between them and stole Peyton up into his arms. She giggled softly as he planted his lips on hers. The feel of the cold metal ring looped around her perfect lip was like heaven.
He slid his hands around to her back, fastening one atop her hip. Her fingers laced themselves into his hair, forgetting about his fresh ink. Jimmy didn't mind the added sting.
As she sighed into him, sliding her body closer into his, he lost all control.
Fuck it, he thought.
In one fluid motion, he gripped at Peyton's hips and pulled her up and onto him. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as he carried her effortlessly up the stairs and into her old bedroom. They fell together into a heated mess, grasping and tearing at one another with urgency. They ripped at each other's clothing, tossing each piece carelessly to the floor without breaking a second of contact. Their breathing fell ragged as Peyton ran her fingers down Jimmy's chest and Jimmy re-positioned them both to allow his hands better opportunity to roam. With a split second of a breath for air, Jimmy took one last look deep into Peyton's emerald eyes, finding exactly what he'd been looking for, before recklessly tearing past the line they had never crossed.
Unable to reign themselves in, they gave into temptation.
Jimmy knew he'd hate himself for it later, but as she rolled her hips against his, he just didn't fucking care.

Notes

And the plot thickens.


xx