now that we don't talk [tom blyth]

8.

His words tugged on my heartstrings. His humility and empathy resonated with me and I felt a sense of relief from his words. A sense of closure, maybe getting a bit of an understanding of what went wrong. I would never excuse what he did or what happened, but for a moment I felt like things were okay between us and that it was just a bad time for us to be together.

We wrapped things up and I hit end on the recorder. I let out a deep sigh, fixing up my hair blindly and hoping it looked okay. Tom didn't move, he just watched me. He watched me gather my cards into a pile. He watched me pack the recorder away. He watched me stand up and look over at him, finally making eye contact.

"Thank you, for today," he said softly with a smile. My heart melted at the sight, and I felt myself slipping back into his warmth almost immediately.

"It was a pleasure," I said with a closed-lip smile. I felt butterflies erupting in my stomach, filling with joy that I got to just see him and have some feeling of closure for a fleeting second. 

If there was one thing about our breakup that hurt the most, it was how it happened. Him, the other side of the world, little to no contact, and never speaking again after the final text. Except him agreeing to get his belongings from my house, which he never did. I never felt I got closure. I never felt like it actually ended. I felt like I was holding on to a small tiny piece of thread, hoping everything will be stitched back up in due time. 

Maybe I had made it to the second stage of grief: denial.

"Have you got anything else planned for the day?" his soft voice broke the silence between us. I stood up a little straighter, my arms filled with my laptop, cue cards and the box that held the recorder. In typical Tom fashion, he eyes didn't leave mine.

I dare him to blink, just once, so I can catch a break.

"Uhh, no, actually I don't, but-"

"Can I take you out? Just for a drink?"

I had to contain the shock on my face for just a moment. I didn't want to look like a little girl falling in love for the first time, or sappy teenager having their first crush. I was a woman who had her heart broken by the gorgeous man in front of me. I cleared my throat, noticing how warm my whole body felt in that moment.

"Uhh, yeah, sure, sure," I stuttered out. Fucking get a grip.

He nodded, rising from his seat and waving his hand gently to beckon me to walk first. Dean had already started packing everything away and when I looked at him to ask if he needed help, he shook his head with a smirk. 

I felt Tom's hand glaze over my waist, not touching it but close enough that I could feel his fingertips on my blouse. He walked next to me before beckoning me out the door first. 

"Ladies first," he said quietly and I chuckled. Tom always made a point when we dated that I always exited the room first. I called him a gentleman, he said it was just a thing boys do.

"So," clearing his throat for what seemed like the fifth time today, "where are you staying?"

I looked over at him as he walked next to me down the hall, "A couple of blocks over, I can't really remember the name. It's in German," he laughed.

"Can you send me the address? I'll meet you there later and we can go somewhere close so you don't have so far to get back." Gentleman.

"Sure, yeah I can do that," I nodded.

We found the dressing room where the rest of the cast were in between other interviews. Tom stopped in his tracks, looking over at me as we stood opposite each other.