Eternally North (10 page)

Tink and I breezed
around the path surrounding Elbow River hand in hand, pulling each
other forward and swapping sides. My diva of a partner got a little
bored of the mundane ‘flat’ routine and began to experiment with
some
Dancing on Ice
moves he had recently seen on ITV One. He
began humming the tune to Torville and Dean’s gold medal-winning
Bolero and started spinning me around whilst picking up a dangerously
high velocity.

I was giggling at his
antics and never even thought to look at the floor as we raced down
the hill or considered what could be coming our way around the sharp
bend. As I expertly pushed out of a spin, my foot slipped, and kept
slipping. Tink grabbed me around the waist and we kind of shuffled
awkwardly against one another, shrieking and screaming in a soprano
pitch… and that was just the fairy!

Unsurprisingly, with
our pink plastic wheels we couldn’t gain any grip, any traction; we
were going down and down and
boom!
We were taken out by an
unseen force and we hit the ground hard, my wrecking ball of
destruction now situated heavily on top of me, pinning me to the
floor and crushing my chest. I couldn’t really take much else in as
a dull throbbing in my head was making me lose focus.

“What the fuck?”
exploded the deep voice of my human tackling-machine. I then heard a
similar ruckus to my left.

“Oh my God. I’m so
sorry! Wait, Tink? Is that you?” exclaimed a gentle voice next to
me.

“Well, well, well.
Nice to see you again, mister, but if you were that keen to get on
top of me you should have at least asked me out to dinner first, you
cheeky scoundrel,” Tink replied.

The other voice laughed
shyly. "If you’re being serious, then that, I can do."

"Oh, really? Then
it's definitely a date, mister," Tink confirmed, with excitement
in his voice.

Too disorientated to
make sense of what the hell was happening, I decided to just give in
to the sleep that was looming, and it all began to go temptingly
dark. I could hear bits of talking around me, most prominently Tink
giggling and using his ‘fuck me’ voice.

OMG. I’ve died and
gone to Fruit-Fly hell!

A string of seriously
pissed-off grunts and curses brought me back to my own situation with
a bang, as the human dumbbell lifted itself off my oxygen-deprived
body.

“Shit. In future
watch where you're go– Tash? Tash, is that you?
Shit!
”
said my personal bulldozer, as I felt rough fingers fumble across my
face.

“Tink, isn’t it?”
the bulldozer asked someone beside me.

“Yeah,” Tink
answered excitedly.

“It's Tash, I think
she’s hurt.”

I felt body heat appear
near my left ear, and smelled the familiar scent of ‘Fantasy’
perfume by Britney Spears. Tink.

“Wilbur? Wil, babe,
are you okay? Talk to me!”

I could hear Tink begin
to flap. Oh no, this was no time for a fairy meltdown.

“Calm down, sweetie,
she’ll be fine. Check her head, buddy,” I heard the gentle voice
from before instruct.

I felt the surprisingly
cautious hands again from the bulldozer, this time on my head, and
light breath falling on my face. I could smell him.
Mmm
…
delicious.

I began to come around,
eyesight re-focusing, shapes becoming sharper, sounds becoming
clearer until–“
Oww!
”

Someone had just pushed
something painful at the back of my head. My eyes began to water
profusely.

“Tash? Can you see
me? Can you hear me? Does it hurt? Fuck, there’s a huge bump… aww
man, it’s bleeding,” the unbelievable-smelling person said. I
tried to sit up to see who it was. I felt a hand grasp mine and a
second hand push my chest back to stop any movement.

“Wil, it’s Tink.
Talk to me, please.”

“Tin–”,
Pathetic
cough
, “Tink? Wha-what’s going on?” I struggled to speak.

“We had a little
accident. We crashed into some… joggers,” he said, sounding
sheepish.

“My head. It hurts.”
I whined.

“Hold still, Tash,”
the deep voice said. “Just wait until you come around a bit more.”

“Who- who are you?”
I could only hear his gruff voice. He was too close to make out a
face.

I heard a small laugh
and felt warm breath against my cheek. “You’ll find out in a few
minutes, just stay awake, okay?” he urged.

“Mmm,” I felt
something being put under my head, something warm and soft like a
pillow. It smelt like my bulldozer. Wait,
my
bulldozer? It was
woodsy, musky, and just… lovely, it reminded me of home somehow.

Fingers kept stroking
my hand – Tink. I could feel it was him, but another finger was
running repeatedly down my cheek and brushing away my hair, it was
lulling me to relax.

“What were you doing
on skates in this weather?” the voice asked harshly.

I went to answer but
Tink jumped in, “I bought them for a surprise. We were only trying
them out." I realised the question had been directed at him in
the first place so I settled back into the pillow.

“Fucking hell, look
at what’s happened! What were you doing when we crashed into you?
Do either of you have any common sense? Any at all? Jesus-”

“We were dancing!
Sor-ry, Dad.
Is that a crime? Anyway for your information, it
was a simple two-step swing that we had already completed several
times before!”

He huffed, and, knowing
Tink, he would have dramatically looked away and crossed his arms.

I chuckled to myself at
Tink defending the roller skate dancing. What was he like? Feeling a
little better, I broke the strained silence, eyes still closed. “At
least we hadn’t progressed to the death-defying ‘head banger’,”
I muttered dryly.

Hands stilled and
voices came at me simultaneously.

“
Tash?
”

“
Wil!
”

I opened my eyes one
lid at a time, my vision coming back to me quicker now. But I was
still unconscious and dreaming. I
had
to be as I saw... I saw,
well, a
vision
.

“Tud–, Tudor? Tudor
North?” Was it really him? Tudor North? Moody, Tudor
bloody
North!

Giving a slow,
disbelieving head-shake and that devastating lopsided smirk, he
replied. “We need to stop meeting like this, Tash. How are you
feeling?”

“Ugh! Like crap. My
head is hurting… a lot,” I moaned.

My stomach started to
flutter at his intense green gaze.

“Yeah, you really
whacked it when we fell.”

“We?” I asked in
confusion.

“Yes,
we
. When
you took me out… with your dancing… on skates… in winter… on
black ice. Yep," he pretended to think deeply. "I think
that about sums the situation up," he said, a bit snippily.

“
Great
, more
Tudor attitude. Just what I need!”
Shit, did I say that out
loud?

There was a sharp
intake of breath above me, and then muffled giggling sounds coming
from the left.

When I looked up, I saw
Tudor scowling at someone, or several people, I couldn’t be sure.

Had I pulled in an
audience? I couldn’t move my head to see. Tudor held it in a
vice-like grip whilst straddling me, pinning down my body.

Yep folks, I often
repeat that visual in my head too, you know, on cold and lonely
nights.

He looked back into my
eyes. His were sparkling, alight with humour. “Well it seems you’re
feeling a little better.” Not a question, a statement.

“Yeah I think a
little. Please can you help me up?”

He seemed worried; he
had a line between his eyebrows that showed his concern.

Bloody hell, why was
that sexy too?

“Hold on to me and
I’ll sit you up. Slowly, eh?” he instructed.

I nodded lightly,
grabbed his massive upper arms, and held on tight to the ripped
pythons as he pulled me into a sitting position.

Ugh, nausea.

“You feel sick?” he
grunted.

“Just a smidgen,” I
whispered, trying to keep composure and not vomit all over him,
whilst cringing about the fact that I must resemble the putrid green
Wicked Witch of the West.

“I’ll sit behind
you to prop you up until we can move you without you feeling queasy,”
he announced, signalling to Tink and… yep, I thought so, Tate to
keep me upright whilst he straightened only to lower himself behind
me. At least the four of us were the only witnesses to this debacle.

He shuffled close to my
back and put his legs on either side. He took my shoulders and gently
brought me back flush to his chest. It was all warm and cosy, and it
was taking all my effort not to cop a quick squeeze of the amazingly
thick thighs keeping me wedged in position.

I wonder if they are
tattooed too?

Tink was looking at me
with concern, and I could see him glare at Tudor from time-to-time.
What is he thinking?
He looked suspicious for a moment until
he caught my gaze watching his and quickly changed his demeanour.

“You feeling better,
my battered sausage?” Tink asked, cupping my cheek and returning to
his chirpy, happy-go-lucky self.

I smiled and confirmed
a yes with my eyes.

“Tash? You need to
get this bump on your head checked out,” stated Tudor, running his
hands one by one over the top of my head. It felt heavenly.

I could feel his voice
vibrating through me. Being so closely pushed together also
enlightened me to the fact that Mr. North was huge…
everywhere
(wink wink!). That thought was definitely distracting me from the
pain.

Tink looked over my
head, I presumed at Tudor, and said, “I’ll be back soon, pork
chops, okay?” and turned to Tate, smiling. “Tate, you want to
come with?”

Tate looked thrilled,
and they took off. It was silent for a while, and I relaxed further
into the best bed ever: Tudor’s chest.

“You’re an
interesting character aren’t you, Ms. Munro? In the space of
twenty-four hours I have seen you – what did you call it? – oh
yeah, ‘slut drop’, wipe me and my assistant out while trying to
perfect another stellar dance routine, and suffer what is probably a
concussion through the most idiotic pastime I’ve ever come across.”

I could feel a single
move of his chest, a small laugh.

“Yeah well, imagine
if you were around me twenty-four-seven, I’d be non-stop
entertainment for you,” I said, it coming out a bit more snarky
than I had intended it to.

Why did I always feel
like a first-class fuck-up around this guy?
Mmm, probably because
you are, Tash!

“Yeah, imagine that…”
he sighed, and gripped me tighter and shifted closer.

I was watching the
river flow gently south when he interrupted my thoughts, his mouth at
my ear. “We are going to have to get you to the hospital, Tash.
Head injuries are no joke. Tink has gone to get the car.”

“Mmm, okay. Are you
coming too?” I blurted out sleepily before I even realised what I
had said.

Oh my God, Tash,
eager much? You don’t even like him! Well not a huge amount, not
really...

His body stiffened
around me.

No, not more
rejection. I seem to repel men these days.

I tried to think of
something to say. I had made him uncomfortable, and his response had
made me so.

As if, Tash! What
were you thinking? This is Tudor North: living sex god. He is just
being kind right now. He doesn’t fancy you, he doesn’t even know
you. Why the hell would he take his kid sister’s clown of a teacher
to hospital? You just keep dropping into his probably perfect life
like a freakin' tornado! Fix it. Now!

“I-I mean, of course
you’re not. Sorry, I just blurted that out, you know, head injury
making me crazy and all. I'll go home and just pray that you forget
the twin disaster of last night and this morning." I excused,
trying to sound breezy.

“I'd never forget
about you, Tash. You make a lasting impression.” His arms crossed
over mine, securing me tightly, his hands grazing over my clenched
fists as though he was debating whether to hold them.

“I… I want to take
you but, it’s, it’s probably just better if Tink and Tate go.
Unless? No, we would have to go in a side entrance and I…"

I held up my hand to
stop him and his stammering little chat with himself. My self-esteem
was tumbling and I couldn’t be humiliated anymore.

“Tudor, I’m sorry.
I don’t know why I said anything. Tink and I will be fine, we
always are. I’m sorry for ruining your jog and no doubt one of your
limited days off,” I said sincerely.

Where is Tink?

He sighed loudly and
wrapped himself around me, impossibly close. “Tash, that’s not
it. You could never ruin anything. You're... It’s just–"

“
Wil
! I’ve
got the car, sausage. Let’s get you checked out at the Emergency
Room.”

Saved by the bell!

Tink and Tate were
walking down the hill, Tink with car keys in hand. He dropped behind
a smiley Tate and blatantly checked out his arse. Tate did look cute,
mind, in his jogging pants and black hoodie, with perfectly
combed-over hair and striking ice-blue eyes. Tink winked at me and
gave me a ‘ten-out-of-ten’ hand gesture.

Uh-Oh
, Tate had
an admirer.

I smiled back at Tink
and tried to move. I heard Tudor sigh again, and I cringed at the
awkwardness of this situation. I bet he wished he hadn’t bothered
getting out of bed that morning, now he’d faced one of Tash and
Tink’s Calamity Take Outs.

“Tink, help me up
please,” I commanded, gesturing to him with my hand.

“It’s fine, Tash,
I’ve got you. You’re safe with me,” assured Tudor as he gently
began to lift me up, his whopping muscles flexing under his clothes.