Tom stands up, completely naked, and walks from the room, disappearing into the kitchen.  I watch him leave, admiring the long lines of his back and torso, and his strong lean legs.  Runner’s legs.  Oh, and his ridiculously nice ass.  Really. Nice ass. I look around, sitting up slightly, as I’m lying sprawled on his living room carpet.  Not totally ladylike, but he’s the one that did this to me.  My legs are absolute jelly. 

“Do you want more wine?” Tom calls out from the other room.  I groan, my head already feeling fuzzy from the wine at dinner.

“No, god no.” I mutter. “Water, please?” I hear him chuckle, and then a moment later he walks back out.  Oh, hello.  That’s quite a sight—the front side.  Even better than the backside, if I do say so myself.  He leans down and hands me a cold glass of water, which I take quickly and take a sip.  I’m a little parched.

Like I’ve been running a marathon. Ahem.

Tom picks up his boxers from the floor and pulls them on, then joins me on the floor.  I’m suddenly more than aware that I’m still completely nude.  He doesn’t seem to mind though, he immediately puts a big hand on my thigh, running it absently up and down my skin.

“That was fun.” I say lamely, handing Tom my glass to hold.  He leans back on his arms and gives me a strange look.

“Are you alright?” He says slowly.  I nod, and then reach over him, my boobs practically in his face, so I can grab my (his) shirt from earlier.  Tom grabs me suddenly around the waist and pulls me to him, smashing my breasts in his face. I laugh and wrap my arms around his head, pulling him against me even more.  I’m not sure if he can breath, but he’s not protesting.

“Your breasts are fantastic.” He mumbles, distractedly.

“Thank you.” I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile.  “And I’m fine.” I push him away with a laugh and then pull the tshirt on.  Tom releases me and makes another face.

“Really? Because you just said ‘That was fun’ in the most unenthusiastic voice I’ve ever heard.” He sits up, leaning against the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him.  I sit up as well, pulling my hair to the side.

“I’m just a little worried.” I clench my teeth together, looking over at Tom who has a concerned look on his face.  Brow furrowed, jaw set.  Handsome as hell.

“About?”

“Your mom.”

“My…mother.” Tom takes a deep breath and brings a hand up to his jaw, rubbing it back and forth over his chin.  He doesn’t look very pleased with my answer.  Not at all.  I have fantastic pillow talk, I know.

“I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about us.  I really like your mother.  Your whole family. I don’t want her to be disappointed. I just…” I chew on my lip and then pull my knees up to my chest, yanking Tom’s shirt over them like a big tent.  Tom nods, and reaches over, running a hand over my knee through the shirt.  He pats my knee and then reaches up and runs his finger down the slope of my nose.

“Don’t worry about her, Gracie.  The honest truth is my mum loves you.  She thinks you and Santos are the best thing since hot buttered toast.  Nothing will change that.” He squeezes my knee and then hands me back my glass, which I take and take a sip.

“If you say so, Thomas.” I mumble jokingly.  Tom cringes and runs a hand over his face, then through his rather messy hair. I did that. I take full credit.

“Don’t call me that.” He laughs.

“What? Thomas? It’s your name. Or would you rather I called you Will?” I purse my lips at him and he lets out a loud, happy laugh. 

“Only if I get to call you Jamie.” He tilts his head and I shake mine.

“So why not Thomas?”

“Because my father calls me Thomas.  My father and only my father.” Tom licks his lips and frowns.  I blink, waiting.  No one ever talks about Tom’s dad.  I’ve never met him, and I’ve never even heard Emily speak about him.

“You never talk about him.” I wait.  Tom looks at me out of the corner of his eye, and then nods slowly.

“Exactly.” He says stubbornly.  Perhaps this conversation isn’t going anywhere.

“You don’t shut up, do you? Just ‘Tom Tom Tom’, all day long.” I joke, elbowing him in the side.  He scoffs and laughs softly.

“Right, well there’s not much to say.  Anyway, you don’t talk about your dad either.  Or your mum.” He shoots back at me.  I smile and then shrug, looking down and finding sudden interest in the plush carpet.  I dig my fingertips into it, leaving little divots. 

“Well, you  know.”

“I really don’t though.”

“They’re not around. That’s really all you need to know.  It’s about as much as I know.” I say with a quick, heartless laugh.  Tom nods and looks down, his fingers mimicking mine.  Digging little carpet holes, and then smoothing them over, then repeating.

“Well, my dad was around.  He was around a lot.  We just never quite saw eye to eye.” Tom breathes deep and then clears his throat as he sits up straighter.  “He was a shit to my mum sometimes too.  Nothing terrible but, she deserves the world.  And he was gone a lot. Work.” Tom suddenly seems uncomfortable, as if he can’t find a good way to sit.  He moves about for a few seconds, before standing up quickly and walking over to one of the large wall to wall bookcases he has on the far wall. He opens something up, riffles through a few things on the shelves, and then a moment later music comes crackling to life.  A record player. 

Tom stands for a moment, in just his boxers, swaying slightly to the music, his eyelids lowered.  He opens his eyes, dark blue with some sort of emotions I can’t quite put a finger on.  He watches me, then starts softly singing along to the music.

“All of me, why not take all of me? Can’t you see? I’m no good without you.” His voice is low, warm and just a tad bit silly.  I smile, watching him.  He holds out a hand, silently asking me to join him.  I laugh and then shake my head.

“You’re insane.” I say softly, but I’m already moving to get up.  He grabs my hand, then pulls me into his embrace.  One of his deft hands goes to the small of my back, the other takes my hand, leading me gently as we move. 

“Your goodbye left me with eyes that cry.  How can I go on dear, without you? You took the part that once was my heart. So why not take all of me?” He leans down, singing ever so softly into my ear as we move slowly around his living room.  He’s shirtless, and I’m wearing just a shirt, but it’s sort of…perfect.  I can’t help but smile, and then let him tuck me into that lovely spot next to his chest, moving along to the music.

“I love this song.” I lean my forehead against his shoulder, then gasp softly as Tom pulls back and leads me into a spin.  I laugh, twirling under his hand, and then come back to settle against him.  We keep moving, slowly and then a bit faster with the music.  Our bare feet noiselessly moving over the carpet, the house quiet except for the perfect, exquisite voice of Billie Holiday. We slow down as the song nears the end, but we don’t completely stop moving.  We stay together, swaying slowly, as the music starts to fade, the faint popping and scratching of the record filling the room.

“Are you dating anyone?” His voice is right near my ear.

“No.” I swallow.

“Why not?” He pulls back, just so we can see each other’s faces.  We stay as if we are still slow dancing. I’m not sure if he’s baiting me—just trying to play with me, or if he’s sincere.  Another song starts up on the record player, though neither of us start moving any faster.

“Because. I just…I’m not.” I say lamely, somewhat surprised by his question. The air between us is still, quiet.

“You don’t get lonely?” He asks.

“Sometimes.” I say honestly. “Maybe I’m just used to it.  Being alone is better than having people let you down.” I stop moving, and Tom does as well. He doesn’t let go of me though.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” He breathes.

“Don’t you get lonely?” I ask suddenly.  Tom keeps his eyes on me. I can feel him breathing, see the slow rise and fall of his chest.

“Sure.” He says softly with a slow nod of his head.

“So what do you do? When you feel lonely?” I go to let go of his hand and take a step back, but Tom locks his arm around my waist and holds tight to my hand.  Billie Holiday keeps singing, oblivious to the way my heart has nearly seized up in my chest.  Tom is just a friend. 

“I run. I work. I work more. I call you.” He says.  Tom quickly moves then, dipping me back effortlessly.  I let him, and we move slowly as he brings me back upright.  He pulls me back into his chest, and then we keep dancing, more in time with the music. 

It would be hard to describe how I am feeling.  My heart is pounding in my throat.  I stay with him though, my eyes locked with his deep blue ones.  He spins me around again, then stops me halfway around, pulling my back to his chest, both our arms wrapped around me.  We sway for a moment and Tom leans into me, then seems to bury his face into my neck and hair.  He does this for only a split second before twirling me back out, then we keep moving through his living room and then eventually out into the wide open space away from the loft. 

We dance through his first floor, not speaking, just listening.  It’s not at all how I expected this night to go.

“I should go soon. I can’t stay.” I say to him after some time.  He looks down at me, his mouth in a stern line.  He’s thinking, I can tell, but he just nods and we keep dancing.

“If that’s what you want.  I’ll drive you home.”

“I can get a cab.” I say as we move around his dining room table. 

“I’ll drive you.” He says, and that is that. 

We dance for a few more minutes, and then… then I gather up my things.  I put on his sweats, gather up the lingerie that was long abandoned in his bedroom.  Tom changes into jeans and a hoodie, his hair messy and his eyes a bit bleary.  It’s late.  We’re both tired.  He’d let me stay if I asked.  He’d let me stay even if I didn’t ask.

But for some reason, I know I can’t. Tom grabs his keys from a hook by the door, and holds the door open for me. 

Less than twenty minutes later, I’m home, in my one room empty, cold apartment.  I climb into bed, wearing clothes that practically smother me with the smell of him.  I pull his shirt up to my face, breathing him in for a moment, before I strip, quickly, throwing them to the other side of the room.

None of that.  We’ll be having none of that. 

I dress quickly in my own pajamas.  They smell normal.  They smell like detergent and…nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 ****

Mary is waiting for me on Thursday morning.  As soon as I walk into the beautiful, old sitting room we use as an office, she is there, waiting for me.  She thrusts a cup of tea into my hand, and then looks at me with big gleaming eyes.

“And? How did it go?” She asks.  She’s been texting me all week, but I kept putting her off.  

I smile and walk over to my desk, setting down the mug and my things.

“Can I get a minute? I just walked in.” I say jokingly.  My huge, ornate desk is not an antique, but it was created to match the rest of the furniture in the house.  Everything as close to authentic as possible.  Even though tourists don’t come through our office, it seemed important not to have a modular desk from IKEA perched in the middle of a 17th century architectural masterpiece.  We occasionally have clients in, and it’s nice for everything to look like it belongs.

“You’ve had DAYS. Now tell me.” Mary leans against my desk and blinks, waiting like a patient owl.

“I already got the third degree from Santos.” I sigh.  Third degree burns, more like it.  He practically screamed when I told him about Darla being there, and then made me tell the story two more times so he could laugh a little more obnoxiously each time.  Then, I’m pretty sure he popped an ovary when I told him about dancing to Billie Holiday.  He told me I should marry Tom, and I told him that I would as long as it meant we still were just friends with benefits.

“You should have done a conference call, because you’re gonna have to tell me all the lurid details.” Mary clicks her tongue, shaking her head.  She’s wearing some sort of frilly blouse, with enough ruffles on her throat and chest, that she sort of looks like some sort of puffy bird.  It works for her though. 

“What do you want to hear? The part about how I stripped nearly naked in front of Tom, and…his cousin who was visiting? Oh, and his mother was there too, but not in the room, thank god.  Or the fact that I immediately changed into sweatpants and ate pasta after that?” I smile at Mary, who looks horrified, but then thoughtful.

“Sweatpants and pasta sound sort of nice, actually.” She shrugs.  “I’m on this low carb diet—“  I laugh, and then sigh as I launch into my story about the night.  Mary listens intently, as she always does.  She gasps at certain points, shrieks at others and goes all gooey eyed at others.  I leave out a few things though.  For my own sake.  She’s lovely, but she’s no Santos. 

“So lingerie just really isn’t my thing.  Lesson learned.” I giggle.

“Maybe not. But it did get the job done, right?” She lifts her hands up, looking amused.  I rub my hands over my cheeks, feeling them burn a bit pink. 

“It did.”

“So what’s next? What’s next?!” Mary exclaims, standing up straight and then reaching over my desk, shaking my shoulders.  I laugh, grabbing her hands and steadying us both. 

“I don’t know.  I’ll see him soon, I’m sure.  We always do end up bumping into each other.”

“A date then?” She looks so hopeful, and I hate to crush her tender little soul.

“Oh…no. No.” I shake my head, and then stand up, walking over to the other side of the room, pretending to busy myself with a stack of paperwork.  Mary watches me from where she’s sitting, but she doesn’t move.

“Why not?” She asks, honestly confused and concerned.

“Because Tom and I aren’t dating. We have an arrangement. That’s it. That’s all. It’s simple.” I shuffle through some papers, and then busy myself arranging them in alphabetical order, though it’s completely unnecessary.

“What are you doing?” Mary asks softly.

“What? Mary? What?!” I nearly explode, throwing my hands up but then I go back to frantically rearranging the papers.  “It’s okay, really! Believe me! I know it’s not necessarily something a lot of people do, but it works for us. It’s just sex. That’s all—“

“No, I meant…what are you doing with those papers?” Mary raises an eyebrow at me, and I groan, slumping forward slightly.

“Putting them in alphabetical order.”

“I’d say you need to get laid, but apparently that’s not it.” Mary jokes, and I look at her with narrowed eyes, shooting her a glance that I hope will kill her, or at least…give her terrible heartburn for an hour or two.

“No, it’s not.” I say with a quick laugh.  Mary grins.

“I know what you need.  You need to go on a date. A real date.  None of this newfangled ‘hooking up’.  I know just the guy, too.  I’ll set you up.” Mary has a look in her eye, and I immediately know it’s a terrible idea.  I shake my head.

“No. No, please.”

“Why not? When’s the last time you went out with someone?” She asks.  I hesitate and then roll my eyes.

“Richard.” I bite out.  She raises an eyebrow, silently judging me.

“A year and a half.  More than that.” She does not sound amused.

“I’ve been busy.” I say, defeated. 

“Come on.  I’ll set you up.  You need a change of pace.  Let me do this, Gracie.  Give it a chance.” Mary looks at me, her head tilted to the side.  I sigh, pressing a finger to the bridge of my nose.

“I don’t need to date.”

“Why? Everyone needs to date!” She exclaims excitedly.  I can’t help but laugh, but then I push it quickly away.  I don’t want to encourage her.

“Because! Dating is…just…” I take a frustrated breath.

“Gracie, Richard was a bastard.  Don’t let him ruin it for you.  Love is out there for you.” Mary says gently.  I press my lips together and take a deep breath.

“It’s complicate, Mary.”

“Well, then, uncomplicated it.” She offers.  I wait, watching her, and she waits as well.  Waits for me.  I pull my shoulders up to my ears for a second and then sigh loudly. Alright.

“I…think I miss the idea of Richard.  More than I actually miss him.  I will never forget his lies. That betrayal is hard to let go of.  But I think I’ve been…lonely for a long time.  Even when I was with him.  So, it’s not much different being single.  Either way, I’m alone.  It doesn’t bother me, Mary.  I like it even.  It’s always been this way.” This sort of spills from me, and when I look at Mary, her eyes are red rimmed.  I sigh, shaking my head.

“Don’t go all soft on me, lady.” I warn gently.  “With Richard, I thought I had…everything. And it turned out I had nothing.  Less than nothing, because I was so blind to it.  Blind to him.  With Tom, I know what I have.  Sex. Friendship.  I know it sounds crazy. I know it doesn’t make sense to most people, but it makes sense to me.  Tom’s offering me one thing, and I’m offering him the same thing in return.  There’s no gray area. It’s black and white.  Richard was all gray area.  I need black and white right now.”

“Oh but, darling, what if you could have full color?” She asks softly.  I pause, and then swallow.  Her words hang fuzzy in the air between us, and I feel the weight of them on my chest. 

“I don’t know if that’s…an option for me.” I say simply. 

“I’m pretty sure that was, honestly, the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” She wipes an eye hastily and then shoots me an annoyed look.  “And jesus, I thought I was sad.  Then you showed up, you little savior, you.” She says with a short laugh.  I smile, and then roll my shoulders.

“I do what I can.” I breathe.

“Right, well, I’m setting you up with someone.  Enough with this alone thing.  Enough.” Mary looks at me with determination, and I know I’ve just lost a tiny war.