The One

Heart somewhere else

The midday traffic was standing still, frustrated drivers were blasting their horns as Tom and Sally arrived at London's Colmore Circus. An accident in the Queensway tunnels had caused four traffic lanes to reduce down to one. It was so goddamn loud, drilling and thumping sounds coming from construction workers who were working on creating another multistory building on the concrete ashes of a recently demolished office block. Tom raised his head to look at their destination and spotted the name that was highlighted in red and black lettering across two third-floor windows, "One-2-One Physio" he read out loud to himself. With his advertising and marketing background, he mentally ripped the choice of font and graphic apart.

"Why am I doing this?" he asked Sally again.
"Because we both need to know if there's any spark between you and this man."
"That's ridiculous," Tom argued, as he had been doing frequently since he found out he was DNA Matched with a man. "Im a heterosexual bloke who isn't physically attracted to men. First off, there will be definitely no spark, and, secondly, in the remotest chance possible there might be, how can one even fucking measure or explain properly what a spark is?"
"You told me the night we first met in the bar that you knew there and then that we'd end up married," she explained calmly. "You said that you felt your heart flutter. Now, for my own peace of mind, I need you to meet this guy to find out if your heart flutters for him too. Otherwise you'll spend the rest of your life wondering."
"No babe, you will spend the rest of your life wondering. I will spend it wondering why on earth I've been matched with a guy when it's a woman I'm head over heels in love with."
"It's science and science is based on facts. Wether you believe it or not. You have to do this."

Tom took a deep breath and took Sally's face in his hands, kissing her deeply. While on the outside he was giving the appearance of not caring to meet his Match but on the inside, Tom had a growing curiosity about the man he supposedly shared a link with.

"Well... Let's get this over with." He sighed.
"I'll be in the Coffee shop over the road when you're done."
Tom gave her a half-hearted smile, pressed the buzzer on the door and once it opened, he made his way up three flights of stairs to the reception desk.

"Hi.." he smiled nervously at the young receptionist who had a tattoo of a rose on her hand. "I've got an appointment with Tord at 2:30.."
"Hm. Nick Smith?" she asked, glancing down at the schedule on her screen. Tom nodded, pleased that he changed his name. If Tord had also requested the contact details of his pairing, Tom hadn't wanted forewarn him they were about to meet face to face. "You need some physio on your neck and shoulder, is that right?" she continued.
"Yes."
"Okay, just fill out this form and Tord will be with you in a few minutes."

Tom sank into the armchair and began to complete the brief questionare about his bogus ailment. Along with his name, he'd also made up the whiplash he'd received in a recent non-existent car accident.

"Nick?" a deep but friendly voice with an accent, Tom couldn't pin point where it came from, came from behind him. Tom turned to find a smiling Tord standing in the doorway.
"Y-yes," Tom stammered.
"I'm Tord," he began and held his hand out to shake Tom's.
"Come on in, let's take a look at you."
Tom followed him into a room and perched on the physiotherapy bed as Tord sat on a fold-up chair.
"So tell me about the pain and what caused it," Tord asked.

As Tom began, he hoped Tord wouldn't ask him to go into any further detail about the accident as that was as far as he'd rehearsed his lie. But instead, Tord ran through some general questions about Tom's health and work habits while Tom tried his best not to stare. Even Tom had to admit, that like his photo indicated, Tord was incredibly good-looking.

"Right, if you want to take your Shirt off for me and lie down face up," Tord said and squirted some sanitizer into his hands. Tom suddenly felt very scrawny compared to Tord's broad chest which burst from his V-neck shirt.
"Im just going to feel around your neck and shoulders for a moment," Tord explained and stood behind him.

'Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,' Tom thought to himself, bracing himself for Tord's touch, hoping his body wouldn't betray him, like his nipples standing to attention or his dick twitching. He reminded himself that when he was drunk he'd often embrace his male friends but it never sparked a sexual reaction before. He closed his eyes and prayed as Tord's hands made contact with his shoulders. And then... Nothing. All he felt were Tord's fingers poking around, digging into knots, manipulating his neck into different positions and requesting him to tilt it in various directions. Tom breathed out a sigh of relief. He turned around and laid facedown on the bed at Tord's request, putting his face through a hole. With that Tord's hands wandered their way down of his patient's spine, fixing certain knots with an audible crack. Despite the occasional flash of discomfort, Tom felt relaxed enough to start some small talk.

"So... Are you an Aussie?"
"No, an Arctic Fox. I'm from Norway."
"Ah, how long have you been over here?"
"About... twenty months or so, although my visa's running out. My old man's aka my father isn't doing so good so I'm heading home soon."
"Oh.. sorry to hear that. Are you going back for good?"
"That's the idea. We're just in the process of sorting out my girlfriend's permit to work in Norway. She's a brit."
'He has a girlfriend. He's not gay,' Tom thought, reassured that they were on the same boat. The same, straight, positively heterosexual, boat.

As Tord continued to manipulate and maneuver his way around Tom's shoulders and neck, they made small talk about work and where they socialized. Tom learned that they occasionally frequented the same bars, but they had little else in common. Tord was the sports type, playing amateur rugby most weekends, he even proudly displayed a photo of his team, Solihull Rugby Club, hanging on the wall of his 'office', or spending time away with his girlfriend hiking or rock climbing. The closest Tom came to exercise was running to catch a bus when he overslept.

"Right, bud, that should just about do it for you today," Tord said calmly. "You were a bit knotted, but it wasn't too bad back there. Give it another week and if the symptoms persist, make another appointment to come and see me."
"Great. Thank you," Tom replied, throwing his T-shirt and jacket on. As he got to his feet, he felt a little bit light-headed.

He spotted Sally through the window, three floors below in the coffee shop. He smiled to himself, reassured that this hiccup hadn't spoiled their plans. The person he was destined to spend the rest of his life was sitting on the opposite side of the road, and not standing in the same room with him.

After shaking hands, Tom made his way toward the reception desk once again. He held his phone up to the machine scanner to pay, realizing how stupid he was for worrying about the possibility of being gay. This was proof, he told himself, that the DNA tests were a con. He glanced toward the treatment room just as Tord turned his head.... And suddenly, as their eyes made contact, Tom felt himself take a sharp, involuntarily gasp of breath. His heart began to beat wildly and he could feel his eyes widen slightly. His stomach felt like it was about to turn over and by the look of the sudden bewilderment on Tord's face, he could tell he was feeling the exact same.

"Here's your receipt." The receptionist smiled as she spoke, breaking Tom free from the spell. He hurried down the stairs and out of the building in a panic. He stood on the pavement for a moment, leaning against the wall and hoping the gentle summer breeze might cool his flushed face down.

'What for the forgodsaken hell was that?!' he asked himself. When his sharp, shallow breaths became calmer again and his heartbeat stopped racing, he made his way towards Sally.
"Well? How was it?" she asked anxiously, as he sat down on a stool beside her.
"Yeah, fine. But he's not my type." Tom smiled and forced himself to laugh.
"So I'm not about to lose my fiancè to a man?"
By the tone of her voice it sounded like she was trying to make a joke but he could tell her question was serious.
"Did you honestly think that might be case, darling?"
"No. Well.. maybe. A little. Okay yes.."
"Of course not," he said reassuringly, comforting the now relieved girl with a peck on her forehead. As she stretched her arms out and wrapped them tightly around him, Tom's eyes glanced across the road and three stories up to the clinic, where he knew... He left his heart.