now that we don't talk [tom blyth]

11.

When Dean and I got inside and sat down, I lost all sight of Tom until he and the cast stood to introduce the film. His eyes were scanning the room before they settled straight ahead of him, interjecting into the conversations where appropriate. I admired from afar, in fact, the back-left of the room. The way he looked at every person who spoke, shifting his hands from his pockets to the microphone, swapping hands, touching his hair, straightening his jacket. He moved with grace and confidence like I once remembered.

I also once remembered him being incredibly anxious after events, and I wondered if he still would feel that way once he got back to his hotel room. I remember him coming back to my apartment in New York after one in Times Square. We ended up sitting on the couch in the living room for 2 hours, talking about all his worries and fears from the night and how all of those were his own judgements of what happened and less-than-likely to be actually true. 

During the film, my eyes subconsciously scanned the room for him but I couldn't find him. By the time the crowd of people left, I had no chance of seeing him or saying goodbye, instead climbing into the first taxi I could find. Back at the hotel room, I was stripped out of my clothes and makeup and mid-way through brushing my teeth when I heard my phone buzz from the other room. I rinsed my mouth before strolling over to look at it.

Tom: You looked amazing tonight. I am so sorry I couldn't say goodbye - coffee in the morning?

He knew I couldn't resist a coffee date. I typed back a quick 'yes' before crawling into the warm sheets.

When the sun rose, I quickly showered and got dressed before speeding down the lift and onto the street. I was running slightly late from the hot water in the shower not warming up for 20 minutes and having to call the reception for help. Tom was leaning against a street light, scrolling on his phone, immediately glancing up when he heard the door slam shut, my heavy breathing taking its place from rushing downstairs.

"Took your time," he joked, pulling me into a warm embrace. I savoured the moment, inhaling the scent of his cologne from the skin of his neck. 

"I am so sorry, the hot water wasn't hot and I wasn't having a cold shower and I had to call reception and some gu-" I rattled off, barely taking a breath in between. I was cut off by Tom's hand over my mouth, feeling the cold of his fingertips against my cheek. With a smirk on his face, he pulled his hand away, my jaw left hanging open.

"You done?" he queried with a raised eyebrow. I nodded. "Great," he reached down and grabbed my hand in his, intertwining his fingers with mine.

"Cold hands, you know?" he said with a shrug as we walked down the street. We found a small coffee shop. We ordered, taking a seat on a small table out the front and watching the city move past us. 

"You looked amazing last night," he said, his blue eyes locking with mine.

"You may have mentioned," he chuckled at my response.

"No, seriously Kira, I couldn't take my eyes off you."

My heart melted at his words. He always had a way with them, always knew how to make me swoon, make me crumble, and make me fall harder and harder. It was the thing that made me fall in the first place. 

We first met at a friend's birthday dinner. We were invited to an expensive steak house in Brooklyn where we were sat next to each other at the end of the table. Not sure how that worked out, but both of us ended up drinking cocktails and sharing a meal together, talking about our jobs, our lives, what we do in our spare time and everything in between. We were the last ones at the restaurant, and as we waited outside for taxis to take us home, I pulled him in for a kiss. I couldn't resist - the way his black silk shirt shifted with his body, the black pants that he wore day-in day-out and I never got tired of seeing him in, I just had to show him how I felt. Thankfully, he wasn't too startled and ended up kissing me back with just as much lust and desire. We exchanged numbers and spent a few months going back and forth, going on dates, immersing ourselves in each other's lives. During one of our weekends together, he asked me to be his girlfriend whilst holding the most beautiful bouquet of flowers I had ever laid eyes on. 

Through it all, he knew how to make me swoon. Holding the door open, small touches of my hands, delicate kisses to my lips and temple, a hand grazing my back and waist, never letting me enter or leave a room last. Amongst all of the boys I had dated, he was a gentleman. He knew how to make me feel like an angel on earth, up until he started to get comfortable and the cracks started to form.

"Well, thank you. You scrubbed up alright too," I said with a nod and he laughed, his beautiful smile spreading on his face.

"Thank you," he said as our coffees arrived, him pausing to thank the waiter and take a sip. "So, what did you think of the movie?"

I too had taken a sip of my coffee, wiping the little bit of froth that hung on my lips away, "Fuck, Tom, it was so good," I saw the grin spread on his face, "Like, so good. And you were so amazing, I am so so proud of you."

A redness spread onto his cheeks as he sipped at his coffee to conceal the smile emerging on his face. 

"Thank you, and, it was really special for you to be there too."

A soft silence fell over us as we sipped at our coffee and watched Berlin move around us. I heard Tom clear his throat and place his mug down out of the corner of my eye.

"When do you go back to New York?" his voice cut through the silence. I looked back over at him.

"Umm," I paused, "I think late tomorrow night I fly out. You?"

"Premiere in London this week, then back home around Saturday or Sunday I think," I nodded along to his response.

"Where are you living now?" I questioned. When he went overseas to film, he had been living in my apartment with me. The lease on his old place had ended and, with him going overseas, he didn't see the purpose in finding another permanent place when I had offered for him to live with me. Obviously, when he returned, that wasn't an option.

"Actually, there was a place up the road from you being sold for a good price. I ended up buying it so, yeah, been living there. But, kinda not really, as I have barely been there so everything is in boxes and the mattress is on the floor," we both laughed in unison.

"So you could have come to get your stuff, living that close," I hummed.

"I was scared."

"I figured."

-

Tom and I exchanged several text messages before I left to return to New York. We didn't get a chance to see each other again, as he was heading to London, but I sent one final message before I boarded my flight.

Kira: Let me know when you get back to New York x

The flight, just like the one to Berlin, was long and tiring. I spent most of it transcribing the interviews with Tom and Rachel and drafting up the article that would be published later that week. Although it was tiring work, listening to Tom and I talk was music to my ears. The way he spoke with so much passion about his work and art, the way our voices bounced off each other, it felt like something fell into place during that interview, something that was going to change the course of our relationship forever.