Sand In My Shoes by purplewitch156

Chapter 2

If this were a sitcom, an audience would have burst into laughter at Harry's owl-like stare.

"Wow," he laughed awkwardly, "it hasn't even been twenty-four hours. Do you usually shag strangers?"

"No."

Was Harry blushing or was the pink hue of his skin merely due to the multicolored lights wound around the deck's railing?

His eyes didn't quite meet Tom's as he asked, "Your place or mine?"

Tom's heart quickened. "Yours."

Harry licked his lips and tapped his fingers against the rail, still not quite looking at him.

"Okay. Just one rule. No smoking."

Harry lived walking distance from the diner. Tom enjoyed his smoke along the way and only put it out when they reached their destination and Harry gave him a pointed look. The second story flat was small and cluttered. The moment Harry clicked on the lights he set into swift action, picking up dirty dishes and stray pieces of clothing.

"Sorry. Wasn't expecting to get laid tonight."

Tom made no comment on the disarray. As Harry darted about the room, snatching up used cereal bowls and shirts, Tom stepped up to a large bulletin board that was entirely covered in drawings. Every last one was black and white save for a few with red ink. They were nothing like the cheerful octopus. As Tom studied each in turn, he couldn't help but feel that there was something familiar about them, but he couldn't place it. They exuded a great bleakness.

"Are you depressed?"

Harry paused in moving a pizza box off his dresser. "Erm — no, why?"

Tom pointed at the drawings and Harry laughed.

"You think only depressed people can draw dark stuff?"

"I thought comic books were supposed to be fun."

Harry snorted. "You don't know anything about graphic novels, do you?"

"Nothing whatsoever."

Harry put the empty pizza box back down on his dresser.

"They're no different from any other entertainment. They can be serious, funny, dark, easy-going ... you name it."

Tom studied Harry, dressed in his loose-fitting shorts and threadbare T-shirt. "You don't seem the type for doom and gloom."

"Shows what you know."

Tom rolled his eyes. He let the topic drop.

"Just so we're clear," he said businesslike, "this is just sex. No strings attached."

"What happens in Paradise, stays in Paradise?"

"Exactly."

Harry laughed. It was astonishing how easily and how often he did. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a tanned chest and a shark tooth necklace. Tom left the sketches, joining him in the center of the tiny room. His hand cupped the back of Harry's head, fingers tangling in the messy locks, and drew Harry's mouth to his.

Tom hadn't intended on staying the night, but he woke next morning in Harry's bed, sunlight streaming upon the tangled sheets. He heard Harry moving about in the small, side kitchen, talking on the phone. As Tom sat up, yawning, Harry popped his head into the bedroom and lifted a coffee pot, sloshing with heavenly black liquid, the phone pressed against one ear. Tom nodded and Harry vanished back inside the kitchen.