𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ❝ 'Cause there we are again on that little town street, you almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me! Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well... ❞
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"You just stood there and let her hit on you!"
Words couldn't explain how upset I was about how Tom was acting the past week, and pretending like he didn't see the waitress hit on him was the final straw. I couldn't even make it through my meal, stomach-churning over the way she eyed him up and down, over the way she adjusted her shirt to show more cleavage after bringing us our coffees, over the way she was clearly trying to get more than a generous tip from us.
Not that there was really an "us" to begin with, he was still bent on hiding our relationship from the world and acting single. And he was damn good at it.
He didn't flirt with her, and he certainly didn't look at her chest now matter how hard she tried, I was thankful for at least that much. But to pretend like you don't know you're a popular heartthrob, that's something else. To pretend like you didn't catch the ways she flirted, or really any other girl for that matter, you'd have to be incredibly blind. And unfortunately, my jealousy was getting the best of me.
We were standing in the kitchen of my house, Tom had been staying here for about two weeks or so and the living situation wasn't too bad at all. We slept in the same bed, woke at the same time, going for walks around the neighbourhood, drank tea at night while watching movies... everything was near perfect. It was just his attitude about certain topics that I couldn't navigate, and he didn't want to open up about it, so there wasn't much I could do.
I'm taking dishes out of the dishwasher from the night before, which was my plan for the day: clean up my house and reset. Tom wanted to go out for french toast and coffee, which was a surprise to me — since he hardly ever wanted to leave the house hand in hand — so I had agreed. But now, I was upset, and I just wanted my space.
He sighed, leaning against the counter I had my back turned to. He was watching me with his hands placed on the counter, veins in his arms on display, shirt a tad too fitted for him — in short, he was incredibly attractive. You know the type. So when we fought, I needed to have my back turned to him in order to focus on clearing my head. Thinking about what I actually wanted to say and saying it. The man was like my Kryptonite. The black watch on his wrist shone with the kitchen light reflecting off it, he licked his lips, exhausted already. "I'm sorry, Jos. I really didn't think she was coming onto me."
"Honestly, Tom, you need to go to the other room or something for a while because I can't focus," I replied, pilling up clean bowls onto the counter.
"Focus, focus on what?" he asked, his fine brows knitting together.
"My life, my day," I shrugged, turning and walking past him, the pile of bowls in my hand as I needed to put them away in the cabinet.
He scoffed. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"
I shrugged, pretending I wasn't paying much attention to the situation. That's how I had been handling just about everything so far; pretending the problem didn't exist or that it would go away soon so I could look the other way. I stacked the bowls into the cabinet and made space for more. "I already said my piece."
"Josefi—"
"God, Tom, you don't listen, do you?" I turned to face him. "I know you don't want the world to know how you're in love with me, but did you ever think for two seconds how I might feel about it?"
I honestly didn't know where that came from. It was evident on Tom's face that he didn't know either. His eyes wide, he stared on. "I'm sorry, Fina, I... I didn't know."
"Didn't know what? That I might have something to say on the matter?"
"That's not what I meant."
"I love you, Tom," those three silly little words found their way out of my mouth. "I love you every second of every day and you can only love me when the curtains are closed." Tears blurred my vision, I wiped away my cheeks and sniffled hard. I could feel him reaching closer to me, his hands outward as if he was going to wrap me in those strong arms of his at the moment I first became undone. Despite wanting to be in them, I stepped backwards. I shook my head. "I can't right now, I need to be alone."
Tom nodded, but he hardly had anything else to say on the matter. I couldn't quite read his face, maybe a touch of guilt? Mostly sadness. Still, he spoke, "Okay, I'll go for a walk."
I was so embarrassed to be in front of him like this. A complete mess. "I think that's best," I said, cheeks stained from hot tears, my long sleeve sweater providing me with the comfort I so desperately needed. He looked at me for merely a moment longer before finally tearing his gaze away from me and taking the copy of my house key I had made him from the hook next to my own set of keys on the wall, and closing my front door hard on his way out. And that's when I really started crying.
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3/29/2022 some sadness and tension :( and to my recent readers, hello!
