DROWNING | TOM KAULITZ

• CHAPTER ONE •

★・・・・・・★

Tom can't get the song out of his head. It plays on a loop, over and over, until he finds himself humming it out loud.

So addictive, and he doesn't have a clue who sings it.

The music doesn't stop until an alert pops up on his phone.

His famous - quotes app sends daily words of wisdom.

Love is a serious mental disease.
- Plato

Wes swipes it away. Love is the last thing on his mind, especially today. The only thing that matters is time.

His calendar is a wall of meetings, back - to - back - to - back, without a single break. Tom has to leave the office by five thirty, drive home, shower, shave, dress, and get back out of the house by six forty - five. Assuming he wants to be on time for his date. Which he does.

They met at a bar called Liver. Her name is Annabeth, and she had been very specific about that.

Not Anna, and not Beth, she had said. 'I don't answer to either of those. It's Annabeth? He said, 'I got it, and she said, Are you sure? Because you wouldn't believe how many people forget. And right then, he almost blew it, because he wanted to say, Jesus Christ, what kind of idiots do you date?' But he stopped himself. Tom told her, I promise. I got it?

Finally, they were able to move on.

The conversation improved after that. Her name had been the only problem. Otherwise, she was smart and interesting and fun to be with. Pretty, too. Not stunning, not the girl every guy wanted, and that was enge, and Gorgeous its are always - always - high - maintenance, and who the hell has that kind of time.

Annabeth is pretty in the wholesome way, the kind of girl who can dress up and be sexy if she wants but doesn't do it all the time. Dark hair, big eyes, and real curves. Not the implanted or injected kind. Good voice, too. A little husky, not too nasal or annoying.

In other words, he doesn't want to be late for Annabeth.

And it has nothing to do with love.

But work has other ideas.

His three o'clock meeting runs over by fifteen minutes, making him late for the three thirty call. That pushes back his four thirty, which means he is screwed. Almost. An imaginary 'call from a client' comes in handy, because no one gets mad when you have to leave a meeting to talk with someone who pays the bills.

On the way back to his office, Tom stops in the break room to get an energy bar from the vending machine and check the time. Twenty minutes to go. Enough time to send a few emails and stay on schedule.

Bianca waves to him when he gets to his office. Tom holds up his phone and points at it, indicating that he is busy. Still pretending to be on the line with his pretend client.

In truth, if he had explained to her that he really wanted to be on time because he has a date, Bianca probably would have cleared his schedule for him. But it wouldn't be professional to involve her in his life like that. She isn't his personal assistant.

These days, not everyone has their own admin.

The sales department has one who works for everybody, and that's Bianca. She is ridiculously young, he can tell, though he has never asked her age. That would be inappropriate.