Rachel suggest going to The Bar for some drinks, since Sam is busy with grading finals, and we're both feeling a bit stir crazy.  I balk at the idea at first, simply because I haven't been there since my run in with Disgusting Frat Boy #47.  She doesn't know about that incident, and I don't feel like rehashing the past, so I agree after a few minutes of her begging.

"We could go somewhere else? The Clamshell? Only difference is the Clam doesn't have a particularly handsome, British, single, Dad-of-the-year working there." Rachel glances at me over her shoulder as she finishes unpacking a box of new glazes that were just delivered earlier in the day.  I pause, purse my lips and shake my head.

"I have no idea who you're talking about." I say with a hint of a smile.

"Liar." Rachel rolls her eyes, and stands up straight. "Come on. I need a drink, and you need to see him. I can tell." She grins and then starts to yank me out the door. 

We walk there quickly, not speaking much.  It's a nice night out, but the sky is threatening rain.  We still walk, not worrying about the weather, both of us enjoying the fresh air.  It's been four days since I last saw or spoke to Tom.  I want to speak to him.  Want to see him again. But part of me is hesitant—cautious.  This is new territory for me, in so many ways, and I want to make sure I know what I'm doing.  I've spent the last few days thinking, and weighing my options, and replaying the kiss and all of our conversations over and over in my head.  And my conclusion is...that I still don't know what I'm doing. Not even in the least bit.

Since it's a Wednesday night, The Bar is pretty dead.  Nothing like the packed house when I was there last time.  I breathe a sigh of relief as we walk up to the building, and I see that there are only a few cars in the parking lot.  Inside, it is dark and intimate, quieter than I expected.  There's a few people sitting at tables, and four or five people at the long bar.  Other than that, it's empty.

I slide up next to Rachel, who takes the first stool directly in the center of the bar.  The wooden seat is cool under my bare thighs, and I yank gently at my cuffed jean shorts as I get comfortable.  The humidity has wrecked havoc on my hair, and so I pull it back into a messy bun so it stays out of my face.  I don't see Tom behind the bar, but instead it's his coworker that I recognize from the other night—the pretty one who had dark hair and impressive cleavage.  Still pretty. Still dark. Still cleavagey.

"Hi ladies. What can I get for you?" She walks over to us, smiling at Rachel.  When she sees me, she does a double take.  I'm not sure if it's because she remembers me from the night before, or she's recognizing me as Baby.  I'm not sure if either is preferable.

"Blue moon, please." Rachel glances over at me.  I haven't had much to drink—not since my camping trip on her deck.

"And a coke, hmm?" Tom comes from out of nowhere, but more likely from the back rooms behind the bar.  I look up, surprised.  I can't help but smile, it's almost a knee-jerk reaction.

"Seltzer with lime." I shake my head.  "I don't want to form a habit." His eyes lock on mine, and they crinkle at the sides as he returns the smile. 

"Chelsea, I've got this." Tom nods to his coworker, who finishes pulling Rachel's beer. 

"You look familiar." Chelsea says to me, setting the beer down in front of my sister.  Tom glances at me and then back at his coworker, a worried look on his face.  I smile and shrug.

"I have one of those faces." I say easily.  My standard response. 

"Hmm." Chelsea raises a dark eyebrow and then looks to Tom.  "Finished in the back, Tom-o? I'm going to go on my break." She asks him and he nods in response as she walks away, her hips swinging as she does.

"She's friendly." Rachel mutters under her breath and Tom gives her a quick laugh.

"Some of the customers like her...special attitude." He grins.  Tom makes my drink, and places it down on the coaster in front of me.  He leans forward, and for a second, I think he's going to kiss me.  Right there in front of my sister, the bar, the world.  But he doesn't, he just leans against his arms and smiles in a relaxed sort of way.

"How are finals, Tom?" Rachel asks, breaking the silence.  I sit up, not realizing that I'd been leaning forward, toward Tom and I quickly take a drink. 

"Hell." He stands up straight, and starts fiddling around behind the bar.  He's wearing a tshirt tonight—a plain white one that should look sloppy or boring, but instead looks altogether way too appealing stretched across his broad shoulders and straining ever so slightly at his biceps.  I take another drink and wish I'd had vodka added.

"Same for Sam.  He's home now working on grades." Rachel sighs.  Tom nods and crosses his arms, threatening the threadbare life of the material smoothed over his arms. 

"I wish I could be as well.  It's been nonstop.  We've got another few days left and then it'll be smooth sailing for the rest of the summer." He pauses and glances at me, his eyes giving away nothing.  I look away, focusing in on my sister, trying not to feel the burn in my cheeks.  Why does he have to look at me like that?  Like he's positively starving.

"The summer semester is almost over?" I glance at him, but only for a second.  It's a stupid question, because of course I know the answer, but I force myself to speak and say something.  Anything to try and feel normal.

"Ends on Friday.  Which is why I am scrambling right now.  There's never enough time, but I'll make due." He shrugs and winks at Rachel in a laid back, harmlessly flirty way.  She smiles.

"Sam and I are going away this weekend, since he'll be finished.  He's been so stressed, I thought it would be good to get away." Rachel turns to me and takes a deep breath.  This is news to me.

"Are you? I didn't know." I take another sip. I can't help but wonder if I'm cramping their style, a little too much. 

"Yeah, just for Friday and Saturday night.  We'll be back Sunday evening.  We're going to go to Pennsylvania and do some hiking." She brushes a hand through her hair.  She has hair like mine—white blond, but shorter and she keeps it a bit more tamed than I have ever managed to.

"Am I overstaying my welcome?" I ask softly, leaning toward her.  Tom goes back to cleaning up around the bar, and serving drinks to two women that have just sat down.  I keep one ear on him, listening to him as he greets them.  They giggle and flirt with him, and he flirts back, in a rather subdued, harmless way.  He's charming, that one.  He can't even help it. 

Rachel shakes her head, almost violently and reached for my arm.

"No, don't be an idiot." She rolls her eyes.  "We've just been under a lot of stress.  And we both thought that maybe a change of scenery would be nice.  It has nothing to do with you.  You're the perfect house guest, believe me." Rachel squeezes my arm, and I feel a little better.  She wouldn't lie to me.  The truth is, I could easily get a hotel room somewhere in town.  But when I'd first come home, I had needed the company.  Needed to be somewhere homey and real—not a stale, sterile hotel room.  God knows I've seen enough of those to last more than a lifetime.

"Okay, well...when you want me gone, just say so. Please." I ask.  She shrugs and gives me a wide smile.

"I'll let you know, don't you worry."

"Are you guys renting a cabin? Or staying in a hotel?" Tom asks, walking back over to us.  He moves a dish rag from hand to hand, and then wipes down the counter behind the bar.  The two women he'd just been serving are whispering to each other, both eyes on him still.  I raise an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs and then gives me a wide, easy grin.  I roll my eyes with a soft chuckle.

"A cabin.  It has a hot tub and an amazing view." Rachel sighs, and looks momentarily very far away.  I grin and nudge her.

"Have a good time, you hussy." I laugh. 

"Speaking of a good time—what will you do while we're gone? With an empty house all to yourself?" Rachel looks over at me, and her grin gets wider and wider.  She then turns and looks pointedly at Tom.

"Say, Tom, what are you up to this weekend?" She asks innocently.  I could kill her with my bare hands.  Tom blushes, he actually blushes.  I see the pink in his cheeks, and he coughs softly into his hand before being able to look at either of us.   I told Rachel we had kissed.  As soon as I'd gotten home that night, I had told her.  I had to tell someone or I felt I would burst.  She spent a few minutes lecturing me, but then she asked me for all the details. 

"I've got a lot of grading to do." He says, hiding a smile.  Rachel frowns.

"You should be done that by this weekend.  Classes end Friday." She reaches under the bar and pinches my thigh, right above my knee.  I hold in a yelp, but I kick her back, square in the shin. 

"Classes end Friday, grades aren't truly due until the following week." He leans against the bar, his eyes shining with amusement.  I'm not sure if my face is pink or red or purple with embarrassment.  "But perhaps you're right.  I could be free this weekend." He adds softly. 

"Rach, how are those new tea pots selling?" I look at my sister, and change the subject so rapidly that she must have been waiting for it.  She barely misses a beat as she takes another drink from her beer.

"Not bad. I've almost sold out." She squints at me, and with barely a movement, nods toward Tom.  I shake my head 'NO'.  She looks down and pulls her phone out of her pocket, checking it for a messages. 

"Billie." Tom says my name, and I am forced to look at him, or I'd be truly the rudest person alive. 

"Hi." I perk up, and turn myself in his direction.

"Will you be in the studio this week at all?" He asks.  I blink a few times and then nod.

"Yes, most likely."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." He gives me a half crooked smile.  "You'll have to let me know, and if I have a break between classes, I'd love to come hear you again."

"Sure." I nod dumbly.  He turns and starts to refill Rachel's beer, as he breaks into a big yawn. 

"Sorry.  No rest for the wicked." He murmurs.

"You haven't been sleeping well?" I blurt out.  Neither have I.

"Well, I've been sleeping fine.  I just haven't been sleeping enough.  Things are crazy around this time.  Work, finals, grading.  Rosie has two back to back doctor's appointments tomorrow so I'm bringing Gems to class with me.  I've got two classes and a grad session, so it should be interesting.  There's only so many coloring books and iPad apps that will keep her quiet and busy." He shrugs and leans back against the counter.  I study his face for a moment, just now noticing the slight dark smudges under his eyes, telltale signs that he's tired.  His eyes are alert though, and his smile comes easy as always.  I get the sudden urge to hide in bed with him, all day long.  Or curl up on the couch, his head in my lap, gently running my fingers through his sandy hair. 

Jesus H.  Is there vodka in this drink?

"You know, you could bring Gemma to the studio.  I'll watch her.  Hang out with her.  Most of the time, I'm just sitting there listening.  The booth is sound proof, so she won't disturb anyone recording.  She can make as much noise as she wants." I say the words before I really think them through, but I'm glad I say them.  Who would have thought?  Baby Darling, Babysitter extraordinaire.

Tom frowns at me for a second, and then raises an eyebrow.

"I don't know." He shakes his head, and starts refilling glasses around the bar.  One of the women down the bar, reaches forward and grabs Tom's hand as he refills her drink.  She scribbles something on his wrist, and Tom just watches her, an eyebrow lifted at her boldness.  I watch, my mouth hanging open for a moment, before I grunt and look back at my sad, alcohol-less drink.  I glance at Rachel, who is rapidly texting on her phone, totally clueless.  She hops off her stool, and gestures that she'll be right back as she lifts the phone to her ear to make a call.  A moment later, Tom is back.

"I couldn't ask you to do that." Tom says, totally ignoring the fact that he was hit on just  a second ago. I stare at him for a long moment, my eyes wide.  He blinks and then gives me a knowing look.

"Hazard of the job.  Numbers you don't want.  Offers that aren't appealing." He says in a lowered voice.  He grabs a bar rag, and discreetly rubs at his wrist, smudging away the phone number the woman has just left.

"I bet." I say softly.  It's funny really.  I don't blame the girl for trying. "How many of those do you get in a night?" I ask, nodding toward his arm.  He shrugs, looking bashful for a second.  "Come on. You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine." I wink.  He laughs, loudly, his shoulders shaking.

"On a good night—the touristy sort on a weekend.  I can get a dozen if I'm in a good mood." He gives me a slow, sly smile that somehow makes my stomach clench, despite the fact that he's telling me he could have upwards of 12 women a night in his bed.  I hope he stretches beforehand.

"Wow.  Impressive." I lean forward against the bar.

"You? I bet you get hundreds." He leans back.

"I can get a few." I demure.  He laughs and pushes his hands into his pockets, shaking his head at me.

"The real question is...will you or have you ever called any of them?" He asks.  I laugh and shake my head.

"No. I won't and I haven't." I giggle, and finish my drink, suddenly feeling a bit dry mouthed.  Tom steps forward, reaching for my glass in my hand.  He takes it from me, setting it down gently on the bar, and stretches my arm out over the smooth wood surface.  I watch him, my brow creased.  He runs a big hand down my forearm and then he grabs a pen, and leans close as he begins writing on my wrist.  He writes for just a few seconds, but I smile as I see it's a number.  His number, of course.

"What about now? Will you ever call any of them?" He says softly, looking at me with his ocean blue eyes.  I want to kiss him, so badly I can nearly taste his lips.  I feel his hand on mine, still holding my arm over the bar, his bigger hand cupping mine gently. 

"Maybe." I whisper breathlessly.  The corners of his mouth lift.

"Well you have my number now, Billie Darling.  I've wanted to talk to you the past few days, but aside from stalking you outside your house, I had no way of getting in touch."

"You wouldn't be the first to stalk me outside my house." I manage with a cynical tone, my heart thumping softly but strongly.  "Besides, you could have called Sam or Rach." I smile.  He grins and nods, and then leans back, letting go of my hand.

"They would have crucified me." He laughs, just as Rachel comes back to the bar.  She looks at us, her eyes full of questions.  I pull my arm back to my side, feeling the numbers on my wrists as if he'd just branded me.  His number.  I feel like I'm sixteen again and I've gotten the number of the boy I like.  It's like a key to an uncharted world.

"What's going on?" Rachel raises an eyebrow and looks from me to Tom and then back to me.

"Um, I just..." I take a deep breath.  "I offered to babysit Gemma tomorrow for Tom." I smile wide at my sister, who doesn't buy it for a second but then shrugs.

"That's a great idea!" She nods.  Tom holds up his hands and shakes his head.

"Tom, really.  It's not a big deal.  You need help.  I'm free." I shrug.  He comes back over, his jaw set and his eyes locked on me.  Maybe I'm crazy, but I can practically feel the kiss from the other night, hanging between us. 

"She's a lot of work." The corner of his mouth tilts up.  I raise an eyebrow.

"Let me help you, Tom." I ask.  He sighs softly, and I see his jaw clench.  It's not easy for him to accept help, I can tell.  He's far too used to being a one man show.  Sure, he has Rosie, and she is just as much a parent to Gemma as he is.  But I can tell he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.  I wish he would let me help.  Even in a tiny way.

"Tom." I say, using a much more stern voice. He laughs then, softly and gives me a tiny nod of his head.

"Okay. Alright.  But I owe you.  Big time." He reaches over the bar then, and takes my hand between his two much larger ones.  The urge to kiss him is strong.  Fierce.  I bite the inside of my lip, and take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, guys. I need to go back home.  Sam says the internet is down, and he needs to go to the library. I have the car keys in my bag." Rachel groans, and then chugs the rest of her beer.  Tom and I watch appreciatively.

"Do you want to stay here or come back with me?" She asks. 

"I'll come with you." I nod, slipping my hand from Tom's.  As much as I'd like to sit and talk to him more, I'm also wary of staying here alone and having another drunk frat boy decide to tell me all his disgusting stories.  Plus, the ladies down the bar are watching how Toms holding my hand, and I'm getting invisible eye daggers aimed at the side of my head.

"How much do we owe you, Tom?" Rachel asks, digging through her bag.  Tom shakes his head.

"On the house.  Just come visit me more often." He looks at me then and smiles.  My heart thumps a bit harder in my chest.

"That's not a bad deal." Rachel grins, and gets up and begins making her way to the door, in a hurry and not bothering to wait for me.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask, slipping off the bar stool.  Tom nods, and then holds up a hand, motioning for me to wait.  He jogs around the bar, and comes out onto the floor, stopping just in front of me.  I'm still not used to his height. I may never be.  He dwarfs me.  I tighten my hands at my sides, feeling a rush of adrenaline push through me.

"Thank you.  Really.  You're a lifesaver." He gives me a soft smile, his blue eyes thankful and gentle.  I look up at him and tilt my head, slightly. 

"Gemma's great.  I love spending time with her." I say softly.  Tom nods, something unintelligible flashing through his eyes.  He leans down then, wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him.  His kiss is warm, gentle and then breathtakingly fierce.  It's not a long kiss, but god, does it take my breath away.  It's as if he's inhaled me, taken all the air from my lungs.  I melt against him.

"Thank you.  Call me, yeah?" He whispers softly against my ear, his breath warm against my hair and neck.  I smile, and press my hands into his hands, squeezing gently.  He's real.  He's solid and real and not at all a figment of my imagination.

"Okay.  And remember, you owe me, right?" I pull back, suddenly realizing we've drawn a few stares from other bar patrons.  The two women down the bar are practically gawping at us.  Oops.  I don't think they recognize me, but we've just put on quite an interesting public display of affection.  Not something I normally do, but it just...couldn't be helped.

"Oh, I'll remember." His voice is low, gravelly.  I kiss him quickly on the lips, and then push him away playfully.

"Bye, Tom."

"Good night, Billie Darling." He grins, slow and lazy, as if he knows what's coming and takes pleasure in the fact.  And maybe I do too.  Just a little bit.

 ****

"She got into a stash of sweets at Rosie's this morning.  So she has more sugar in her than...well...it's alarming, really." He looks at me apologetically as Gemma comes bounding into the studio.  Her dark, curly hair is in tiny pigtails, and she's wearing a brightly colored dress with completely clashing cotton leggings.

"I've packed snacks though.  Apple slices and string cheese and juice.  She'll drink water too.  And there's coloring books, books and games in here." He sets down a backpack he's been carrying.  It's pink with tiny colorful horses all over it. 

"Oh fun!" I laugh.  Sam is still in his office, getting last minute music ready, and our first student hasn't shown up yet.   The studio is empty right now, save for Gemma who is hopping from the couch to the producer's chair. We have a slow morning, so it's a perfect day to have her around.

"She demanded she dress herself this morning, hence the...rainbow vomit explosion." He waves his hands toward her, and groans softly.  "And she refused to let Rosie touch her hair, so it was up to me.  I'm rubbish at it, but...it is what it is." He grimaces.  One pigtail is rather higher than the other, but she still looks adorable nonetheless.  I glance at Tom, wondering how he's holding up.  He's Professor Tom this morning, in dress pants and a dress shirt.  He's got his glasses on, which makes him look a bit dorky, but mostly like the sexy academic sort.  I get a flashing image of making out in the library stacks, tossing his glasses onto the floor, and grabbing him by the tie...

"Tom fell this morning in his underwear." Gemma breaks my train of thought, and Tom's eyes get so wide I'm almost certain they will bulge from his head.  I hold in a laugh and lean down toward Gemma, who is grinning up at Tom.  He narrows his eyes at her and she giggles loudly.

"Gemma." He blinks.

"Are you alright?" I smile, trying not to laugh.

"He hurt his bum.  He said a bad word.  He said 'bloody—"

"Gemma!" Tom cuts her off, and then squats down so he's eye level with her.  I have to stand back up, and hide my face so I don't burst into a gigglefit.  I hear Tom scold her gently, and then send her off toward the couch in the back of the room with a book.

"Well. Good morning." He stands up, his cheeks flushed.  I look up at him, noticing again the dark smudges under his eyes, the appealing lines between his eyebrows.  He does look a bit more thrown together than usual this morning.  One side of his shirt is slightly untucked, his hair seems to be curling just a bit more at the sides.  He looks more like a student than the teacher, but he's handsome and disarmingly charming nonetheless.

"Are you alright? How's your bum?" I ask with a tiny smile. I fight the urge to reach behind him and give him a pat.  He narrows his eyes at me and then groans.

"We were running late.  There were about four thousand tiny little cars lined up in the hallway outside the bathroom.  God knows where they came from, because Gemma swears it wasn't her." He sighs and then laughs.  "Anyway, a spectacular fall and some rather loud cursing, and our whole morning was off to a rubbish start." He puts his hands on his narrow hips and I can't help but smile.  I reach forward, slide my arms around his waist, and yank him into a hug.  He is tense for a second, but then melts against me. 

I spent most of the night after leaving the bar, thinking about him.  I ran my fingers over the numbers he wrote on my wrist, memorizing them first by sight and then by touch.  It is nice to see him again so soon.

"I hope your day gets better." I whisper into his ear.  He presses his face into my hair and takes a deep breath.

"Mmm, it already has.  Thank you, again, for watching her.  Truly." He says as we pull apart.  He squeezes my hand in his and we lock eyes for a moment.  It's crazy to think that a little more than a month ago, I spent nearly every day in a rush of people.  A crowd always around me.  At night, I was surrounded by people I barely knew in my own house.  I felt utterly and completely alone.  Now, I go to sleep in a quiet, nearly empty house, save for my sister and her husband.  I spend most of my days by myself, with the exception of a handful of people.  And yet, I feel more full, more connected than ever before.  And when I look at Tom...I feel something I haven't felt in so very, very long.  Something that seems so fragile, and so uncertain that I'm scared to acknowledge it.  It feels something like hope.

"I know you're really busy.  And you've got no free time, and you're working and you've got Gemma...but if you are free at all this weekend, I would love it if you could come over to Sam and Rachel's.  I could make you dinner.  Since you made me dinner the other night.  You could bring Gemma." I say this all in rather quick, rapid fire way, before I can even fully think about what I'm asking.  Tom crosses his arms over his chest, his mouth in a set, straight line, watching me. 

"I have been really busy." He nods.  I let out a slow breath and shake my head, understanding.  But he continues.  "But Saturday night, I should have some free time.  And Gemma is staying with Rosie on Saturday so...it would be just me." He says, and then one corner of his mouth lifts just a bit.  I flush, feeling pleasure run up my spine and heat my face. 

"Oh.  Okay." I breathe softly.  "Okay well, Saturday then.  Saturday would be good." I nod.  He grins, a full on smile, and I feel my stomach flip. 

"Can I bring anything? Ice cream?" He laughs softly. 

"No. No, just you." I shake my head and then break into a smile. 

"Tom, can we play Princess? I'm the knight and you're the princess.  Billie can be the dragon." Gemma pipes up from across the room, and I'm brought back into real life.  Real life where it's not just me and Tom playing this game.  There's someone else involved.  Someone who I would never, ever want to hurt.  I glance over at Gemma, and she is looking at both of us with unabashed anticipation.  I feel a tug of apprehension in my stomach, and when I look at Tom, I could swear that he feels it too.  He looks down, his eyes lost in something I can't quite read, but the moment passes quickly. 

"I can be a really excellent dragon." I say as I step forward, trying to push the slight uneasiness from my mind.  I throw back my head and roar out my best dragon impression.  It sounds more like a dying dinosaur, but she seems to buy it.  Gemma squeals and then claps her hands.

"Tommy is the best princess.  And you're the best dragon." She jumps off the sofa and begins skipping around the room, dancing to some sort of music that only she can hear.

"I have no secrets with her around." Tom deadpans softly, shaking his head.  We laugh, and then I push him quickly out of the room, so he can go to work.  I'm looking forward to spending the rest of the day with Gemma, playing knights and dragons, though I know my mind will be firmly in the future—more specifically, Saturday night.