The Stars In Your Eyes ✩ Tim Shepard

Old Lessons

You know the feeling of doing something you're not supposed to do. Yeah... well that's how I feel right now, sitting on the end of Tim's bed in nothing but my undergarments. I watch him, mesmerized by the swirls of black greasy hair that falls over his forehead and the way his shoulders rise with each breath.

Tim Shepard is more handsome than people give him credit for. Those smoldering eyes and the scars that make him look tough. He's beautiful even if people don't think he is.

I sigh, resisting the urge to crawl back into his arms and close my eyes. What I would give to go back to sleep with him. But I can't.

Pulling the oversized shirt over my head, I take a final look at Tim in his peaceful state before standing and finding a crumpled piece of loose leaf on the dresser. Borrowing a Sharpie, I scribble down a message for whenever he wakes up:

had to go to work
get off at 12 :)

I fold the paper, setting it on the nightstand beside his bed. I glance down at him before I leave, pushing his hair up slightly to see the scar across his face. He takes my breath away, and I stoop down, kissing his forehead before I flee the room.

Last night wasn't a mistake, and neither was that night at Buck's bar, but then I was scared. Now, I'm not.

The stairs creak under my feet even as I tip-toe, trying not to wake the other Shepards in the house. I hold my Converse in my hand to make my steps quieter, however, the bottom step is particularly loud and squeaks under my body weight. I chew my lip as a muffled groan comes from the living room several feet away.

On the couch, a mane of ruffled dark hair pops up and a groaning Angela Shepard appears, rubbing her face.

Oh shi—

The second she lays eyes on me, her gaze narrows. "Fuck them and leave..." She shakes her head, placing a mocking note in her voice, "right, little soc."

I fight the urge to scoff. "You just think you know everything," I reply, before dipping out the door and onto the front porch without a second thought. I'll let Angela do with that information as she pleases, but for now, I don't care. I know the truth and at least that's enough.

Despite the darkness of the Shepard house with its drawn curtains, outside is far brighter. I pull on my shoes on the porch, the shirt I stole from Tim's dresser drawer thankfully falling down my thighs.

I hate to up and leave him again, but this time he knows where I'm going. Whether he comes after my shift as I somewhat intended is up to him.

I cross the street, eventually getting to my house after a long walk down the tracks. As expected, Mom's at work and so is Paul, and no sound or music comes from Megan's room, meaning she's out somewhere.

After showering and freshening up my uniform I get dressed and am on my way to work. But even as I walk there, I can't wait for the moment my shift will come to an end.

The hours drag by at an agonizing pace, every second lasts minutes and each minute feels like an eternity. Mira doesn't seem suspicious at all, but asks several times why I'm so anxious and watching the clock to which I give half-assed answers.

This shift feels like the first time in forever I haven't seen one of the gang drop by. I got so used to their appearance and now they're just gone.