Musically Gifted? Well, I Used to Play the Recorder...

Twenty Two: Who Knew Puffy Eyes Could Be a Turn On?

Twenty Two: Who Knew Puffy Eyes Could Be a Turn On?

I feel as if time has frozen. The silence that follows Tom’s unforeseen confession seems to last forever, each second stretching out into an eternity. His smoldering eyes bore into mine, brandishing an emotion that I can’t identify. I’m frozen to the spot, too; my feet may as well have been glued to the floor for all the movement I can manage.

            Tom is in love with me?!

            If I was in less of a state, I might have started hyperventilating. The phrase seems alien in my head, and yet something inside of me is somehow reducing the shock factor of the statement.

            It’s becoming clear now.

            It’s as if someone has just switched on the wipers and cleared the shield of mist and rain from my eyes. Because now I realize: all the time that I spent chasing after Blake, being so preoccupied with plans that would get me noticed, and embarking on the rollercoaster ride that is being a camp counselor... Tom was always there.

            Always making jokes, constantly lifting my mood when anything went wrong.

            And that cute smile...

            How could I have missed it?

            “Are you going to say anything, or just leave me standing here like an idiot?”

            Tom’s voice is tinged with humor, the half-smile on his face clearly showing this, but the seriousness still shines through. I know that however light hearted he may seem, a rejection on my behalf would have a crushing effect.

            “I...”

            My throat is dry, rendering me completely unable to speak. What is wrong with me? The tears have stopped forming in my eyes but now I’m all choked up as a result of my previous crying. Oh God, pull yourself together, Bailey. You’ve only got to manage one sentence. That’s all.

            However, my lack of an answer is taken the wrong way by Tom. His face falls just as the smile is erased from his features.

            “No, I...”

            Oh my God, what is wrong with me? All I’ve got to do is give some sort of positive response. Why am I finding this so hard? Thoughts of Blake have been permanently banished from my mind, now replaced by the realization of how perfect Tom is. And here he is standing in front of me, confessing love for me in a way that could not be more perfect (apart from the fact that I’m tear stained and looking like an absolute state, but I won’t mention that).

            And I’m standing here like an idiot, unable to respond.

            So I do the only thing that springs to mind.

            Ignoring the state of my hair and the puffiness of my eyes, I throw my arms around Tom, pulling him in closer to me so that the distance between us is closed rapidly.

            And then I kiss him.

            I’m not going to be utterly cliché and soppy and say that there was fireworks and sparks were sent through my skin and I felt like I was flying without wings (okay, so maybe I added that last one on myself). All I’ll say in regards to the kiss is that it was... nice.

            You know, if you define ‘nice’ as fireworks, sparks and a great deal of flying without wings.

            In that short space of time that our lips are locked, the realization only becomes stronger. I’m kind of ashamed that I spent all of that time lusting after Blake and his Abercrombie style abs, when the real guy for me was standing right next to him. How could I have overlooked Tom for such a long period of time? For the three weeks I have spent here, Tom has been one of my best friends (aside from Savannah, in the moments she has been able to stop thinking about Danny).