Streetlights

I traced along the rim of my shot glass with the tip of my pointer finger. The auburn liquid inside looked so perfect right now. I picked up the glass and drank it fast, grimacing at the taste. SJ was next to me, mimicking my actions with her own drink.

“Yeh know, yeh can’t always do this when you’re pissed off,” she said before she flagged down the bartender, who happened to be a friend, for a refill.

I sighed. “My mom was pathetic, SJ. She followed my dad around in hopes of trying to find him and win him back, but she was always like fifty steps behind. I doubt drinking is going to make much of a difference. I’ve obviously already got the go-back-to-what’s- comfortable genes.”

“Except the difference is we aren’t moving around, and we actually love yeh.”

“Meh,” I mumbled and ordered a Jack and Coke.

SJ shrugged and looked around. She smiled and waved off in the distance, talking to me out of the corner of her mouth. “Well on a lighter note, Tom and some of his mates just walked in.”

I swiveled my stool around and looked towards the entrance. Sure enough, Tom walked in with a group of people, Gabby-less I might add. He looked good. His hair had recently been cut and he wore a white v-neck that showed off the tattoos that slightly peaked out on his collarbone. The shiners under his eyes were very noticeable in this light.

Tom’s eyes met mine and he smiled. It was a sly smile, borderline smirk, but it reeled me in. Him and his group approached and took seats next to SJ and me.

“How are yeh doin’?” Tom asked, taking a drink of my Jack and Coke.

I grabbed the glass from him and looked down at it, avoiding eye contact. “Oh ya’know, same ole.”

Tom slung and arm around my shoulders and ordered two shots: one for him, one for me. We did them in silence and he smiled at me afterwards. “How much have yeh already had to drink?”

“Not enough yet,” I replied, “you’re not going to meet your girlfriend here are you?”

“No,” he said, almost too quickly, “I’m not.’

“Then come dance with me,” I said boldly and downed the rest of my Coke. Tom looked at me with an eyebrow raised. We were in a bar, not a club, but there were still people dancing and I wanted to be close to him. Sue me. SJ and Tom’s friends looked up as we slipped away. They didn’t seem to care, not like it would have mattered.

The music was too loud to try to talk, so Tom just pulled me close, my back to his chest, and let his hands wander down my sides to my hips. I moved against him and let my head lean back, resting against his collarbone, breathing in his scent. He smelled like aftershave, weed, and the alcohol he just drank.

I should have been thinking about the fact that Tom had a girlfriend and he shouldn’t be sliding his hands up my shirt and to my waist, but I was thinking about what it was doing to me. My skin was heating up and I was pressing back harder against him.

“What are yeh tryin’ to get off your mind?” He asked, his lips brushing my ear.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does.”

“Tom,” I said, my voice telling him to shut up. He smiled, lips still pressed against my ear. His skin was soft and I liked it.

“Yeh haven’t seen my apartment, have yeh?” he asked, not actually wanting a reply, “Come home with me, I’ll give yeh the tour.”

“I’m only agreeing so I can see your flat,” I lied, grabbed my purse, and we left with only an all-knowing look shot in SJ’s direction.

After Tom showed me the kitchen, which had more booze than food, and the living room, I found myself tangled in his sheets, naked. He was off in the kitchen getting us water. I took the time to look around his room. It was a lot like his old one with pictures lining one wall ceiling to floor and a mural pasted on the other. Skateboards hung on the wall and it was slightly messy, but I liked it.

Tom walked into the room with a glass in each hand and boxers low on his hips. He smiled at me and handed me a glass before sitting on the bed. I took a sip and lay back on the mattress. Tom followed suit and we stared up at the ceiling in silence. The feeling in the room was calm, but the thoughts in my brain were a lot less satisfied than my body.

“Tom,” I spoke up. I paused for a minute, thinking, “Why are you still with Gabby if you and I are, ya’know, together like this.”

He was oddly quiet and I didn’t like it. For a moment, I thought I’d overstepped my boundaries, but then he finally replied. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.” He didn’t sound sure. “I guess that it’s just—”

Tom stopped half sentence and sat up. I sat up also, sheet clinging to my chest, and stared at him. “You guess that it’s what?” I asked and nudged him with my elbow.

“I hear the front door,” he said and stood up. I watched him walk over to his door and listen for noise.

I made a face. “It’s probably just Matt coming home, right?”

He looked at me, mouth twisted. “Gabby has a key.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumbled and rolled out of bed.

In all honesty, I wasn’t worried about Gabby walking in and finding me in Tom’s bed. I was worried about the decisions Tom would make. I wasn’t going to be the one to make him pick, but if Gabby caught us and he still decided to try and work things out with her, I wasn’t going to force myself into his life. I refused to be like my mom and chase after someone that didn’t want me. And I sure as hell didn’t want to be second choice to Gabby.

I bent down, grabbed my clothes from the floor, and rushed to put them on. I glanced up through my lashes while putting on my shoes and watched Tom dress himself. He flattened his hair, attempted to smooth out his wrinkled shirt, and almost forgot to button his jeans.

“I’m just gonna pop into the bathroom,” I said. Tom nodded and left the room first, heading for the front door, while I tried to tip toe past him and into the bathroom.

That’s when we both saw her: Gabby leaned against the front door, silver bag hung over her shoulder, her hands on her waist, and her lips pursed tightly together. From where she was, it could have looked like we cam from the office in the flat, but I doubted there was a way to pull off that excuse.

I was surprised she was there. More than surprised, I guess, because my heart started to beat so hard it fell into my stomach. “Is it too late for the bathroom?” I whispered to no one in particular.

Gabby’s posture straightened and she took a few steps forward. Her eyes were almost scary as they looked from Tom to me, to Tom again. “So am I goin’ to get an excuse for either of yeh?”

I watched her carefully as she talked. Her fists clenched and her manicured nails dug into her palms. Questions flashed through my mind: how likely was she to swing her bag at me, or, what are the chances of me being able to just stand there as Tom had to do the explaining?

Tom opened his mouth, ready to blurt out some excuse that formed in his head within the last few seconds, but Gabby shook her head. “Save it, Tom. I know, okay, I heard yeh two talkin’ and then getting’ dressed. But now yeh have to pick, yeh really have to pick.”