Jackson is a nice guy. A really nice guy.  He’s good looking, if on the shorter side, and he’s a scientist at one of the local university research centers.  He smells good, he opens doors, and we’ve gone on three dates.  Well, “date” is a loose term.  The first time we met, Mary was with us.  I forced her to come. It took me almost a month to give in to her pleading to set me up, so I told her if I was going to do it, then she was going to suffer through it with me.  So, we met for sushi and had a good evening just the three of us.

The second time, I accidentally bumped into Jackson at a bookstore.  I’d been meaning to return his calls, I really had, but just hadn’t gotten around to it.  After the sushi date, he’d texted me twice and left one voicemail.  Instead, I ran right into him in the line for coffee at ‘The Page’.  We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the café, talking about books and work and living in London.  It had been nice.  He smiled a lot, laughed at things that were funny and was very smart.  I enjoyed his company, and was fairly surprised by how much I did.

The third time was on purpose.  After the run in, we made plans to get dinner.  He suggested a pub near his university, so I met him there.  It was nice.  He didn’t have a lot of time, as he was technically still working (he works crazy hours).  That night we talked about relationships.  Our last ones (I said Richard, he said a woman named Veronica).  We both agreed that simplicity and honesty were good things.  I thought of Tom only twice during that conversation.

It was a nice date.  We had dinner, we split the bill, and he left with a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

So sparks weren’t exactly flying.  I wasn’t about to go spend a few hundred dollars on lingerie to impress him.  But I wasn’t opposed to seeing him again.  And Mary’s constant questions and gentle nudges toward seeing him again made it more and more easy to just give in and say “yes.”

Early this morning, I sent him a quick text, asking if he’d like to join me at the pub for Emily’s birthday.  I know everyone will be there.  Tom included.  I’m not saying that had any effect on my decision to invite Jackson, but…okay, maybe it did. 

Because Tom and I haven’t talked since I last saw him.  Since we danced to Billie Holiday, and I went home smelling his skin all over me.  He did call me. Once. And I ignored it, because it was nearly midnight, and I knew why he was calling.  It was the only reason he ever called me.

I ignored his call and then the next day, I had agreed to let Mary set me up with Jackson.  I’m not blind. I see the connection.  But in the interest of self preservation, I knew it was what I needed to do.  Things with Tom were getting too blurry.  I needed some clarity.

Jackson said he would meet me at the bar, since he was working late.  He said the project his team was working on was intense, and possibly near a break through.  He explained to me what they were researching, but he lost me somewhere around ‘incubation measurements’.

It’s closing in on eight as I make my way to the bar.  I spent way too much time getting ready, and then was late after poking myself in the eye with eyeliner, thus ruining my whole ‘carefree and so good looking I don’t have to wear makeup, but really I’m wearing a ton of makeup’ look.  I ended up having to wash my face and go with my standard mascara, bronzer and lip gloss.  It went better with the simple black maxi dress I decided to wear anyway.

The pub is buzzing when I get there, and it’s crowded.  I search through the crowd, and finally spot Emily across the room.  She’s sitting at a big table, surrounded by people. Her blond hair is curled up, and she’s wearing a pretty little sundress with an open back.  She looks happy, gorgeous and radiant. Mark is to her right, and they’re all laughing and carrying on.  I smile, glad to see she’s having a good time.

I make my way over, and come up behind her, just as someone at the table says something funny and they all erupt in laughter.  I don’t really recognize anyone there.  There’s a few familiar faces, but I don’t see Tom, and I don’t see the handful of friends that I have met.  My preferred night is one spent in, but I’ve met a small handful of Emily’s closest friends.

“Gracie! You came!” Emily turns when she senses me, and throws her arms around me.  I laugh, hugging her and then giving Mark a pat on the shoulder. 

“Of course I did. Happy Birthday!” I hand her a card and a small present, which are these really cool earrings I found in an outdoor market a few weekends ago.  Emily beams and gives me another hug.

“Thank you. You’re so sweet.” She squeezes my arm.  “You can pull a chair up if you’d like.  This place is packed! Or you can join the other tables.  Over there is Gretchen and John with Miranda and Phil.  And my brother is somewhere on the other side, if you’d rather find him.” She gestures to just across the small pub.  It’s quite the hole-in-the-wall, but I know it’s one of her favorite spots. I nod.

“A friend is meeting me here, so I’ll probably go find somewhere we can sit.” I smile.  Mark turns around, thrusting a mug of beer in my hand.  I take it, laughing.

“Here, darling.  Slainte!” He smiles.  I grin and we all clink our glasses together, the rest of the table joining in.  There’s definitely no room for me and Jackson at Emily’s table, so I make my way through the small bar.  I barely know her friends Gretchen and John, and when I spot them and the other couple, they are both making out rather ferociously at their table.  Well.

Last resort.  I keep going, holding my drink like some sort of security blanket, until I see a familiar face.

Tom’s sitting at a small table.  His hair is longer than the last time I saw him, and it’s a sandy, almost russet brown.  It brushes just by his ears, and he’s got a bit of stubble on his jaw and chin.  I can’t miss those eyes though.  And when he looks up, he sees me almost immediately, as if he can feel me staring at him.  He’s wearing what looks like a light jacket over a plain tshirt and jeans. 

He looks good enough to eat.  Good enough that I don’t even notice he’s not alone.  Not until it’s far too late.  I’ve been spotted, and he smiles at me. 

I take a step forward and then stop, when I realize he has his arm around the gorgeous blond sitting next to him. Ah. Didn’t see her. She sort of blends in with all the other gorgeous, thin, modelesque blonds in the bar.  The man sure does know how to pick them.  I blink, feeling a voice in my head scream “Run! Go! Get out!”, but my feet don’t listen. I move forward.  Leaving now would be so obvious.

“Hi!” My voice is weird and high. Maybe she’s just another one of his cousins…who rest’s her hand on his thigh. Nope.

“Gracie! Hi.” Tom stands up, leaning over the small table and giving me a quick hug.  I hug him back, and then glance at the woman still sitting next to him.  She’s looking up at me with inquisitive, somewhat judgmental eyes.

“Hi. I’m just here for…for Emily’s birthday.  My friend is meeting me in a bit.” I say awkwardly.  Tom nods and looks at me with an amused smile.

“This place is packed.  Do you want to sit? We can grab that other chair over there for your friend.” Tom is already moving before I can agree to stay.  It’s sort of his way of doing things.  I start to protest, but my voice is swallowed in the noise of the bar.  Tom shoves the extra chair into the space between his friend, and the chair I’m standing by, then gestures for me to sit.

“Thank you.” I manage, and I plunk down next to him.  We’re sitting rather close, so much so that my thigh is brushed up against his.  I take a long drink from my beer and then look at him, smiling.  He seems perfectly at ease, though I can practically hear my flight or fight gearing up to take over.

“Gracie, this is my friend, Serena.  Serena, this is Gracie. Gracie’s good friends with Emily…and me.” Tom says with an ease that only he can possess.  Only he could so easily, seamlessly introduce his fuck buddy to his girlfriend.  I wasn’t born yesterday.

“Nice to meet you.” Serena smiles, but I can already tell that she has the personality of a cardboard box.

“You too.” I nod.  I look at Tom and can’t help but send him daggers, which he seems to gladly accept, shaking his head at me.

“How are you?” He asks. 

“Good. My friend is meeting me here.” I say.

“Yes, you said that.  Who is your friend?” He says with this smug look. I want to smack it right off his face, but instead I press my leg into the side of his.  He presses back, until we’re both pushing against each other, though you’d never tell judging from our faces.  We both look absolutely totally and completely pleasant.

“His name is Jackson.  He’s a scientist. He’s super smart and handsome.” God, could I be anymore lame? 

Tom nods and then raises an eyebrow at me.

“Fascinating.” He mumbles as he takes a drink from his beer.

“He is.” I blink at him.  “How did you two meet?” I gesture to Serena, who finally deems me worthy to look at.  Tom licks his lips, and my hands once again itch to just give him a quick slap.  Just a little one. Tom smiles at Serena, crinkling his nose as he does.

“We met on set.  She’s an assistant to one of the other actors.” He said, looking back at me.  I nod.

“Fascinating.” I can’t help myself.  He narrows his eyes at me.

“Tom just swept me off my feet.  He’s so charming.” Serena smiles, and I see her slip her hand onto his thigh again, and rub back and forth.

“Yes, charming. Yup.” I nod.  I take another gulp of beer, and consider trying to drown myself in it, but then I’m sidetracked by a hand on my shoulder.

“Gracie. Sorry I’m late.” I look up, and my savior, Jackson is standing there. And he looks great.  All studious and smart.  He has on dark pants, and a plain white dress shirt with a herringbone jacket over top.  He’s got on these great thick rimmed glasses, and I swear he just stepped out of a “Gorgeous Scientists of 2012” calendar—if that exists.

“Jackson! Hi!” I stand up, pulling him into a hug.  He seems a bit surprised at first, because, maybe I’m laying it on a little thick, but he responds after a second.

“How’s research?” I smile, and I don’t bother waiting for an answer, because I’m far too nervous, and this is far too awkward.  “Jackson, I want you to meet my friend Tom, and his friend Serena.” I turn, and lock eyes with Tom.  He blinks and then turns to Jackson, smiling.

“Nice to meet you.” They shake hands, and seeing the two of them together feels strange.  Like the dude I recently slept with and sort of have weird feelings for, shouldn’t be touching the guy I think is kind of interesting and forcing myself to see. Yeah.

We all sit back down, though Serena never got up.  The conversation stays pretty light.  Tom immediately starts asking Jackson questions, before I can get a word in edgewise.  Where does he live? What does he do? What kind of research? Where did he go to school?

Jackson takes it all in stride, answering and being polite.  After ten or so minutes of what seems like constant grilling, he excuses himself to go up to the bar and order a round for us.  I turn quickly to Tom, jabbing him in the side.

“Jesus, Dad. Can you stop giving him the third degree?” I roll my eyes at Tom, who looks at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about.

“What?” He laughs, putting his hands up.  I sneer at him and then jab him one more time for good measure.  Serena is hardly paying attention, she’s sitting back, absorbed in something on her phone.  I think we lost her at ‘incubation measurements’ as well.  I don’t blame her honestly.  I think Tom now knows more about my date than I do.

“What else would you like to know? His blood type? His hopes and dreams?” I sigh heavily, biting my lip to keep from yelling at him.  Tom opens his mouth for a moment, and then closes it, pulling his head back and looking put off.

“We were just making conversation, Gracie girl.”

“Don’t ‘Gracie girl’ me.” I say softly.

“Have another beer, Gracie girl.” He pushes his pint toward me.  I take it, despite myself, and drain his glass.

“Thanks.” I say pointedly.

Tom barely contains his laugh, shaking his head.

“He seems sort of pompous, if you ask me.” Tom says, and I’m almost sure he’s baiting me.  I glare at him for a second before sitting back in my chair.

“Thank you, Mr Etonian, double firsts at Cambridge.” I grumble at him.  He laughs, too loud to truly be humorous, and then turns to me with a sharp look.

“Did you google me?!” He asks incredulously.  I swallow and then mimic his fake laugh.

“No, Hiddleston. Don’t flatter yourself.” I scoff.  Though, I totally did google him.  “I do happen to know most of your immediate family.  I don’t have time to google you. Why would I google you? I know what your house looks like.  I spend Christmas with your bloody family. I know what you look like nake—“ I freeze, because it is just then that I realize Jackson has come back, and Serena is staring rather angrily at me.  I can feel Jackson standing just over my shoulder, nearly overflowing beers dripping in his hands.

“Well.” Jackson says, setting down the beers. I turn to him, standing up and nearly knocking my chair over.  Tom is quiet.

“I’m sorry. This is…awkward.” I manage.  Jackson shrugs and then tucks his hands into his pockets.

“I should really get back to work anyway.” He says.  I nod, feeling my face start to burn.  He’s obviously blowing me off.  In front of Tom and what’s her name.  I feel like I’m being engulfed in my pathetic-ness.    

“I’m sorry.” I say again.  Jackson just nods and then leans in, giving me a quick hug.

“You’re a nice girl, Gracie, but I can’t deal with any drama.  If you’re not over your ex…” He trails off, and then pulls away, giving me an apologetic look.  I blink, then shake my head.

“No…he’s not…” I start, but I know it’s not really worth it.

“Nice meeting you.” Jackson waves to Tom and Serena half heartedly, and then turns and leaves the bar.  I stand, stunned and rather embarrassed for about thirty seconds.  I am dreading turning around and facing Tom. 

“Gracie…” Tom’s voice behind me, and I want so badly to just leave.

Thankfully, a few seconds later, we’re all interrupted.  There’s a low rumble of noise coming from the other side of the bar.  It starts as a sharp sort of cry, followed by a general uproar of sighs and exclamations.  We all turn toward the noise, which I quickly realize is coming from where Emily is sitting.  Tom gets up immediately, leaning forward as if ready to spring into action.

It takes me a minute, and a bit of standing on my tip toes to see through the crowd, to realize what is happening.

Mark is down on his knee.  Emily is crying, her face filled with happiness and excitement.  All her friends at her table are yelling out, laughing and crying as well.  Mark is proposing to Emily. 

I’m overjoyed for her. I’m ecstatic for her. I’m…I’m…I’m wondering how long until I can sneak out of this place, and go bury myself in a mountain of ice cream.  I really, truly am happy for her.  Her and Mark have been a given since they got together, so it’s not surprising that he’s finally proposed.  And in quite a public way.  Emily seems to eat it up though, and they immediately start celebrating with their friends.

I manage to squeeze in, congratulate them both.  It’s all a blur—a loud, hectic, celebratory blur.  I lose track of Tom almost instantly, which I’m so thankful for.  I was basically just dumped in front of him, and I’d like to not relive that for quite some time.  My first try at dating since…well…Richard, and I’m managed to rather fantastically land on my face. 

I have one more drink with the group, it’s a small drink.  I guzzle it down in all of a minute, just so I don’t feel bad about sneaking out.  The old Irish goodbye. And then I take my sad, dumped, slightly drunk self and slip out of the pub.

**** 

The summer night air is nice, and it’s quiet outside which is a vast change from the pub.  I take a deep breath as I walk out and check my phone as I do.  No messages.  No texts.  No calls. Not surprising.  I wonder if there’s a shop open still, so I can buy as much ice cream as I can possibly find.  Maybe I will fill my tub with it and just bathe in it.  Honestly, that sounds horrible, but I feel horrible. I picture myself in a soupy, chilly tub full of melted Chubby Hubby, just dipping my chin down low and slurping up my sad ice cream bath.  Depressing.

Jackson wasn’t anyone all that special.  But it was nice to entertain the idea again. The idea of…something.

I groan softly, pushing my hair over my shoulder and trying to shake off the terrible feeling I have. I can only imagine the reaction I’ll get from Mary when I tell her how royally I messed up.  I pick up my pace a bit, feeling overwhelmed.  I look around as I walk quickly through the still somewhat foreign streets.  It’s hard to feel at home, when you’ve got no ties anywhere.

I think of Santos as I cross the street. I miss him fiercely.  He’s promised he’ll be in for Christmas, which seems forever away, though it’s only four months.  I hold my breath as I walk, trying to force down the homesick feeling I have. I know if he were here now, he’d make me laugh.  He’d make fun of me and my terrible timing, and then he’d offer to buy all the ice cream.

“Gracie.” The voice behind me startles me from my thoughts, and I turn to look behind my shoulder.  I’m just drunk enough that I’m legitimately disappointed when I turn around and it’s not Santos standing there.

Tom is a few steps behind, looking worried and a bit out of breath. I stop, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What are you doing?” I ask, not bothering to hide the anger and annoyance in my voice.

“You left without saying anything.” He catches up to me, and then stops a foot away.  I sigh, shaking my head and rolling my eyes.

“So?”

“Is everything alright?” He asks.  I press my lips together.  What does he care?

“Yes.” I nod, lying.  It’s Tom’s turn to look annoyed.  He sighs and looks down, his hands coming up to his hips.

“I’m sorry about your date.  That was shitty.” He looks back at me and I shrug.

“It’s fine. It happens.”

“Right, well he’s an idiot.”

“It’s my fault.” My voice sounds robotic.  “Where’s your girlfriend?” I ask.  Tom’s jaw clenches and he looks away, then back to me.

“She went home.” He says simply.  I nod and then turn to leave, moving to walk away.

“Goodnight, Tom.” I say over my shoulder.  I make it a few steps before I feel him.  He grabs my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine.  He pulls me back, and spins me around so I’m inches from his chest.  I stare straight forward, refusing to look at him.

“Tom.” I whisper. “Pineapple.” I say finally.  There’s silence between us, and Tom is quiet, his hand still wrapped around mine.  I peek a glance up at him, and he’s looking ahead, his eyes seem far away.

“Pineapple.” I repeat. “And, I…I don’t mean for now.  I mean, for good.  I don’t think this is a good idea anymore.” I say softly.  I didn’t realize it was what I was going to say, but as I do it, I know that it’s what I’ve needed to say to him.  He looks down at me, finally, and I feel myself sway slightly. 

“Really? You’re done.” His voice is quiet.  I nod slowly.

“Yes.” I swallow.  Tom is silent.  He looks at me, his blue eyes full of concern.  I want to walk away, I want to leave, but I feel glued to the spot.  Tom leans forward then, the side of his face brushing against mine.  I hold my breath, feeling the heat of his body so near mine.  He is a force I’ve still not yet understood how to conquer.

He moves his face backward, and then his mouth is right next to mine, nearly touching it.  If I breathe too deeply, we’ll touch.  I close my eyes for a second, and then I tilt my head down and away, taking a breath.

“You have a girlfriend.” I manage.  I won’t break one of the rules.

“I know.” He says, his voice full of emotion.  Disappointment? Anger? At what, I’m not sure.  When I work up the courage to look at him finally, he’s looking down at me, his eyes so intense I involuntarily squeeze his hand.  He leans down again, and this time, his mouth brushes against the corner of mine. 

I count backwards from five, and then I put both hands up on his chest, pushing gently.

“Don’t.” I whisper, my words pleading and desperate.

And with that, I turn quickly, and nearly run down the street, only stopping when I’ve made it three blocks and I know he hasn’t followed me.