Plan, Interrupted // t.h.

5: Another Fucking BMW

Somehow, Tom wasn't too scared off by your manic side and stayed for the remainder of the afternoon.

Saturday came about much sooner than you wished for. Before you knew it, you were waiting in your car for Tom to get in. It turned out that it was actually for the better that you weren't welcome at the ceremony, as it was supposed to start in half an hour, and it was still an hour drive when you started the engine.

Tom lived in what you could only assume was a small apartment above a Chinese restaurant. Thankfully, there had been no need to drive into any small side streets to get to his apartment. Instead, you waited in a designated parking spot, right at an intersection. Waiting, the time went by even slower than slow, it felt like, and you were about to text Tom to hurry up when you heard a knock on the window.

With a shriek, you jumped up, your hand immediately bolting to the automatic door lock. But when you managed to take a breath, you noticed it was Tom that had scared the living shit out of you. It was a sunny day, and though his eyes were covered with a pair of sunglasses, you could tell he was smiling brightly at you with his whole face. He tapped on the window again, and you quickly unlocked it. However, he didn't step in but opened the backdoor to throw the overnight bag on the seat, it falling right next to yours. Only then he finally got in.

"Sorry, my friend was late, and I needed to wait for him because I can't leave Tessa alone."

"Who's Tessa," you asked, looking in your back view mirror for any oncoming traffic, but the view was blocked by a couple of guys carrying an old couch, making you go look over your shoulder as you tried to get your car back onto the road.

"My dog." Tom said, grabbing his phone, "here's a picture."

"She's cute." you glanced for as long as you dared to look while waiting for a green light. Tom showed you his lock screen, a picture of a very adorable grey dog, the breed not entirely known to you.

"Yeah, she's the best," Tom finally took his glasses off and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket. "You don't have any pets, do you?"

"Nope," god, driving in New York was always so fucking stressful. People, bikers and cars coming at you from every possible angle, even the ones it shouldn't be possible to appear from. It was as if you lacked about a hundred pairs of eyes each time you hit the road. "Sorry, I'm just- fuck," you pushed your hand into the claxon as some asshole in a BMW cut you off.

"Maybe I should have driven?" Tom chuckled.

"What? So you can steer us onto the wrong side of the road? No, thank you."

"That is actually really rude of you," he retorted but had not seemed very hurt by your comment. You drove on for a few blocks until a roadblock surfaced, showcasing roadwork ahead. Two lanes had to merge together, assuring you would be arriving late. The cars moved at a snail's speed.

"Would you want any pets? Doesn't it ever get lonely up in your white marble post-modernistic castle?"

"I don't know," you could do nothing but indulge Tom in the conversation as you waited for progress in the traffic, "My mom is allergic to anything cute, so I grew up without any pets, and I guess I've never missed what I didn't have." That was a lie. You always wanted a pet. Didn't really matter what, but your parents were very strictly against it, even now. Even though you were an adult who lived on their own, they would not have it and since they paid your rent...

"Well, if you want, I can let you walk Tess one day," he suggested. "As a favour in return?"

"How about the favour will be that I pay you 400 bucks like we agreed, huh? I'm not gonna babysit your dog too." Finally, the cars upfront started to move, and you had maybe moved five inches before another fucking BMW got in your way. Your blood might have actually reached the boiling point, and you began to lose feeling in your hands at the tightness of your fingers around your gear shift- but then, suddenly, you felt a soothing touch over your knuckles. Glancing down, you saw Tom's hand over yours. His thumb moved in slow motions over your skin. When you looked up at him, he was sitting casually in his seat, eyes on the road, most likely not even aware of what he was doing. You also got to notice, and even appreciate, his outfit. It consisted of a very sharp, dark grey suit. Under the jacket, he had a white button-up, no tie.