the spark we lost

30

A/N- song suggestion: fine line by harry styles.

Tom didn't try to kiss me again. Not the next time we hung out, not the time after that, not the time after that either. And then it was Halloween.

"Want to come with me to a Halloween party this weekend?" he asked, when he called me a few days after our last date. " I promise it'll be fun."

And that was the thing: with Tom it was always fun. Being with him was easy. It was relaxed— and relaxing. It was comfortable. And I found that I was looking forward more and more to seeing him. And thinking less and less about you. Which was good, because I hadn't heard from you again— or tried to contact you myself. I felt saner when I wasn't waiting for a message from you. You weren't out of my life completely, though. Once in a while I'd see your published photographs in the New York Times- your name would jump out at me as I rode on the subway. Every time it happened, my heart raced and felt vaguely ill and off for the rest of the day. But I never felt that way around Tom.

"Halloween party? I asked. "Okay , sounds good. Do we need costumes?"

"Do we need costumes, she asks!" he said, as if he were telling someone else about our conversation, even though he lived alone. We both did. "We absolutely need costumes," he said. "I was thinking... Prisoner of Azkaban? We could do Harry and Hermione? Or maybe I could be Spider-Man and you could be MJ?"

I couldn't help but think, in that brief moment, that those were two costumes you would never, in your whole life, ever suggest. The year before you and I had gone as a plug and a socket, remember? That was more of your staple. More both of our styles, actually.

"So you're going for pop culture?" I asked Tom.

"Okay, can I confess something?" he said.

My heart lurched. "Okay..." I answered, really having no idea what's coming next. Already regretting that I hadn't kissed him, that I hadn't tried harder.

"I was drawing a blank with Halloween costumes, so I Googled "popular Halloween costumes." If you have any more original ideas, I'm all ears. Well actually, I'm not. I'm eyes and a nose and a mouth and... well.. other body parts too."

I laughed, so incredibly relived. "Other body parts? I asked, realizing for the first time that I really wanted to flirt with him. That I was enjoying it. "Really?"

He said silent on the other end of the line. I could imagine his face, eyes opening wider, cheeks turning pink. " I didn't mean ...." he said.

"How about a Freudian slip?" I asked. "For Halloween? I can wear a slip with the word Freudian on it. And you can be Dr, Freud himself. I'll find you a cigar."

He laughed. " I like it!" he said. "Better than Spider-Man and MJ for sure."

"What time's the party?" I asked.

"Starts at nine," he said," At Gavin and Arjit's place. Do you remember Arjit from Hamptons?"

"I don't think I do."

"Well, you'll meet them both at the party, then. How about I come over at eight with pizza? I have no idea what those guys think is appropriate party food, so we should be fortified before we leave."

"Sounds good to me. "I think I have a slip somewhere around here. And i'll look for some fabric markers tomorrow."

"And my cigar?" Tom said." Actually, I think I'll bring my own cigar."

"Oh, will you?" I asked.

I could tell I'd flustered him again." Um..." he said.
"Just teasing. I'll see you Saturday night."

~

Saturday night came and Tom arrived at my apartment wearing a white beard, fake glasses, a gray three-piece suit, and a sedately striped tie. He was carrying a pizza box in one hand and a cigar in the other.

"Do I look Freud-ish?" he asked.

"Remarkably so," I answered. "Do I look like a Freudian slip?"

My hair was down and loose, and I was wearing a knee- length white lacy slip with the word Freudian written on it in red fabric marker. I hadn't been quite sure which shoes were appropriate, so I went with silver ballet flats. I matched my lipstick to the fabric marker, so it was bright red.

Tom smiled behind his fake beard. "You do," he said. "You absolutely do."

Something changed between us palpably that night. Instead of doing his goofy gentlemanly arm crook, he held my hand as we walked to his friends apartment. We were quickly roped into a game of clip cup and another and another, which left him tipsy and me on one level past that.

Wherever he was at the party, his eyes coming back to me, as if he was making sure I was okay, making sure I was still there. I remembered going to parties with you, my eyes roaming the room for you the way Tom's  eyes were for me. It was nice, the change in roles.

When the party started winding down, Tom drifted back toward me. I was chatting with some other girlfriends about I have no idea what. "I'm getting a little tired," he said.

I turned toward him. " Me too. Shall we?"

He nodded." I'll grab our coats and meet you by the door." I said goodbye to the girlfriends and headed to where Tom was talking with Gavin. He'd been pointed out to me earlier, but we hadn't met yet.

"This is Lana," Tom said, when I got closer.

"So you're the paper doll," Gavin said.

"I'm the what?" I asked.

"I saw Tom give Gavin a look. "You're beautiful," he said quickly. "Just like a doll."

"Thanks," I said smiling.

I knew there was something I was missing, but it didn't matter. That night, as we left the Halloween party, I felt adored. And happy. And completely thrilled that Tom took my hand as we walked out into the crisp fall night together.

"Walk you come?" he asked.

"Sure," I answered. My gaze lingered on his lips, where they peeked out of his Freud beard. If he'd tried to kiss me three weeks before then, I would've freaked. Maybe never seen him again. But at that point, I wanted it. I wanted him. He wasn't you, he'd never be you, but he was sweet and kind and funny and smart and endearing. And there was something wonderful about that.

We got to my door, and Tom stopped. I stopped. We faced each other. He'd taken off his fake beard and my eyes went to his lips again.

"Lana," he said. " I don't want to go too fast, but I want to..."

"Kiss me," I said.

His eyebrows popped.

"You want to kiss me," I repeated. "It's okay. Kiss me."

Tom leaned in, and our lips met, soft and warm in the night air. Our bodies pressed together. I smelled that Kenneth Cole Reaction cologne that half the men at work seemed to have started wearing that year.

He smelled so different than you did. He tasted different and felt different. I blinked tears away from the corners of my eyes.

Then our lips separated and Tom looked at me and smiled.

I wondered if I should invite him inside, off that was the right thing to do. I didn't really want to, but didn't want to send him a message that I wasn't interested. Before I could puzzle through it, Tom said, "I should go... but tonight was a lot of fun. Are you free on Thursday?"

I smiled."I am."

Tom leaned in and kissed me once more. "I'll call you," he said, as he walked away and I headed inside.

For the first time since you left, I dreamed about someone else.