A/N: WOO. Okay, I'm about to go to the beach until Wednesday, and I don't have internet there, so no new chapters until Thursday.  So sorry! And I really...really...really...hope you enjoy this chapter-- please, please, please let me know what you think!  I'm a little nervous about it. Also, random question--- will you leave a comment here and tell me where you are from?! I find it fascinating to find out that people are reading from all over the place.  You guys are awesome! Have a great weekend!!

I look terrible today and I know this.  I didn’t have time for a shower in the morning, which would have been okay considering I just took one before I went to bed the night before, but I slept with wet hair, which turned into something of a national disaster for my head.  I did what I could to look presentable, but I was running on about three hours of sleep. Having ridiculous, lustful thoughts for your best friend can often keep you up, tossing and turning all night.  So, I just threw my hair up into a really strange looking top knot.  I pulled on the cleanest clothes I have at the moment, which includes a pair of raggedy, scuffed up skinny jeans that I’ve rolled at the bottom, a lace bralette, and my most well worn, loose gray tshirt with the wide neckline. I can’t be worried with fashion, but comfort I can do.  I have to finish and package all the goodies for the bake sale tonight. 

I schlepped into the bakery at my normal time, and immediately turn on the coffee.  I’m half human at this point.  I work through two cups, and I start to feel a bit more lively.  Tom shows up around 8, and he doesn’t even say anything to me at first.  He’s wearing his normal running gear, and he’s a bit sweaty.  More than a bit, his gray shirt is soaked through the back a bit, and his hair is damp at the hairline, and pushed back.  It’s surprisingly sexy, and I can’t really handle it this early in the morning, so I sort of ignore him as well.

He grabs coffee to go, we exchange some morning pleasantries and then he leaves, which is surprising. He says he’ll be back later in the afternoon, and he’ll help me finish up the festival treats.  Okay…

The afternoon passes by quickly, which is surprising.  Mandy comes in and is her normal cheerful self.  She won’t stop talking about the festival, and how great it is that we’ve been invited to donate.  I nod and agree, because I know it is a pretty big deal here in Havre de Grace.  She asks me no less than three times if I’m okay, and every time I tell her I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.  I’m just insane.  And brain dead. And I can’t stop thinking about that annoying British guy that’s been following me around the past five years.

 Mandy leaves at two, and says she’ll see me at the high school at six. I finish packaging everything and then I’m doing a bit of clean up when Tom finally shows up.  It’s half past four, and I need to get the pastries to the highschool by five.

“Hi.” I say, a bit annoyed that he’s shown up so late.  He looks nice though, as always.  He’s wearing a pair of gray trousers and a dark blue linen shirt.  It’s rolled at the sleeves. He’s casual, and looks relaxed and handsome. 

“Hi.  Sorry I’m behind.  Should we get things going?” He asks, not offering much of an explanation for his lateness.  I’d been expecting him at two or three.  I nod and explain to him how the boxes of sticky buns need to go into the car trunk, and how the bars should go in the back seat. I tell him I need to change and get ready, so he should start packing things up. He’s watching me and nodding, but I sort of feel like there’s no one at home.  I blink at him a few times.

“Woo hoo. Tom? Are you alright?” I wave my hand in front of his face, and he snaps out of his daze a bit.  He puts his hands on his narrow hips and shakes his head.

“I’m fine.  I’ve hardly eaten anything today.” He sticks a long leg out and looks at me, perplexed.

“You can eat at the festival.” I say, raising an eyebrow.  “Why are you being weird?” I frown.

“I don’t know. I’m not being weird.” He shrugs and just stares at me.  I stare back and then cross my arms.  We could do this all day, but I know I will win.  He always breaks first.

“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want, grumpy pants.” I say, leaning my hip against the table.  He huffs softly, and I can tell he’s definitely annoyed but I don’t know why. 

“I want to come with you, Charles.” He presses his hand against the table, and looks up at me.  His blue eyes are upset, and filled with turmoil.  I soften slightly and walk over to a package of sticky buns waiting to go out to the car. I pull one out.  It’s wrapped in plastic, and sitting in it’s own little cardboard tray.  I keep eye contact with him as I pull the wrapper off and then I reach forward, grab his arm and place it in his hand. 

“Eat this and tell me what’s wrong.” I demand.  I grab a stool and I push it so it knocks him in the back of the legs.  He sits heavily and sighs. He holds the pastry in his hand for a minute, as if there’s really a chance he won’t eat it.  Then he pulls off a piece and pops it in his mouth.

He groans softly and closes his eyes, chewing happily.

“You’re a goddess.” He sighs.  I laugh and cross my arms under my breasts, watching him. 

“Talk now. We have to leave in like…five minutes.” I look at the clock hanging on the wall.  He takes another bite, chews and swallows and then looks at me as if I’ve given him a drink of water after a long stint in the desert. 

“Keegan called me today.  Has she been calling you?” He sighs and slumps against the table, his elbow on the metal surface, his chin in his hand.  I purse my lips and then shake my head.  I reach into my pocket, fishing around for my phone.

“No, she’s hasn’t—“ I say as I turn on my screen.  Ah, four texts.  “Oh, she has. Four texts.” I say softly as Tom groans.

“All from her? She’s been calling my mobile all day, and she emailed me twice.” He eats another bite of sticky bun and scrubs a hand through his hair, making it stick up slightly on top.  I read quickly through the texts she sent.

Charlie, I know everyone hates me right now, but please, tell Tom I’m sorry.

You’ve always been so nice to me.  Please, tell him that Teddy and I are done.

Tom is with you, right? He’s in Maryland? Charlie?!

Charlie? What is going on? Is something going on between you and Tom? Please talk to me.

 I turn off my screen and slip my phone back into my pocket.

“I’m sorry.” Tom sits up.  He leans forward, his brow furrowed.

“It’s alright.  She says she’s sorry and she’s done with that dude, and she wants to know if something is going on between you and I.” I say this quickly, as if ticking off items on a list.  Tom clenches his jaw and shakes his head slowly.

“She’s lost it. She’s batty.” He brings his hand to his jaw, thinking.  I wait because I’m not sure what else to say.  “We’d fight sometimes because she was sure something was going on between us.  She couldn’t believe that we were just friends.  She was sure we’d slept together, had some sort of past or were currently sleeping together behind her back.” He scoffs as if this is the most insane thing he’s ever heard.  I choose to not take it as an insult and I simply nod.  He keeps going.

“She’d always be on me, saying that I had these secret, pent up feelings for you.” He adds softly, looking at me from the side of his eyes.  “It’s as if two people can’t just be friends.  As if two adults can’t just…be…friends.” He ends lamely, exasperated.  This is all news to me, which is surprising.  He’s never told me this, and I’m not sure what to think.  Apparently, I don’t know everything about Tom, and definitely not everything about his relationship with Keegan.

“Yes, it’s…that’s silly.” I say softly.  He nods absentmindedly, sort of staring off into space.  “Have you talked to her?” I ask.  He’s still just staring at me, and I can’t read his expression.  The kitchen is quiet, and I shift my weight from one foot to the other.  Finally, Tom nods and lifts another piece of pastry to his mouth, but then stops short.

“I have, but it was briefly, and to tell her the same thing I’ve been telling her for the past few weeks.”

“You’re remarkably…not emotional about this.” I say, squinting slightly.  He really has been.  Aside from a few mopey moments when he first showed up, he’s mostly been rather normal and contained.  Tom looks at me and shrugs.

“Trust means a lot to me, Charlie.  I don’t trust her anymore.  I think I’ve been distancing myself from her for some time.” He pops the sticky bun in his mouth and chews.  I can’t quite focus on anything but his mouth. The way his lips move.  How his lower lip dips a bit to the side sometimes when he speaks.  The way his upper lip is ever so slightly thinner than his bottom lip.  He smiles at me, but without showing any teeth.  It’s his shy smile, the one he does when he’s being coy.  The one I’ve seen him do mostly to other women, and occasionally to me.  Only occasionally.

I know I shouldn’t but a feel a wave of jealousy for Keegan wash over me.  I can’t stop thinking of how it must feel to have him.  To really have him.  I know what it feels like to have him focus on me, to have him care about me, but I can’t help it.  I want more.  I feel terrible and selfish, and horribly confused, but my mind keeps drifting to what it would feel like gently take his bottom lip between my own, to have him hold me, to have him as my own entirely.  We’ve shared so many intimate moments before, but there is this terribly dark and aching part of me that wants to know him in the most intimate way possible.  I hate myself for it.  I know it could possibly ruin everything between us, and yet I somehow don’t care. 

People talk all the time about falling for a friend.  They say they are scared to ruin a friendship.  They say that can’t imagine taking it to the next level, and what that would do to their relationship.  Maybe there is something wrong with me. I can’t do anything lately but think about taking it to the next level.  I am frightened by the intensity in which these feelings have come on.  Fast, and hard like an unyielding wave. I wasn’t ready, and I’m very afraid that I’m about to completely wipe out.

“I’m sorry if she’s been texting you.  Feel free to tell her off.” He lifts his hands.  “I just am a bit annoyed that she’s still at it.” He shakes his head. “You’ve got to try this, Charlie.  It’s so good.” Tom says softly, holding up a piece of sticky bun between his long fingers.  He eats the piece he has, closing his eyes slowly as he does, licking his lips and then his fingers free from sugar.  I watch him, barely able to move.

“No, I can’t.” I shake my head, and cross my arms over my messy tshirt.  I still need to change so I can look presentable at the festival.  I brought a pretty sun dress with me, that I’m sure my mother won’t murder me slowly for wearing in front of the whole town.

“Why? It’s heaven.” He says, his blue eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles. 

“If I tried everything I made, my mother would disown me because of my hips.” I laugh, and pat my hips, which I actually quite enjoy.  They flair out from my waist, and though they may be slightly wider than convention, they’re quite handy for carrying large bowls, and hoisting bags of flour.   Also, I look damn good in a nip waisted dress.

“Please, you’re perfect.  Like these cinnamon buns.  Come here and try it.  Now.” He says in a stern voice, holding up a small piece in his hand.  He reaches for me with his other hand, yanking me toward him.  I grudgingly step forward and without thinking, I open my mouth, taking the pastry from his fingers. My lips rush the tips of his fingers.  Tom’s eyes are decidedly glued to my mouth, watching me eat.  I can barely breathe.  The sweet, buttery rush of the sticky bun combined with the look on Tom’s face as he watches me, makes it an entirely sinful experience.  His eyes lower slightly and then he lifts his fingers to his mouth, sucking off the sugary cinnamon glaze.

“What do you think?” He asks quietly.  I nod my head, a bit too vigorously.

“It’s good.” I say.  He lifts his chin up a bit, looking down at me over his nicely formed nose.  His eyelids are lowered slightly, and I can just make out the gray blue of his eyes.  I want to step back, but I’m finding it hard to move.

“What if she wasn’t totally out of line though, Charlie?” He asks, his voice low.  I frown.

“About what?”

“About you and me?” His voice is steady, controlled.  I feel like a deer in headlights.

“I…” I stutter.  Tom shifts and I’m so completely in tune and aware of how close he is, and how he is looking at me.  It’s as if he’s just awoken from a deep, isolating sleep, and I’m the first person he’s seen in years.

“Charlie.” He says my name softly, lifting it at the end.  I swallow hard.  I am desperately trying to read between the lines.  Desperately trying to make sense.

“Did he kiss you the other night?” Tom says out of nowhere, still looking at me under heavy lidded eyes. I blink, looking away for a moment.  Why is he asking me this?

“What?” I say, unsure.  Tom’s sitting in front of me on the high stool.  His knees are splayed open, wide, and I’m standing between them.  A moment ago, I had my hands resting lightly against his knees, but I move my hands now, tucking them at my sides.  His knees and thighs bump my sides.

“Did you kiss Paul?” He repeats himself.  His voice is low, and it hits me deep in my belly.  I stumble over my words for a moment.

“Yeah…yes. He kissed me.” I say. I can’t keep anything from Tom.  I just can’t do it.

“Was he a good kisser?” Tom asks.  I don’t know why he’s asking me this, but I don’t think about it.

“He was okay.” I shrug.  I know what I am going to say next, and I feel powerless to stop myself.  I’m worried about our friendship, of course I am.  But I’m also worried that if I don’t tell Tom the truth, it will eat me alive.

“Not good enough to give it another go.” He says, and then he closes his legs slightly, his knees and thighs press into my hips.  I rest my hands on the tops of his thighs, and I feel the muscles in his legs, the warmth of his skin through his pants.  Shit.

“When he kissed me…” I pause for a half a second, and then I can’t stop.  “When he kissed me, I wished it were you.” I breathe the last words into a sentence, and then it hangs between us, like fog.  I hold my breath, and I am immediately sorry.  It’s as if my statement is an actual place, and if I keep talking, my words will push me farther and farther away from it.  It was just this crazy, insane, half baked thing that popped into my head.

“It just happened. He kissed me and I couldn’t get you out of my head and…” I ramble, and I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.

Tom doesn’t move, he’s just looking at me.  I’m still pressed between his legs, and he’s looking down at me from the slope of his perfectly shaped nose.  I can see the light, honey brown eye lashes around his eyes.  The similar colored stubble that dusts that lovely, strong jaw.  Forks and spoons, I can barely function.

He hasn’t said anything, and I can literally feel my stomach dropping.  That terrible, embarrassing feeling you get when you know you’ve just said absolutely the wrong thing.  I move to take a step back, out of the cage of his long legs, but he leans forward.  He takes hold of my wrists, his large hands wrapping gently around my slender arms.  He runs his hands up my arms, from wrist to elbow, and then back down again.  I shiver slightly, a response that I have absolutely no power to control.  Then, he leans forward, brings his hands up to my face, touches me ever so gently.  His face is so close to mine, I feel as if we’re magnets, powerless to the pull.  He licks his lips, presses them together, and then he leans in and kisses me.

Tom tastes like cinnamon and sugar.  He’s sweeter than sweet.  He’s touching the sides of my face, and hair so gently at first, I can barely feel them, but I know they are there.  He affects the air around him, and it’s as if I can feel the way he changes the energy around both of us.  He sends ripples through the air, and they crash into me.  We barely move, I am barely breathing, and then without thinking, I reach up and grab handfuls of his shirt and pull him toward me.  I step forward as he scoots to the edge of the stool, and I am pressed against him, his thighs enveloping me. He takes this as all the invitation he needs and suddenly he’s standing up and his strong, lean body is rolling up against mine and he’s gathering me in his arms.  Our kiss goes from sugar sweet to something deep, intense and carnal. 

I have been waiting for this moment for so long, for longer than I can even fathom, and now that it is happening, it is as if I am starving.  It’s as if I’ve been denied the one thing that will truly make me feel full and satisfied, and though it’s been only steps away from me for years, I’m finally able to walk forward, and take it freely.  I grab onto the front of his shirt, balling it into my hands, holding him against me.  I move them around to his sides, feeling his muscles react and tense as he pushes his hands through my hair and the down to my lower back.

His mouth fits against mine like we were made from the same mould.  I could kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until the sand has run out of the hourglass.  He breathes life into our kiss, and I feel as if he has devoured me.  It is not like the kiss from the night he told me he loves me.  It is not like that kiss at all.  This kiss is hungry and desperate, and yet there’s that lingering sweetness there.  I’m not frightened by the intensity, nor am I intimidated by it.  I feel as if I want to feed off of it, I feel as if it’s giving me strength. 

He holds me in his large hands, strong and capable.  He has his hands wrapped up in my hair, tugging gently as he presses against me. I wrap my arms around his neck, standing up on my tip toes.  I push my hands through his hair.  We breathe as one and Tom groans which sends this shiver up my back, making me physically shake.  I can feel the stubble on his face, brushing in a wonderful, scratchy, tortuous way against my lips and chin and face.  I moan back, this horribly needy, aching sound, which makes him turn slightly and press me up against the metal work table. 

I can barely comprehend what has just happened, when we both seem to pull back slightly.  Tom rests his forehead against mine, and I slide my hands up his chest and shoulders and then to his face. I cup his face in my hands, running my thumbs over his cheekbones. He is so precious to me, and I am terrified of that. 

He’s breathing heavily, and so am I, and we just stand there for a moment, locked in an embrace, neither of us able to speak. I lean up and kiss him again.  I don’t want to think of what happens after this.  I just want to live here, in this kiss, for a bit longer.  He responds, kissing me back, his tongue slipping inside my mouth, our lips pressed flush against each other.  He steps forward, pushing me harder into the metal table, his hands running down my sides, and one hand dips down to the back of my thigh.  He sort of bends at the knees and for a second, I think he’s going to pick me up and put me on the table.  He pauses though, and we break our kiss, panting.

“Jesus Christ, Charlie.” He gasps softly, his voice rough and low.  God, I am lost.  Send out the search party.  I would let this man do whatever he would like to me, and then I would beg for more.  I put my hands against his stomach, trying to steady myself.

“I…” I can’t form a sentence.

“What the bloody hell was that?” He whispers into my ear and then he kisses the side of my neck.  I nearly feel my knees buckle on me, the traitors. 

“Holy Christmas cookies.” I swallow, my voice high and unfamiliar.  He laughs into my neck, which makes my knees do the wobbly thing again.

“It’s not Christmas, sweet.” He whispers.  I pull back slightly, and I can barely look him in the eyes.

“It feels like it.” I say, my eyes wide.  He grins and I reach up, touching his lips.  They’re flushed, and a bit more pink than normal.  And I wonder what I look like.  I’m still breathing heavily, and Tom is pressed against my hips.  If I didn’t have some sort of sense, I would throw all dignity and self preservation to the wind and beg him to take me right then and there.  What have I turned in to?! One lusty kiss and I’m gone.

“We’re going to be late.” He says softly.  I nod, but I don’t want to move away.  If I move away, then this is real, and I will have to deal with whatever the hell just happened. 

“Is this going to mess up everything?” I say, taking the tiniest step away from him.  He looks at me, with those serious eyes, and that intense mouth.  His jaw is set.

“I hope so.” He looks down at my mouth and I feel myself sway slightly.

“I can’t lose you.” I say with half a breath.  I need to say it.  He needs to know it.  It’s quite a feeling, speaking your darkest fear out loud. 

“You won’t. I swear to you.”

We stand silently for a few moments, processing what has happened.  His hand is on mine, and his thumb is gently rubbing over mine. I close my eyes for a second, and then pull myself together.  If this is real life, I’m not sure I remember signing up for this version of it.  But I’m sort of glad that I did.

“Okay.” I slide to the side, knowing I need to move or we will stay there indefinitely.  “I…I still need to change and we need to get all the desserts into the car.” I change the subject because that is what I do best.  Tom nods. I hope he still has a functioning brain, because I do not.  I nod, and then turn slightly.  My heart is still racing, I can still feel the way he had his hand at the back of my neck, firm but tender. 

 “Okay.” He sighs.  I move then, on auto pilot, to go do whatever it is that I need to do.  I’m half a foot away when he grabs me by the waist and pulls me back to him.  I am crushed against the wall of his chest.  He’s so warm, and strong and he smells like cinnamon and something else. Something so familiar and yet completely foreign to me.  Something I’ve only dreamt about.

I turn my face up toward his and he kisses me.  I grasp the front of him again, my fingers digging gently into his chest.  He has his long arms wrapped around me, and my legs are tucked tight against his.  His tongue touches mine, teasing, tempting. 

“Go get changed.” He says after a moment, releasing me.  I nod, and stumble away, barely able to use my legs anymore.  I walk numbly toward the office to grab my tote bag with my change of clothes, and then shut myself quickly into the bathroom. 

I collapse against the door, burying my face in my bag.  Did I just kiss Tom? Did Tom just kiss me? Were we just kissing each other?!  I feel a huge, wide grin spread across my face, and I want badly to let out the high pitched squeal that’s stuck in my lungs.  Get it together, Charles. I push off of the door, and I start to quickly change.  It takes me longer than it should, as my hands are shaking and I’m practically radiating with nervous energy.  I strip off my shirt and jeans and then pull my simple, cotton sundress over my head.  It’s white and tan striped, and it looks nice against my skin and dark hair.  It has an exposed zipper in the back, which I can’t quite reach.  I make it half way up my back before I’m try to contort and wiggle, and I nearly fall over, banging into the door of the bathroom as I lose my balance.

“Charlie?” I hear Tom from somewhere in the bakery, most likely concerned by my bathroom acrobatics.

“I’m fine. I’m just…changing.” I sigh, and stuff my clothes into my bag.  I pull on a pretty floral infinity scarf over my head, and fluff it around my neck.  My hair is going to have to stay in a messy bun, as there’s not much I can do for it now.  I take a deep breath, and go back out into the kitchen. 

Tom looks completely unfazed.  He’s carrying large packages of sweets out the back door, and into the parking lot where my car is waiting.  When he sees me, he stops and stares at me for a split second before smiling and then he’s disappeared out the door.  That potato! He’s just oh so casual, as if we didn’t just snog each other silly.

He returns a minute later empty handed. 

“Can you…zip my dress?” I ask, pressing my lips together.  I stand awkwardly a few feet away.  He nods and then takes two long strides toward me, closing the distance between us.  He reaches forward, turning me gently.  I wait, holding my breath as he zips.  He’s careful, and I barely feel him. 

“All set.” His voice is a whisper by my ear.  I jump slightly, and then I’m moving quickly.  I gather all the things I’ll need--my bag, the Tiny Baker banner I had made, and a few other odds and ends.  Tom finishes packing up the car, and we don’t really say much to each other as we get in the car to leave.  It’s almost as if it never happened. 

Almost.  But it did.  It really did.  And as I drive us the short distance over to the high school, Tom starts rambling on about the festival, and how he hopes to see the bagpipers. He talks about his dad a bit as well, and I poke fun at him when he tries to imitate his dad’s Scottish accent (even though he’s spot on).  Not much has changed.  Not much at all.  Except now, I know what it feels like to have him hold me against him.  And I know what it feels like to hear him groan in pleasure because of something I’ve done.  And at about the half way point to the school, Tom reaches over and takes my hand in his.  So there’s that as well.