Alone Together

Save for the few times that Scarlett had been forced to play host and ensure that her guests were not burning down her house, she, Tom, and Elliott had remained out on the back porch for the entirety of the night.

Tom had quickly learned that Elliott was a fairly successful songwriter. He had also discovered that she and Scarlett had met a couple of years back, when they had both lived in New York. They had reunited in California when Elliott had been searching for an inexpensive place to stay in temporarily. The two had been living together for a few months.

Elliott had learned that Tom was a fairly successful actor who had met Scarlett during their work together on The Avengers. Elliott had immediately apologized for not having seen the epic blockbuster. “My movie collection consists of almost nothing but indie films and obscure ‘80s movies,” Elliott had joked, her voice inflected with something that might have been pride.

Tom had laughingly assured her that he wasn’t offended. Shortly after, Scarlett launched into a story regarding their antics at The Avengers wrap party. Tom gave his best attempt at listening to the amusing anecdote, but his attention kept drifting back to Elliott.

There was just something so attractive about the way she conducted herself. She moved with an almost cat-like grace and spoke in a soft, smoky voice that Tom wished to hear far more. Whenever she would smile, it wouldn’t quite reach her melancholic eyes and she would swiftly return to looking sullen.

All of a sudden, Tom felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He tried to suppress a tired yawn and failed miserably, prompting Scarlett to pause in the midst of her regaling. “Oh, Tom, you must be completely drained, you poor thing.” Scarlett squeezed his shoulder affectionately. Tom’s hollowed cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“I suppose I might be a bit tired,” he allowed, rubbing the back of his neck. Right then, Scarlett made the decision to bring her party to a close. Many hugs from various friends were shared and several gift bags were distributed before Scarlett finally got everyone through the front door and out of her house. Elliott and Tom stood in the middle of the living room, appalled by the amount of trash cluttering the space.

Tom wrinkled his nose with distaste. "Scarlett, I really wouldn’t mind helping you clean up before I go to bed.” Tom bent over to retrieve a crumpled, red SOLO cup lying near his feet.

Scarlett snatched the cup from Tom and placed it on her marble countertop. “No way. Go to sleep,” she ordered in a stern voice, pointing towards the stairs that led down to the basement. “We can clean up tomorrow, when you don’t look like you’re about to keel over. You too, Lee.”

Scarlett put her hands on her hips like she meant business. She could be scary when she wanted to be. Neither Tom nor Lee dared to argued with her demands. They both padded down the staircase, Lee’s footsteps light behind Tom’s heavy ones.

Tom flicked the switch at the bottom of the stairs, flooding the room with fluorescent light. Scarlett’s basement wasn’t much different than the upper level. Same carpeting, same wallpaper, different part of the house. Tom appreciated the simplicity of it. Elliott tapped Tom on the shoulder, pulling his attention away from the decor.

“Your room is down the hall.” Elliott deftly slipped out of her heels and led Tom into the dimly-lit hallway. The tattoo etched between Elliott’s jutting shoulder blades became visible to Tom, her back turned to him. It was a short sentence written in a loopy cursive type: The only truth is music. Tom smiled. A pretty girl who was also a fan of Jack Kerouac. Lee became more intriguing by the minute.

Elliott stopped abruptly when she reached the end of the hall and Tom nearly walked right into her. When she turned around to face him, he was so close to her, she could see the gold flecks that speckled Tom’s beautiful blue eyes.

“Right through there,” Elliott said absently, hand gesturing to a closed door. The light fixture hanging over Tom’s head illuminated his features like a halo. Elliott found herself studying him with interest.

Elliott noticed for the first time that Tom was not much taller than her, only had an inch on her or so. She also noticed that he smelled rather nice. A clean, masculine scent that complimented Tom’s personality well. It was subtle and intoxicating at the same time.

Elliott suddenly felt unbearably hot. Her skin crawled and her mind blanked. She inched away from Tom and grasped her doorknob with a clammy palm. “Uh, m-my room is across from yours if you need me,” Elliott stammered, her cheeks pinkening. The words hadn’t sounded quite as suggestive in her head.

“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.” Tom smirked like he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on her.

“Seems that way.”

Tom nodded slowly, his smile growing. “Good night, Elliott.” Tom opened his door and disappeared into his new bedroom.

“Good night,” Elliott replied faintly, feeling dazed and confused.

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The rest of Tom’s luggage arrived early the next morning. Scarlett and Elliott perched on the loveseat in the basement; they watched Tom come up and down the stairs an endless amount of times, a different box in his arms each run. Tom had protested when either of the girls had offered to help, just like Scarlett had expected him to.

Scarlett nudged Elliott in the ribs playfully. “So what do you think of him? He’s handsome, right?”

“I’m not saying that I don’t think he’s attractive…,” Elliott began. She was immediately interrupted by an obnoxious groan from Scarlett. Elliott couldn’t say that she hadn’t expected it.

She just remained silent. She agreed with Scarlett: Tom was a handsome man. His chiseled features and lean physique were enough to make any woman swoon, but then he also had to be the most polite man in existence. His manners were beyond impressive and the rich, velvety tone of his voice was dreamy, to say the least. This didn’t mean Elliott was simply going to throw herself at him. She wasn’t counting on a repeat of her slip-up from the night before. Judging by the amount of women that had been undressing him with their eyes the night before, Tom got enough ass as it was.

Elliott figured that she was still allowed to check him out once in awhile. God hadn’t given him those looks to let them be ignored.

“Why are you always so picky when it comes to men? He’s perfect!” Scarlett squawked impatiently. Elliott’s eyes rolled up to the spackled ceiling. Scarlett sounded like the nagging mother in Pride and Prejudice, except less English and way more bitchy.

“Then why don’t you date him?”

Scarlett scowled at Elliott, her bow-shaped lips pursing. “I’ve been seeing Romain for months now. You know that.” Elliott did know that. Romain was a lovely guy that made Scarlett laugh more than anyone she knew.

Elliott just shrugged. “And I’m dating Kyle.” Even as she said it, Elliott knew it was a weak argument. Kyle was a guy she had met at a concert she had attended with Scarlett. He was nothing more than an attractive distraction and Elliott was certain that Kyle felt the same about her.

Scarlett groaned again, and somehow, it was even louder than the last one. Elliott got a sick satisfaction from seeing her friend so frustrated over her. She bit down on her tongue to keep from grinning. “You and Kyle aren’t even serious,” Scarlett pointed out, “And let’s be honest”---she paused, lowering her voice---“He’s got nothing on Tom.”

Elliott started to argue, but her statement died on her lips as Tom came barreling down the stairs, hefting a heavy-looking box in his arms like it was nothing. He was in a red threadbare t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination. The fabric clung tightly to his stomach, outlining the firm ripples of muscle. His athletic shorts framed his calves nicely. Not that Elliott had been looking.

“This is the last box,” Tom informed Scarlett, who proceeded to hoist herself off of the couch. “The moving truck will be gone in a matter of minutes.”

“Great, because I need to back my car out of the garage soon.” Scarlett warily checked the time on her phone. “If the roads are clear, I might just be on time.” Scarlett was headed to a cover shoot for a popular magazine. Elliott imagined that it was for her being named Sexiest Woman of the Century. Again.

Scarlett gave Elliott a quick kiss on the cheek before scurrying off, declaring something about changing out of her pajamas and into her “big girl” clothes. Elliott silently willed her friend to stay in the room, but she was up the stairs and gone in a matter of seconds. She and Tom were alone.

It wasn’t that Elliott didn’t like Tom. She just didn’t know him. And the way he always acted so nice made her a little uncomfortable. Tom seemed like the kind of man who got what he wanted most of the time; Elliott didn't want to be another example of that.

Tom flashed a disarming smile. Elliott didn’t note that he hadn’t shaved yet and she definitely didn’t note that Tom looked even sexier with a jaw covered in ginger stubble.

“What are you doing this fine day?” he asked, wrenching Elliott out of her thoughts.

“Working. You probably won’t see me for the rest of the day..” Elliott shifted in her seat, shoving her hands into the pockets of her varsity jacket. The oversized thing swallowed her thin frame, her denim cutoffs just barely poking out from underneath. “I also plan on giving The Avengers a try,” Elliott added with a half-smile. “Scarlett tells me that your character is quite the colossal asshole.”

Tom laughed good-naturedly; he had the feeling that Elliott had paraphrased Scarlett’s actual statement. “I can’t and won’t argue with that,” he responded. “I can assure you that I am nothing like him in reality.”

“Too bad, because colossal assholes are my favorite kind of guys.” Tom chuckled, and he watched Elliott’s kohl-rimmed eyes light up for a second before being restored to their natural state. “Do you know where I could find a copy of the movie? I forgot to ask Scarlett.”

“I might have one packed into a box somewhere,” Tom suggested helpfully. “I’ll look around later, if you like.” Tom set down his carton and stretched his faintly muscled arms over his head. A strip of pale skin peeked out as the hem of his shirt separated from the waistband of his shorts. Elliott quickly averted her eyes.

She turned her gaze to her feet, dragging her knees up to her chest to fiddle with the laces of her Chuck Taylors. “So what are you up to today?” Elliott asked, making eye contact with Tom only after he lowered his arms. “What does a movie star do to entertain himself?"

“I wouldn’t call myself a movie star.”

Elliott resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Scarlett had mentioned something about him being humble…

“To answer your question,” Tom continued, “I’m going to meet with a director for a callback in an hour or so. Nothing terribly exciting."

Elliott made a vague noise. "I wish you good luck." She unfolded herself and scrambled to her feet, shooting a quick glance at the Cheshire Cat clock hanging on the wall. "I should get going."

“Oh!” Tom exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “Scarlett and I are going out to the bar on L Street this evening.” Tom smiled. “You should join us.”

Elliott’s initial instinct was to object, but the look on Tom’s face led her to hesitate. The eagerness in his striking features made her fingers tingle. Elliott clenched her fists to stop the sensation. “Maybe I will,” she found herself saying.

“I certainly hope so.” Tom winked. He disappeared down the hall, box in arms.

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When Elliott returned to the house after work, it was almost been half-past ten. She tiptoed through the front door and into the basement, stripping away her jacket and sneakers. She froze when she heard hushed whispers coming from the living room. Elliott frowned in confusion; Scarlett and Tom were still supposed to be out drinking. Had they decided to retire early?

Elliott bounded up the stairs, expecting to find Scarlett and her attractive English friend chatting it up on the futon. She was startled to find Tom and a busty, auburn-haired girl giggling over an expensive-looking bottle of Pinot Noir. Tom glanced up at Elliott with glassy eyes.

“Elliott!” Tom exclaimed happily. “I missed you at the bar today!” His flushed cheeks and the nearly-undetectable slurring of his words might have been cute if there hadn’t been a random redhead trying to drape herself over him. “Why didn’t you come?”

Elliott didn’t really have a specific answer to his question. What was she supposed to say? That being alone with her own thoughts had posed a more tempting offer than making pointless small talk with people she barely knew? Or that she wanted to avoid the tingly feeling that she had felt when Tom had smiled at her?

“Um, I was really busy today,” Elliott lied, fussing with a strand of hair. “Where is Scarlett?”

Tom frowned and squeezed his eyes shut like he couldn’t remember who Scarlett was. “You just missed her. Romain picked her up for a date,” Tom explained. He smiled dazedly. “He dropped off some wine. You should have some.” He grabbed at the half-empty bottle of red wine standing on the end table.

“I’m fine, really,” Elliott assured him, holding her palm up. She must have started staring at the nameless redhead in the micro-mini at one point because Tom finally decided to introduce her.

“Oh!” Tom called out, as if just remembering that there was a woman beside him. “This is Maja. I met her at the callback.”

Maja lifted her fingers in a flirty wave. “When he found out that we might be doing a movie together, he invited me to the bar.” Maja rubbed Tom’s thigh affectionately. “He’s such a sweetheart,” she gushed drunkenly.

Maja tossed her glossy locks over her shoulder and leaned closer to Tom, giving him an eyeful of her ample cleavage. She was luring him in with her assets, waiting to sink her lacquered claws into him. Tom was unwittingly falling for it all.

Elliott felt prickles of annoyance poking at her scalp. She was in no place to be irritated with Tom, but, for some reason, she was. Deep down, she had hoped that he was different, that he was genuinely as incredible as Scarlett had made him out to be. It was disappointing to find out that Tom was just like every other man: more likely to choose a giggly, vapid slut over a girl with some substance.

“Good night,” Elliott muttered, padding out of the living room. She was fairly sure that neither Tom nor Maja had even noticed that she had left.

It wasn’t until after Elliott had changed into her pajamas and tucked herself into bed that she realized something: she was jealous.