LONDON BOY

4. That One Touch

Listen to this song on repeat to get in this chapter's mood:
CH4: Lovers - Anna of the North

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Drenched from the rain, Tom opens the door to the suite of the W Hotel. When you follow him inside, your mouth falls open, "This room is bigger than my entire apartment." You say as you take in the grandness of the room. Tom chuckles a bit embarrassed, "Yeah the agency knows how to pick out a great hotel, don't they?"

He walks into the bathroom and returns with two towels. He hands you one, and starts to dry his hair. You remove Tom's soaked jacket from your shoulders, and take the towel with a friendly smile. Without saying anything, you wrap the towel around you and walk towards the window. The Royal Palace of Amsterdam looks amazing from here – you think, while taking in the view.

"Tea?" As you turn around, you see Tom holding two mugs of steaming hot tea. "Yes, please! I'm freezing!" You reach for the cup and immediately regret taking a sip. It's literally steaming hot, you moron – you think as you burn your tongue on the hot liquid. Tom catches your discomfort, and starts to laugh.

"So, where do you live, Meg?" He asks, trying to start up a conversation as he plops down on the large bed. Hesitating where to sit; on the bed next to him or on the couch a little removed from the bed, you decide on the latter. "Not far from here actually, just a ten-minute bike ride. I've moved in there with my best friends about two years ago now! The space is great, but cramped – like every Amsterdam flat that is priced reasonably."

You shiver. Tom walks over to his closet and takes out a pair of joggers, two shirts, and a sweater. He reaches you one of the shirts and the sweater, and says, "Here, take this. I promise it'll be more comfortable than that wet, little dress you're wearing right now." You blush, and then realize that he can probably see every detailed contour of your body, through the dress that is sticking to your body due to the heavy rainfall. You stand up and walk towards the door. "Actually, I should probably go." You say uncomfortably, avoiding Tom's gaze.

As you reach for the door, you hear Tom's voice saying softly, "Or you could stay here tonight..." You can feel your stomach flutter, as you take in his words. He then nervously adds, "I mean, if you want, you could stay here so you don't have to go back into the rain again. Haz says the couch is remarkably comfortable." Your heartbeat raises and a million thoughts race through your mind. Your mind is already halfway through the door, as your heart takes you by surprise.

You sharply turn around, and smirk. "Good for you, because I've always wanted to sleep in a W Hotel bed." Quite surprised by your witty response, Tom playfully squints his eyes towards you. He then over-dramatically says, "Fine, I give in. You win! You can have the bed." He pauses, and you can see mischief in his eyes as he adds, "Maybe I'll just join you in bed later tonight." From the way he immediately scrapes his throat after that remark, it is obvious he's instantly regretting his cockiness. You laugh it off though, "Don't you dare Thomas Tyler! Don't you dare!"

As Tom's changing into his joggers in the bathroom, you take the grey t-shirt that Tom laid on the bed for you. Stroking the textile with your fingers, you can't help but notice how soft the fabric is. A heavenly, manly smell enters your nostrils as you unfold the shirt and breath in.

You reach for your back zipper. But when trying to open it, somehow it won't move. Shit, why won't the darn thing open? As you turn around and look in the mirror, you see a piece of fabric being stuck in the teeth of the zipper. While you're busy fiddling; trying to free the fabric, Tom comes out of the bathroom. He looks at you with a slightly tilted head, "Why haven't you changed yet?" You turn around, and look at Tom. ­How is it possible for that man to look this good in grey joggers and a black t-shirt? When I wear sweatpants, it instantly makes me look like a homeless person that's just been attacked by a squirrel.

"The zipper," you say softly, "it's stuck." You turn your focus back to the dress, as you can feel Tom approach. "Here, let me help you." You hesitate before you turn your back towards Tom. As he tries to untangle the fabric from the zipper with one hand, he softly places the other on your left shoulder. Your feel a light flutter in your stomach.

That one touch, and you knew enough. You knew that the situation you somehow got yourself into was dangerous. You recognized that flutter you felt in your stomach all too well from your wildest daydreams. Your sense tries to convince yourself it's nothing; How many zippers must he have slid down? But as you glance at his concentrating face in the mirror, him biting his lip - you realize the battle with your heart was already lost.

His hand feels so gentle on your skin. It gives you goose bumps as he moves his hand slightly. Noticing the tensing of your body, Tom pulls away his hand, "I am so sorry, my hands must be cold to the touch. I almost got it; I promise." He says apologetically. You blush; if only he knew his hands weren't cold in the slightest. You just hadn't felt a man's soft touch like that in a long while.

He softly places back his left hand on your back, and with it, he traces your skin following his right hand, that is carefully sliding down your zipper. You close your eyes, and take a deep breath as you feel his hands lowering to the base of your back. The movement stops, but his hands stay in place. His left hand is now slowly caressing the newly bared skin that was hidden underneath your dress. You smile with your eyes closed. You've longed to be touched like this your entire life. You think about turning around to kiss him, and you almost do.

But when you hear stumbling in the hall, you snap out of it. Tom clears his throat, and you quickly take some steps forward, causing his touch to leave you back. "Thanks." You softly whisper, as you take his shirt and walk towards the bathroom.

Coming back into the room, you see Tom laying on the couch. You feel relieved, but at the same time you notice a flare of disappointment in the back of your mind. Pulling down his shirt as far as you can, you try your best to casually, but quickly, make your way over to the bed. As you make yourself comfortable under the softest duvet you've ever felt, you hear a gentle voice say, "Good night, Meg Vale."