So maybe your life is in shambles and you run away to London to get your head straight. Sure, you don't really have a plan but the Universe does, and before you know it, some kid from Kingston has completely turned your world upside and your body i...
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It was late afternoon by the time you got home, bags of goodies in tow. Mrs. Padworth was outside watering the plants.
"Hello, dearie," she greeted you, eyeing your bags, "A young man came about looking for you earlier. I asked him his name but he said he would call you. Very handsome. Very young too. Friend of yours, hmm?," she gave a simpering smile.
"Thank you, Mrs. Padworth," you replied, hurrying inside to avoid any more conversation. Such a nosy cow.
Your phone blew up endlessly all day with texts. You eventually turned it off thinking it was Jason being a lunatic. He had a tendency to do that.
Inside, you set your bags down and turned your phone back on. There were a couple of texts from Jason. You didn't read them, instead deleting them immediately, with words like "slut" and "homewrecker" flashing briefly before you swiped. How charming, you thought, trying to remain calm.
Then you saw Tom had texted you as well. Like eight times. And a missed call. And he stopped by. Dude had no chill. You'd be lying if you said you didn't like the attention. You decided to call him back.
"Hey, stalker," you said when he answered, "heard you rang, texted, stopped by, sent a carrier pigeon..."
"I know, I know. Zero chill, right?" He read your mind, "I was hoping you'd want to join me tonight with the boys. There's a charity gala we're attending. My whole family is going to be there, actually."
Warning! Warning! Run the other way!
"Like, your whole family?," you asked.
"Yes, my mum and dad will be there and my brother, Sam. You haven't met him yet. Good lad."
You were silent for a minute. His mom and dad?! No no no no no no no. Definitely not. No fucking way.
"Tom," you said quietly, "I don't think that's a good idea." Bad, bad idea, you thought.
"Why not?" he sounded disappointed.
"Because, I don't want to meet your parents!" you laughed a little. "I mean, Jesus! That's a bit much, don't you think?" How could he not agree?
"It's just a charity event," now he sounded annoyed. "It's going to be a good time and my parents just happen to be attending. They do every year."
"I just...you can't hit me up a couple of hours before an event and expect me to be at your beck and call. I'm not your girlfriend. I may have other plans." Now it was your turn to get annoyed. It irritated you that he thought you'd just always be available. You didn't owe him anything. He had no claim on you. This is Tom, my lover, you thought again.
You're being unreasonable, your brain interjected. You told him before that you didn't have any friends and usually were available. You can't really fault him for wanting to spend time with you.
Yeah, but I can't sit around, waiting for him to figure it out, you answered. Who knows if he even wants something more?
But you're the one who keeps putting up roadblocks to something more, not him. Open your eyes, you idiot. You're being completely unfair.
Wait, whose side are you on, brain?
"I...I know you're not my girlfriend," Tom stammered, "I - just forget it."
You didn't say anything. You didn't know what to say. Between this, Jason and the Dr. Marten Don Juan, you were starting to think that men in general were just a big, bad mistake.
Finally, you spoke, "Listen, I'm sorry. I suck at this. You probably think I know what I'm doing half the time, but I really -"
"But what if you were?" Tom cut you off.
"Were what?" you were confused.
"My um, girlfriend," he said. His voice quivered a bit.
Say what? He wasn't serious. You felt that swell again, the one you felt that first night at the bar. It was overwhelming.
"I don't...," you tried to muster some sort of cohesive sentence.
"I'm coming over," he said quickly.
"No, Tom, I don't think-," but he had already hung up and you stood there stupidly looking at your phone.
