Just Like Her

Chapter 13

Emma

"Nearly ready, promise!" Tom's voice called from the loo.

I 'hmm'ed in response as I turned another page in my book.

I sat comfortably on his bed with my back pressed against the wooden headboard and my legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles.

"I'm serious, I just—"

"You take longer to get ready than I do," I murmured just loud enough for him to hear me through the open doorway.

We had stayed out late the night before, eventually parting around three and agreeing to meet the next morning for a quick breakfast before he accompanied me to a reading. Tom had insisted on walking me back to the room I was renting, and, in exchange, I offered to pick him up from his hotel in the morning. He had happily agreed, and I had shown up at 7:30 am to find Tom attempting to blink the sleep from his eyes while wearing tantalizingly short boxers and nothing else.

It had been a challenge to tear my eyes away from his broad chest and the soft V of muscles running down his abdomen, but as he quickly washed up and found some clothes, I somehow managed to do just that. I plopped down on the still-warm bed and cracked open the book I had brought along, staring at the pages as if I could make out the words while my mind still roamed over the memory of his nearly naked body.

"I highly doubt that," he scoffed. "Besides, I had to shower!"

"Whatever you say, dear!" I sang in retort.

I waited, but Tom said nothing. Satisfied, I imagined him grinning to himself in the mirror.

We hadn't agreed to an 'official status,' as Trisha would call it, but after Tom and my conversation last night, I felt confident it was forthcoming if not already implied. Either way, it was enough for me.

I hadn't been looking for anything serious when I'd met Tom, and despite how wonderful he was in every way, I still wasn't looking to jump into a serious commitment. It's not that I didn't want a relationship with him—quite the opposite, really. 

Meeting Tom that day in Flannigan's had been a complete surprise and the ease with which he fit into my life equally so. Even still... I wanted to know him more before I let myself form any serious attachments. I feared I was running short on time, though, as each day I could feel more and more of my heart give way to him.

Yesterday, when I first saw Tom standing in the middle of the road, I thought my heart was going to physically break out of my ribcage. Still, another part of me had been scared—not of his unexpected presence, but rather, of his unexpected jealousy. It had been quiet—so quiet at first I hadn't noticed it—then as it stewed it grew more and more pronounced, seemingly overtaking his entire being from his words to his mannerisms.

It reminded me of a past life I would have preferred to forget.

I turned another page and, as I did, my phone chirped with a text message. Without taking my eyes off my book, I picked up my phone from the bedside table and brought it into my line of vision.

Have you told her yet?! Just bloody get it over w/ you coward!

I reread the message, utterly confused, and then glanced up at the name of the sender. I instinctively threw the phone to the other side of the bed, cursing.

"Em, you okay?"

Tom's head appeared in the doorway.  I scrambled off the bed, away from the treacherous device. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—"