A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for all your comments and responses to this story so far. I absolutely love every reaction, and comment. And it really motivates me to keep going. Thank you!!

I have a quick question. I'm just curious. I was wondering what the age range of people reading this story is? If you don't mind commenting here and letting me know either how old you are, or a general age range, I'd love that! I asked in another story where everyone lived, and it was so cool to see the variation of places. Anyway, thanks for letting me know, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!! Have a happy weekend!

-Germs

"You have to go to the coda." Rosie said patiently, watching as her student scanned the music with watchful eyes. "You're doing really well with this piece, Melissa. It's a tough one. I was excited when you said you wanted to try it."

"I didn't realize it would be so hard!" Melissa sighed, scrunching her shoulders as she did.

"But you're doing really well! Don't give up. If you keep practicing, it'll just click, and then the harder parts won't seem so tough anymore." Rosie prompted, giving Melissa a quick nudge.

"Thanks, Miss Rosie. Are you going to be at rehearsal on Monday?" Melissa asked, as she began to gather her things. She was one of the kids from Stage Right, who Rosie had known since she was just a girl. Now, Melissa was going into tenth grade at the start of the new school year, and she was becoming a really talented musician.

"Yes. We're going to start doing run throughs." Rosie said, standing up from her chair and escorting Melissa toward the door. Rosie's piano was tucked in the corner of her family room. She had her piano bench, and her own little chair sitting next to it. It was just enough space for lessons.

"Wasn't Saturday exciting? I got to talk about acting with Laura Forsyth! She was so pretty and so nice." Melissa grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. The whole event Saturday had been a huge success with the kids. They had loved every minute of it, and Rosie hadn't heard anyone say one negative thing about the stars.

"It was great. Everyone was so nice!" Rosie smiled.

"And I thought I'd be the most excited about Dylan, but I liked Tom better. Did you get to meet Tom, Miss Rosie? He was the nicest person I've ever met. He was joking around with us, and he was telling all these great stories." Melissa sighed heavily, and Rosie laughed softly, practically having to dodge the hearts radiating from Melissa's eyes.

"I didn't really get to go to any of the sessions, but I heard how nice everyone was." She nodded, as Melissa grabbed the door handle.

"I hope they come back. Tom said he'd love to come back." She giggled then, as she turned and headed outside. Rosie nodded, standing at the thresh hold of her front door. Melissa's dad had just pulled up in front of the house. He waved at Rosie, and she waved back, though her mind was on what Melissa had said.

"They're probably really busy with filming, but it would be cool if they could come back." Rosie said, though she had to say it through gritted teeth. It was a great event for the kids, but she wasn't so keen to repeat it, even if it were because of purely selfish reasons.

"Have a good evening, Mel. I'll see you Monday." Rosie nodded at her student, who grinned and waved goodbye before sprinting toward her father's car.

It had been nearly a week since the disastrous meeting. And Rosie had made good on her promise.

She hadn't bumped into Tom at all. It had taken a bit of finesse, but she'd managed. It was easy in the morning. When breakfast was being served to all the guests, she was always busy cooking. Even after compliments had been sent to her from the dining room, she hadn't come out to greet them like she normally would have. She felt a bit rude for doing it, but she did have a legitimate excuse. She was busy! Cooking for a full house was hard!

When she went to clean the upstairs rooms, she didn't even bother with Tom's room. Pam took care of his room, along with most of the others. Rosie just needed to straighten up three rooms, which were conveniently farthest away from Tom's. Plus, the crew left relatively early in the morning to shoot, which made it easy to know when she was safe to clean.

They would only be in town for one more week. Seven more days and then Rosie could breathe freely again.

Walking back into her house, Rosie thought about her Friday night that loomed ahead of her. She didn't have plans. Kris was on a date with a graphic designer who lived in the city. She was sure to text Rosie at least once while out. And Justine was doing what she normally did every night of the week. Be covered by children, while trying to hold onto her last remaining scraps of sanity.

Rosie's night was pretty uneventful as it was. She actually felt a twinge of jealousy of her friends. Kris was an extrovert. She had no problem chatting with strangers, and going on dates with people she hardly knew. And though Justine was always groaning about being a human baby machine, Rosie knew she loved her family. She knew that she loved her girls and Quincy, and wouldn't have it any other way. And Quincy absolutely doted on her.

Rosie looked around her silent house. She didn't have a boyfriend and definitely didn't have a husband. She didn't have two adorable, milk and candy covered daughters. She didn't have a hot date with a graphic designer. She had Shadow, who was currently licking his butt on the family room floor. And a box of wine. And a whole queue of Netflix she wanted to catch up with.

Pushing her somewhat depressing thoughts from her head, Rosie tried to focus on the positive. She had a whole night to herself. She could clean. She could do her laundry. She could take a bubble bath with one of those flower bath bombs Justine had given her. She had so many options! They weren't boring options! They weren't lonely options! They were wonderful, awesome, exciting, fantastic....

Ok, they were boring. And lonely.

Rosie sighed and grabbed her laundry basket from her rooming, trudging toward the basement to throw a load into the machine.

Just as she was headed down the stairs, she heard her phone buzzing in the family room. Her heart leapt, even though she wasn't waiting for a call from anyone. Maybe Kris needed her to bail her out of a bad date. She wouldn't mind driving into the city to save her friend. Or fake crying on a phone call so that Kris had a reason to leave. Wouldn't be the first time she'd done it. Setting down her basket, she bounded across her house, grabbing the phone on what must have been the last ring. It was a number she didn't recognize.

"Hello?" She said breathlessly.

"Rosie! Hi!"

Rosie frowned, and pulled the phone away from her face. She stared at the number on the screen, trying to tell herself she wasn't hearing things.

"Aaron." She whispered as she put the phone back to hear, not quite believing it was him.

"Hi, am I calling at a bad time?" He asked. Definitely his voice. She chewed her lip. She had deleted him from her phone months ago, after a wine-y night with Justine and Kris. It had been a good idea at the time, but now, she wished she'd kept it so she could have screened her calls. Now she was stuck on the phone with the one man in the world she didn't want to talk to on her lonely Friday night.

"No, no. Just doing laundry!" She said, her voice coming out a bit too chipper. She groaned internally, rolling her eyes at herself. Why couldn't she be good at lying? She could have said she was on a date. Or at a crazy party. Or literally doing anything else that was interesting and fun and not depressing. Instead, she blurts out the truth.

"Oh, nice." Aaron replied, his tone neutral and mild. He always was an even tempered person. He was the sort of person who never really got worked up about anything. Which made him very persuasive. And trustworthy in a deceiving way.

"So...what's up?" Rosie sunk onto the sofa, her heart beating faster than she cared to admit. She hadn't talked to Aaron in months. Since they broke up, really. She wasn't the sort to call and cling onto an ex, no matter how heart broken she felt. And after two years with Aaron, she had been pretty heartbroken.

"Well. I just...first, it's nice to hear your voice, Rosie. It's been too long." Aaron said, his voice coming across as friendly and warm. Rosie swallowed.

"That's usually what happens when you break up with someone." She managed, then regretted it immediately. She didn't like throwing barbs. There was no point. He knew how much he had hurt her. Practically the whole relationship had felt like one huge misunderstanding. Rosie had gotten in way over her head. But then again, Aaron had seen her drowning and hadn't lifted a finger to help her, or put her out of her misery.

"You're right. I deserve that." Aaron said after a beat. Rosie chewed on her lip, refusing to be the next one to speak. She didn't want to accidentally apologize for something she'd had no say in. He'd been in charge the whole relationship. Aaron was the one who had decided when they would go out. Where they could go. He was the one who had made her promise to keep their relationship a secret. For two whole years. Rosie had thought that maybe one day he'd change his mind. One day, he'd get serious and get over his commitment phobias. She felt foolish now, for not seeing the forest for the trees.

"I called for a reason though. Not just to rehash the past." He said after a moment of awkward silence. Rosie had to admit she was curious. She sat up slightly, holding her breath.

"Ok."

"Well, I don't know if you remember but before we broke up, you had told me you'd play the hospital's anniversary gala. Just the opening ceremony. I was hoping you'd still do it. It's next month. It would mean a lot if you did. And at this point, I don't know if I could book another musician on such short notice." Aaron asked confidently. Rosie slumped back onto the couch, putting a hand to her lips.

Of course. He was calling to ask her for a favor. She took a few silent breaths and looked to the side, her vision blurring slightly.

"Rosie? You there?" He said, sounding unsure of himself for the first time since she'd regrettably picked up the phone.

"Yeah. Sure, Aaron. I can still play the party. Can you just email me the music for it? And let me know when it is." She said quickly, feeling completely detached from the conversation. She was upset with herself, for ever letting him have so much control over her. And sad that she felt he still had some sort of hold.

It was hard to just let go of someone that she had cared about, perhaps even loved, for so long. Someone she had patiently waited for to recognize her. It hadn't happened. It still wasn't happening.

"Oh! That's terrific. Thanks, Rose. You always were someone I could count on." Aaron sounded elated. Rosie scoffed softly, rolling her eyes.

"Yup."

"Alright, I'll email you the details. Same email?" He asked, sounded far too chipper. Fake. Rosie swallowed hard, and made a noise of affirmation.

Aaron rattled on for a few more minutes. He talked about the hospital. His job. How busy he was. How crazy things were. He didn't ask a thing about her. About how she was doing. About what she was up to.

Rosie managed to get off the phone with him after a few more minutes of obnoxious small talk.

Then she walked numbly over to her iPod, which was hooked into speakers set throughout the house, and blasted "Since U Been Gone" by Kelly Clarkson. She put it on repeat, and scream sang her way through the house as she did her laundry, forgetting that Aaron even existed. Or at least, doing a pretty damn good job of pretending so.

****

A few hours later, break up angst finally worked out of her systems through the age old solution of cleaning the entire house and obnoxiously singing and dancing her way through all the loudest anti-relationship songs, Rosie sat down on the edge of her bed, feeling tired but accomplished.

Aaron could get under her skin, but she never let him stay there. She knew she deserved better. It didn't mean that it didn't still hurt occasionally though.

Rosie pulled the towel off her damp hair, having just had a nice soak and then a quick shower to wash her hair. She felt okay, even though she was annoyed she'd agreed to help him. Kris always said she had "doormat" written all over her forehead. Justine tended to agree. Rosie usually told them to shut up when they were right.

Rosie didn't quite see it that way, but she knew she needed to put her foot down more. She didn't like disappointing people, even if they had disappointed her. Perhaps it was just a deep seated desire to be liked. She wasn't sure, but she knew that Aaron had a lot to do with that. And she was still struggling to get past it. Obviously.

Slipping into yoga pants and a worn tshirt, Rosie swept her hair into a quick braid and made her way into the kitchen. In her cleaning frenzy, and her attempts to sweep Aaron from her mind, she'd completely forgotten to eat dinner. It seemed totally unnecessary to make a huge meal for just her, and so even though she knew she had chicken and veggies in the fridge, she reached into the cabinet for cereal. She pulled her favorite oversized bowl out of the cabinet, eyeing the overflowing trash bag on the floor as she did. Sighing, she changed the bin, and tied up the bag, letting herself out her side kitchen door. It was trash night, so she might as well pull the big bins to the curb.

Groaning as she lugged the big bins up her driveway, she silently wondered if there was ever a day she could delegate this terrible chore to someone else. She hated taking the trash out, and if she had a reliable man in her life, she would gladly order him to take over this task. Gender roles be damned!

Stopping at the top of her sloped driveway, Rosie shoved the bin to the curb with a grunt and then sighed, looking up at the sky. It was late-- after nine, and it seemed like all the stars were out that night. It was a surprisingly mild night too, having cooled off from the warm day earlier. She took a deep breath, enjoying the quiet moment.

Her moment was a short one though, as she heard the steady pounding of footsteps coming up on her quickly. She looked around, her heart skipping a beat. She lived in a relatively safe, quiet, family friendly neighborhood. Well, all of Cedarville was safe, quiet and family friendly. Hearing someone running toward her late at night, while she was gazing absentmindedly up at the stars, was a bit alarming.

It was a man, she could see that easily. He was far enough away, and it was dark enough, that she could only really make out his shape. Tall. Fit. Wearing black shorts, and a dark tshirt. Perfect for mugging someone. She took a step back, away from the curb as he neared, her heart picking up, something in her telling her she should probably scurry back inside and not just stand there like a lump. Stranger danger, and all.

But then. As he came closer, realization washed over her.

It wasn't a stranger. Well, not really.

Oh shit.

It was Tom. Tom Tom. The Tom.

Rosie took another step back, letting out a tiny squeak as he made his way closer. Oh, it was definitely him. He was obviously out for a night run. In the dim street lamp light, she could see the slightly messy, sweatiness of his hair. She could hear his steady, quickened breaths.

Go inside! Go inside! Her brain screamed at her. But her feet didn't seem to want to move. In fact, she just stood there, frozen. Like some sort of Trash Statue.

He ran by her quickly, as he was moving at a fast pace, but they locked eyes, even if just for a moment.

Phew! He didn't recognize me. She blinked, and then finally felt her barefeet become unglued from the concrete.

It only took her a half second then, to realize, the sound of the footsteps had stopped. She glanced over her shoulder, and felt her heart jump to her throat.

He had stopped. He wasn't running. He wasn't getting farther and farther away, looking smaller and smaller. No. In fact, oh God, he was doing the exact opposite! He was getting closer. Closer. Bigger. Bigger.

Shit!

"Miss Wesley?" He was standing right in front of her then, pulling earbuds out of his ears. Rosie blinked, and then let out a tiny laugh. She heard the tinny sound of the music from his earbuds, and it sounded strange in the otherwise quiet night.

"Hi. Um, Rosie!" She corrected him, with a laugh. "Please!"

Oh god. She could practically smell the sweat on his skin. And it wasn't a bad thing. He was still breathing a bit heavy, but nothing like whenever she went on her "yearly" run. Where she'd wheeze and grunt and then give up after a quarter mile. His breath was steady, strong, and yet still easy.

"Yes. Rosie." He smiled then, almost apologetically. Why was his voice like that? Perfectly deep and with that infuriatingly appealing accent. She would gladly listen to him read a phone book. Did they even make phone books anymore? Whatever. She wanted to hear him read one. Rosie was glad it was dark, because she was pretty sure she was turning pink.

"Out for a run?" She asked, and then the little invisible Rosie on her shoulder slapped her hard on the temple. Duh.

"Yeah, it's a good night for it. And it helps me clear my mind." He said. He smiled again, and Rosie couldn't help but return the grin. It was infectious.

"You scared me at first." She said with a soft laugh, nodding toward where he'd come from. He chuckled.

"I seem to have that effect on you." He said. Rosie smiled.

"I just wasn't expecting to see a movie star running down my street." She shrugged and tried to stand as normal as she could, but she suddenly found herself forgetting what she was supposed to do with her arms, and her hands. Just let them hang there? Cross them over her chest? Oh god, she wasn't even wearing a bra! And she was wearing the yoga pants with the huge hole by the knee.

Tom laughed, somewhat nervously then, and shrugged.

"I wasn't expecting to see you standing on the curb." He replied. Rosie laughed and rocked back on her heels.

"You know. Just a crazy Friday night around here. Taking out the trash. Staring at the stars." She sighed softly and then looked at Tom. He was looking at her, rather intently, a small smile lingering at the corners of his mouth.

It should be illegal for someone to be so handsome. Especially after they've apparently been exercising. Rosie blinked and took a deep breath.

"Well, it was nice bumping into you." She said, figuring she should stop the conversation while she was ahead. She hadn't flashed him yet. Or done something else similarly embarrassing. She should really run back into the safety of her house and call the night a success.

"You too, Rosie." Tom nodded, as Rosie watched him fiddle with his earbuds for a moment. "Before I let you go, do you happen to know where I could get a late dinner? We wrapped early, and I took a quick nap. When I woke up, I was too late to eat with the crew, and then I decided to go for a run. Now I'm starving. I'm not picky." He said with a shrug. Rosie frowned, remembering it was nearly 9:30.

"Oh! Well...it's late, I doubt anything will be open except Chip's at the end of Main. But he's mostly just snacks, medicine, gas..." She grimaced, trying to think of any places that could possibly be open. Tom frowned.

"Right, well, I probably should have thought ahead." He said with a soft laugh.

"Yeah, small towns aren't great for those late dinners. A late night around here is 8:30." She apologized, shaking her head. Tom laughed and nodded.

"I'm sure I can find something. Thanks, Rosie." He nodded, putting a quick hand to his forehead. He looked as if he was about to run off, back out into the night, and Rosie suddenly didn't want him to go. So, without thinking, she took a step forward.

"I was about to eat dinner, would you like to join me?" The question sounded stupid as soon as Rosie had said it. What was she thinking? Inviting Tom Hiddleston over for dinner? She'd only met him twice! And neither had been stellar, standout memories. Surely he didn't want to have dinner with a stranger. A clearly unhinged one, at that.

She blushed, and was again glad it was dark out so Tom couldn't see her face. But she could see his. The light from the house bounced off his handsome face, and she saw one eyebrow go up in surprise. She heard the long pause of uncertainty. Should have quit while she was ahead...

"Well, I'm all sweaty from my run--"

"Oh, right. Of course. I'm sorry. That was...really silly." She shook her head quickly, taking a few steps away. Her instinct said 'Run! Run away from this embarrassment, you silly creature!' Rosie Wesley, 3 for 3 in the embarrassing encounters with Tom department.

Tom held up a hand then, tilting his head.

"But perhaps, if it's not too late, I could run back to the inn and shower and change. And come back?" He said with a soft voice, and a smile edging at the corner of his mouth.

Rosie blinked, her breath catching. Had she heard right?

"Oh. Okay." She said dumbly. "It's not too late." She blinked again, shocked. Had he just agreed to dinner with her? Really? Her heart hammered in her chest.

"Thirty minutes?" He asked, this time smiling full on. He chuckled softly, and she knew it was because of her shocked expression. She knew he knew. He knew how terrible she felt about the flashing incident. And he knew how awkward she felt, how badly she felt, knowing that she just kept making a fool of herself. And he was offering her the olive branch. He was telling her that there were no hard feelings, and that perhaps, it wasn't as bad as she made it out to be in her head. Rosie swallowed.

"Yes. That's perfect." She nodded. "Do you know where I live?" Her next question, which she had no excuse for except that her head was definitely screwed on wrong, she was living in an alternative universe, and Tom Hiddleston had just agreed to come into her home to have dinner with her.

"Yes. I'm guessing it's the house right behind you?" Tom said gently, nodding to her house, and Rosie laughed.

"Sorry. Yes. I'm just a bit..." She trailed off, waving her hands and shrugging helplessly. His laugh was soft and warm, and he looked down, humbly.

"I'll be back soon, ok, Rosie?" His voice was confident and genuine, and Rosie felt her stomach clench with happiness.

"Ok. I'll see you soon, Tom." She smiled.

****

Rosie waited until Tom was out of sight before running at full speed back into her house. Thank god she'd just cleaned. Otherwise, she'd be in crisis mode. Still, she ran around her small house like a crazed chicken with it's head cut off. She grabbed the bras hanging in the bathroom, and threw them haphazardly into her closet. She threw her laundry basket into the basement, closing the door behind her. She shoved her beloved cereal box back into the cabinet, and then pulled out the chicken and veggies. She would not feed Tom Hiddleston cereal for dinner. She would feed him a normal, adult dinner. Protein. Vegetables. Starch. She could do this. And she'd do it without looking like a total idiot. I mean, technically, she made him breakfast every morning. This was like breakfast except...he'd be in her house. And he'd be looking at her. And probably talking to her too. Oh god. What had she done?!

Running into her bedroom, Rosie stripped out of her bum clothes and yanked on skinny jeans and a nice top. Not too nice. Still casual. The "I'm not trying at all but look! I look nice now!" sort of top. She pulled her hair from her braid, happy to find that her hair was loose and wavy, and perhaps she wasn't a total disaster. Then, she ran into the bathroom, nearly tripping over her discarded yoga pants, and did her best to slap on some mascara and lipgloss.

She knew it had been 30 minutes because her phone said it was nearly ten, but the time had flown by. Before she knew it, he was there. A quick knock at the door, and Rosie was sure she was going to throw up.

Justine and Kris were not going to believe this. She could hear their voices in her head already. Justine would probably scream, and make a scene. Kris would probably laugh, shake her head and tell her to "wrap it up." OH god. WRAP WHAT UP?! Rosie shook her head. She wasn't going to have SEX with Tom. She was just going to feed him! Shut up, Kris! Shut up, Justine!

Rosie blushed and told the Justine and Kris voices in her head to go away.

She walked over to her door, her heart beating a thousand miles a minute, and opened it.

Tom was freshly showered. His hair was still damp. He smelled amazing. Even standing a foot away, she could tell he smelled wonderful. He was wearing dark jeans and a plain white tshirt, and oh goodness. Rosie was pretty sure it was illegal to look that good. If she were the swooning sort, then she was pretty sure this was where she was supposed to swoon. She pulled her gaze back up to his eyes, and Tom broke into a wide, happy grin.

"Hi. Thank you for having me." He said, and then raised up a bottle of wine that'd he'd brought.

"Hi! Come in!" She smiled, and held the door open, while taking the bottle from Tom.

"Thank you. You didn't have to bring this!" She looked over the bottle, though she really didn't know anything about wine. Her wine came in a box. It had a spigot attached to it.

"Well, technically, I stole it from the Inn. I'll replace it in the morning with a new bottle." He laughed, and Rosie grinned.

"You know, I thought this looked familiar." She teased.

Rosie followed Tom into the family room, and they both paused for a second, looking at each other. It was weird. It really was. They didn't know each other. They'd barely spoken a handful of sentences to each other, and most of those sentences had been awkward or apologies. Rosie wasn't quite sure how it had gotten to this point. Tom standing in her family room, looking insanely handsome, and also somewhat lost.

"Um. Can I give you the tour?" She offered, and he grinned and pressed his hands together.

"Yes. Please." He said.

"Maybe we should get drinks first?" She raised up the wine, and Tom's eyes lit up.

****

A few minutes later, wine glasses in hand, Rosie showed Tom around her house. She was expecting it to be a pretty quick tour but she found he was really attentive. He asked questions, and seemed genuinely interested in her home.

Oh god. Tom Hiddleston is going to rob me. She blinked and then took a long drink from her glass. More wine. She needed more wine.

They walked around the family room, taking their time as they did. Rosie knew she should probably start on dinner, but Tom seemed much more interested in chatting about her things. He looked at all her picture frames, asking questions about the people in the photos. He complimented her framed prints, some of the artists he was familiar with. He ran his long, dexterous fingers over the keys of her piano, even plunking out a quick tune, before shaking his head bashfully when she urged him to "Play something!".

"I'd rather hear you." He replied, and Rosie could almost swear he was blushing. She shook her head at him, and then led him through her small kitchen, and then back out into the main room.

"How long have you been a musician?" He asked, seemingly genuinely interested. Rosie beamed.

"Since I could walk, I feel like." She laughed. "My parents were musicians too. It just runs in our blood." She smiled, lost in her own thoughts for a second. She could practically hear her mother singing, feel the beat of her father banging on the side of a guitar as he played.

"I play some guitar, and a little piano. But it's just fooling around, really." He replied, his eyes on her face, as if reading her mind. Rosie nodded.

"All you need is an interest in it. And some time to practice. You're obviously an artist." She smiled, and Tom looked pleased when she said it.

"Your house is wonderful, Rosie. It says a lot about you." He said, as they walked from the family room down the hallway toward the bedrooms. She wasn't sure how it would feel to have him in her bedroom. She almost wanted to skip over that part of the house. It felt too personal, like too much.

"You think so?" She smiled, looking over her shoulder at him. Tom nodded.

"Definitely. I mean, I can tell you have a lot of friends. A lot of people that care about you. All the music and art on the walls. All the bright colors. And it's so warm and inviting. You care about making people comfortable." He said, and Rosie stopped in the hallway, and turned.

"I do. You're right." She swallowed. Tom stopped walking too, and waited.

"Here's the thing though." She felt her heart skip along in her chest. The wine was making her feel a bit fearless, and it was also helping open up the conversation.

"Hm?" Tom's sky blue eyes searched hers, and Rosie pushed past her nerves.

"I can't seem to...get comfortable around you. Not that I expect to, being that I've only met you a handful of times. But...normally, I can get to know people pretty easily. And then I can sort of...feel at ease around them quickly. With you though, I just can't seem to do that. You make me really...nervous and...sort of crazy." She should have laughed, should have lightened the moment, but she didn't. She was really intrigued by him, and couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She simply looked up at him, her voice low, her eyes on him. She leaned against the hallway wall, tilting her head slightly as she searched his face. Her head felt slightly fuzzy from the wine, but she didn't care.

Tom licked his lips, his eyes burning into hers. She kept his gaze, and tilted her head toward his. She could tell he was thinking, trying to decide what to say, and it was fascinating to her. He said so much with his eyes, and yet she still had no idea what he was thinking.

"I'm just a normal guy, Rosie. You don't have to feel nervous around me." Tom shifted then, and Rosie swore he moved closer to her.

"You're not normal. You're the furthest thing from it." She whispered. Tom laughed then, a soft sound that was more breathy than normal.

"I am though. Truly." He pressed his lips together, and leaned against the wall like she was. Rosie looked him over, marveling momentarily at the bulge of his bicep against his soft looking shirt. She fought the urge to press a hand against his chest, to touch him. She had no right to touch him. She was pretty sure she'd scare him away completely. But the urge was there.

"Tell me something then, that will make you normal to me." She challenged, and then tipped her glass to her lips. The red wine was dry, and full, and it made her tongue pucker slightly. Tom narrowed his eyes slightly, searching her face before nodding.

"What do you want to know? I'm an open book." He said lightly. She shrugged.

"Anything." She managed.

They were both quiet for a moment, and when Tom looked at her, Rosie could practically see his mind racing.

"Okay." He took a deep breath then, and Rosie straightened, waiting. "When I got into town, I was so jetlagged that when I walked into that kitchen and I saw you, I thought I was losing my mind." His voice was lower, and Rosie could barely breathe.

"And afterwards, I went to my room and tried to sleep off the jetlag, but I couldn't sleep because all I could do was think about you."

Rosie was pretty sure her heart stopped beating.

"And then later on, Brian came banging on my door because I was late to meet up with everyone. I felt like a complete zombie. I hadn't slept in 24 hours. And it was because of you. So tell me, Rosie, who's the one making people feel crazy?"