21 Jump Street (Tom Hanson)

Words of Wisdom

The harsh sound of someone pounding at my door jolted me awake. It took me only a moment to fully awaken and realize that the jeering sound was coming from my front door. I rolled over to see that the time on the alarm clock read 2:28 A.M.

My heart pounded in my chest as I reached over and grabbed my gun from my night stand. Ever since those break-ins last year, and the many more convicts I have arrested and angered since then, I can never be too careful. I need an alarm system or something.

They knocked again. I was stealthy and walked to my front door. With my heart pounding in my throat and my palms sweating, I peered through the peep hole and saw Tom. A wave of relief washed over me, and I took what was left of my adrenaline to run back to my room and put the gun away. I grabbed my gray bath robe from my bathroom and threw it on over my pajamas and tied it as I walked back to the door. I hoped the redness on my forehead from the pimple I popped right before I went to sleep was gone.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I said as my energy was dwindling. I got to the front door and looked through the peep hole again before I answered the door.

"Morning," he said. He had a toothpick between his teeth.

"Tommy?" I yawned and asked, "what are you doing here? Do you know what time it is? It's tomorrow."

"I—um... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

"No, it's okay," I said and opened the door for him. "Come in."

He walked in slowly and I closed the door behind him. I asked, "can I get you something to drink? Coffee?"

"No, that's okay," he said. His tone made me nervous so I started to fiddle with the necklace that he gave me for Christmas. I had not taken it off since he gave it to me.

"So, you woke me up at 2:30 in the morning just to look at me?" I tried to joke, but after I said it I realized it came off more cynical.

There was something on his mind, and I could tell just based on the way he looked at me. He was grinding the toothpick between his molars, keeping it in his mouth like it was a cigarette. Does he smoke? I've never seen him smoke. Or did he used to and he's trying to quit? Tom said, "I wanted to talk to you."

"At 2:30 in the morning?" I asked, "it couldn't have waited?"

His eyebrows furrowed together and he checked his watch. "Wow... it is that late."

"You know what normal people are doing this time of night? Sleeping," I grumbled and I rubbed my eye.

"I just... have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry, I should go. I don't know why I came."

"No, don't worry about it. Come on in." I opened the door for him. He came in and slumped down to my couch. I closed the door and walked towards my couch.

"Thanks."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" I asked, sitting down beside him. I glanced down at my coffee table and I was a little embarrassed that I hadn't put away my mug from this morning, and it had a stain from my red lipstick on the white porcelain. If Tom noticed, I don't think he would have cared.

I recently found out that Tom has been seeing Jackie Garrett from the District Attorney's office, but I didn't really mind if I didn't think about it. But I was surprised that he came to me tonight, his friend, rather than his girlfriend.

I'm not a big fan of Jackie, and I don't think she's a big fan of me either. I've never given her a reason to dislike me, but whenever we are together she makes these snarky remarks and never leaves Tom's side. It is almost like she gets mad when Tom talks to me or I talk to him. Earlier this month she and Tom hosted a dinner party where she just tried to annihilate me the entire time, and I felt really meek and like I was shrinking in her presence. Thankfully, Tom stood up for me but I don't think I'll be going back any time soon. She also wears these unflattering shoulder padded blazers that make her look like she's on a hanger.

"Oh, no, no," he said, rubbing his hands together. But then he started talking about it. "It's just... I found out that my dads partner is sick."

"Oh, Tom, I'm sorry," I said and put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

"It's okay. He was a father figure to me, because my dad wasn't there to be one. You know?"

I nodded as I rubbed my hand up and down on his back before replacing my hand by setting my head on his shoulder. "I understand."

"I just want to take my mind off of it," he said, running his hand through his hair.

I was not very good at comforting people. But, I was good at knowing Tom and what made him happy. I always felt so safe and secure with him. After a few minutes, I stood up and walked to the kitchen and preheated my oven.

He asked, "what are you doing?"

"Getting your mind off of it. Come here, help me make cookies."

I squatted down to grab a mixing bowl and he came up behind me. My knee was still pretty weak from the shooting, but it's been getting stronger. I had to reach to the counter to help pull myself up, but Tom's strong hands found my waist to assist. I felt each of his individual, long slender fingers against my body. His touch sent shivers down my spine, but blood to rush to my face.

"You okay?" He asked. He gently tucked some of my hair behind my ear so it was out of my face.

My knee cracked and I chuckled and looked back at him over my shoulder to softly say, "yeah, I'm fine. Thank you."

I tried to shake my nervous energy out of my body. My palms got a little clammy and I had to remind myself that Tom has a girlfriend. I should not be having any sort of romantic feelings towards him, but there was no one more important to me. We are friends, and that's it.

I started grabbing the whisk and the measuring cups we were going to need for our cookies and I noticed that he was just standing beside me so I jokingly said to him, "thanks for pretending to help."

"I'm sorry," he said with a smile. He tossed the toothpick into the garbage. "What do you need?"

"Um..." I had to fish the recipe out of my head. "Butter, sugar, eggs, and flour."

"Is it bad that I know where all those are in your kitchen?"

"Means we eat our feelings more than we should," I laughed and started gathering the other ingredients for salted chocolate chip cookies.

We turned on the radio as we baked together, managing to bake a dozen cookies. As they were cooling on top of my stove, Tom tried to find something for us to watch on the television. I grabbed a plate and placed some of the cooled cookies on it, along with two glasses on milk. I walked to the couch and handed Tom his glass, and I sat down. I leaned against the arm of the couch and extended my feet onto his lap and threw a blanket over us.

He chuckled and grabbed a cookie from the plate that rested on my legs. He mumbled with a mouthful, "might be our best batch yet."

"It's the crack," I joked as I took a bite of mine.

Tom looked at his cookie and asked, "how many licks does it take to disintegrate a cookie?"

I smiled and said, "I don't think you have the patience to find out."

We spent the whole night eating cookies and watching the television until the sun came up. We never again talked about what was bothering Tom, but this was more therapeutic for him than talking it out. He must have been taking it hard if he showed up at my doorstep at 2:30 in the morning, but I'd always be willing to wake up that early for Tom. If he needs me, I'll be there.

A lil short but cute one for you! The next chapter is based off a scene from the film 22 Jump Street, and they meet a special someone at the end!
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