Chasing Pavements

Tom had never been in a situation such as this before, and he honestly didn’t know how to address it. And neither, it seemed, did Violet.

Tom had awoken the morning it happened, just as Violet had been tiptoeing out of his room. His head was still swimming from the alcohol, but he knew what they had done—just not the circumstances of how it had happened.

He remembered finding Sophie, and then drinking probably more than he ever had before. He remembered bits and pieces of the trip home—getting in the taxi, Violet helping him, the feel of his lips on Violet’s… The memories were fuzzy and fragmented, but they were there.

Later, when he was in the living room, the TV blaring noisily (it was too quiet in their apartment) he had gone over and over what he could possibly say to Violet to try and remedy the situation, but when he heard her come out of her room and go into their kitchen, his mind cleared and he said nothing.

Were there words that could really fix a situation like this? And why couldn’t she say something? Why couldn’t either of them say anything?

Maybe it was their friendship—both worrying about what this change could bring, especially if they acknowledge what had happened. Maybe they were both just so uncertain, the fear of the unknown clutching at their vocal chords in an attempt to not bring it up.

It remained unspoken.



Once classes started up, Tom and Violet didn’t see each other as much. Each had their separate classes and homework assignments, study groups, rehearsals for shows…

They usually crossed paths in the morning and the evenings, occasionally having lunch together. When Tom didn’t have rehearsal for a show, they could hang out together more on the weekends.

It didn’t take as long as either thought for things to feel normal again. They still never brought up what happened before the semester started, and it became easier for them to just pretend that it never happened.

That is, they pretended it didn’t happen until one Friday night when they broke into a couple bottles of wine, lazing around on the couch switching between watching reality TV and cheesy rom-coms.

Violet was watching one of the movies on television, lying down on the couch, her feet in Tom’s lap when she realized he was watching her. She turned her head lazily, her vision only swimming slightly from the alcohol, and she giggled when her gaze met his.

“What?” she questioned. Tom just shook his head, and smiled, looking down at his lap. Violet sighed and sat up slowly, gripping the back of the couch with one of her hands. She slid closer to Tom, placing her legs across his lap now so that she could sit more comfortably. “What’s going on?”

His blue eyes turned upward, meeting her own.

“Do you ever think about that night?”

She considered responding with a feigned, innocent, “what night?” but thought better of it.

“Sometimes,” she answered. “You?”

“Probably more than I should,” he said. “Why did you let it happen?”

Violet rolled her eyes.

“You have just as much responsibility in this as I do.”

“Sorry,” Tom said. “That came out wrong.”

“I did try and stop it,” she finally said, shrugging. “You’re very convincing.”

“Well, I am an actor,” Tom grinned at her and Violet laughed.

“I could smack you right now.” Violet raised her hand jokingly and Tom was quick to wrap his fingers gently around her wrist.

“No violence,” he said. Tom’s hand didn’t leave her wrist, and all of a sudden it was serious again. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Violet answered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page with what happened,” Tom replied. “I just don’t want either of us to come away hurt from this, in case there were any feelings involved.”

“The only feelings I have for you are those of a best friend,” Violet lied. “I suppose this was bound to happen at some point.”

“I’m glad we feel the same way,” Tom smiled, his eyes darting to look at Violet’s lips.

He suddenly let go of her wrist and brought his hand to the back of her head, pushing her forward as he leaned in and he kissed her, his lips pressed softly to hers for a moment. When he pulled away, Violet’s eyes were opened wide in shock.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I just wanted to see what it was like when I’m a little more sober than the last time.”

“It’s fine,” Violet finally whispered. She smiled at him to reassure him. Inside, she was aching with the want for him to kiss her because he felt the same as her.



Everything after that seemed to go back to normal, but something just seemed off.

Violet started to notice that Tom would stare at her when he thought she didn’t notice. But she noticed. She had no idea what was going on in his head, but when she found out it was safe to say she was quite surprised.

“This is going to sound completely crazy,” Tom said one evening, as they were washing their dinner dishes. “And you can just tell me no, and we can forget that I ever mentioned anything, but I think we should start sleeping together.”

Violet almost dropped the plate she was drying.

“What?”

“Hear me out,” Tom said, turning off the faucet in the sink. Violet clutched the plate tightly in her hands. “We’ve both agreed that we have no romantic feelings for each other. I’m recently single, you’re single and as far as I can tell, not looking to change that fact. Of course, we don’t have to do this, but I just think it’s something to consider.”

Violet stared at him, her mind racing, the edges of the plate pressing uncomfortably into her palms. This really should be some kind of miracle to her, but she wasn’t sure if she could handle sleeping with Tom, with no attachments, when she felt so strongly for him.

But they had already slept together once, and though it had been difficult after the fact, she wasn’t having any trouble dealing with it. Tom had returned to washing the dishes, and she watched him for a minute before making her decision.

“Let’s do it.”

The water shut off and Tom turned to her.

“What was that?” he questioned, drying his hands off on a towel.

“Let’s sleep together,” she said, watching Tom carefully. He smiled and came toward her, taking the plate from her hands and setting it on the counter.

“Shall we start now?”