I think we can all agree that young Tommy Miller was a whore. Beautiful, cocky, too smug for his own good.
Tommy was never an asshole. Those Texan manners ran deep. He treated every woman with respect, was upfront and honest. Doesn’t mean he didn’t leave a trail of broken hearts, but he never meant any harm.
You don’t ever judge him for just getting laid..until you do. Until Tommy turns that look your way one night over a pool game, beers and a basket of messy wings.
Everything inside you knows how easy it would be to slip off that old stool and follow him to his truck, fall into his bed, be like all those other women. It’d be fun. It’d be good, but it wouldn’t end there.
You know it. It’s written in the depth of those brown eyes, in that lazy crooked grin of his and that smooth southern drawl. Tommy Miller is a drug. You know you’ll get addicted.
So you say no, and Tommy takes it in stride. He’s never offended, never pushes. No means no. It pisses you off nonetheless because that tension never fades again. Ever. It thrums in the air, hot and thick, between the two of you.
It births something heavy and hard within your friendship. That playful banter and easy shit talking holds a little too much heat now. Tommy may or may not do more things in hopes to make you jealous. It just pisses you off more.
You seeth quietly, eyes peering over the rim of your beer as you watch Tommy do what he does weekend after weekend. He tries not to feed off of or notice the burning feeling of you staring at him. He tries not to think about you when he’s got a nice girl smiling up at him, even if he’d much rather turn around to you scowling at him.
Ultimately, it is how you eventually fall into bed together. Angry and pent up, teeth and nails and hair pulled. It’s the hottest fuck you both have ever had, and that’s how you become hate fuck buddies with Tommy Miller for weeks.
It’s more than that though. You both know it, feel it, but you play this game a little longer. Joel knows it, rolls his eyes at it. Tommy doesn’t even think of dialing old contacts, and every weekend ends with you and him somewhere naked and plastered together, sweaty and giggling.
Those weekends quickly turn into week day date nights and that anger bleeds away into simple pure obsession, sticky sweet and intoxicating. Tommy Miller never really gave up being a whore. He just became your whore. 🫶🏼
snowghoul
theartofmadeline
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