The Untitled Diary of a Girl Named Bones

I kissed Tom.

Right in front of Ryan.

Why the hell did I do it?

You’re obviously jealous of her.

Why would I be jealous of that backstabbing…..dog?

Little green monster!, the annoyingly right voice sang in my head.

I turned to face the wall, and pressed my face against the cool concrete bricks. I really wished that a vortex would open up in the wall and take me somewhere far, far away.

What have I done?

Tom had been surprisingly quiet throughout my little internal rant.

I turned to look at him. He looked confused. Smug, but confused.

He looked right back at me, smirking, but he did nothing to hide the confusion lurking in his brown eyes.

Of course, he wanted me to explain my idiotic actions.

I sighed, not budging, and turned back to my wall.

He prompted, “Not that I’m complaining, but why did you do that?”

“Do what? I don’t know what you’re talking about Tom,” I said, knowing that denial won’t get me anywhere.

“You know what,” he said so softly I thought I had imagined him saying it.

“Tom, to be honest, I don’t know why I did it.”

“Do you regret doing it?” he questioned, the smugness dropping from his face, only to be replaced by a strange seriousness that was rare for him.

I wracked my brains. Did I regret kissing him?

I don’t think I did. I mean, I kind of….enjoyed it. I think I kind of…like Tom.

I answered confidently, “No.”

His expression faltered for a moment when his eyes widened. I guess he wasn’t expecting that answer.

I stared straight into his eyes, my gaze had a hard edge to it, searching for whatever was going on in that mind of his.

His expression gave away nothing, and eventually I was forced to stop searching.

So quietly, he spoke, “Well, I know this is a…bad time to ask, and you don’t have to answer immediately, but…I really and honestly like you. I want to know if you’d consider going out with me sometime. As a formal…date.”

He looked down, blushing slightly. I boldly reached out for his hand.

“Tom, listen to me,” he looked back up at me as I spoke, “In no way am I turning you down. In fact, I like the sound of your offer,” I stared him straight in the face as he smiled softly, “but I need some time to think through what the hell kind of mess I just made for myself.”

He looked away, “I figured as much.”

I kissed him on the cheek, which made his expression go slack again.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Tommy,” I whispered against his cheek. I hugged him, and got up to find Christine.

She had the keys and I needed to get my girls together for a heart-to-heart.

Three hours later, Brittany, Erin, Christine, Aimee and I were sprawled out on the floor in front of my TV, braiding my dog’s long hair. He, being the patient old thing he is, took it with dignity.

I had avoided the Tom thing at all costs, despite my friends’ persistent badgering.

A foreboding silence was raised after a meaningless conversation about Disney Movies being turned into video games. I decided that it was time that I brought up my mess.

“Tom asked me out,” I stated.

I thought Brittany’s brain was going to fall out of her mouth.

Erin squealed and Aimee urged me to say yes to his offer.

“Wait, wait, wait! But…I like Ryan”, I mumbled.

Erin’s head shot up from Aimee’s lap, “SHE CRACKS!” She pumped her fist in the air, causing the bowl of popcorn resting on her stomach to tip over. My dog eagerly cleaned it up for her, of course.

Brittany, being the voice of reason said, “Then tell him no.”

I groaned, “There’s my real problem. I like Tom too…”, I mumbled the last part.

Christine’s mouth formed a perfect “O” in realization.
Brittany’s fly-trap mouth finally closed as she thought about how to put together some coherent sentences.

“Well….,” she slowly began, “since Ryan’s being a retard and went out with Julie, why don’t you just go out with Tom?” She practically hissed the girl’s name.

Aimee spoke up again, “Yeah, to hell with Ryan and his Male PMS!” She waved an arm around wildly for effect. What effect? I don’t honestly know.

I checked the clock. ‘1:19 AM’ the harsh, green glare of the digital kitchen clock read.

I told Tom that I’d call him tomorrow, didn’t I? And technically, it is tomorrow.

I made my decision. “Erin, hand me my phone.”

They smiled at me like serial killers with the wrong verdict - ‘not guilty’.

Erin practically chucked my phone at me, I had to shield my face to prevent it from breaking my nose or something….

I opened my phone, and slowly scrolled down the contacts list, trying to muster the nerve to actually press talk.

I figured that he wouldn’t be asleep yet, his internal clock was probably still a few hours off.

I finally found “TOMMYPANTS” (you can very much blame Christine), and took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing”, I mumbled.

The phone rang one and a half times before Tom picked up, “Hello?” I heard movement, then the muffled voice of Tom, “Bill, what the hell, get off the floor!” Then Bill shouted back at him in German.

I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Sorry about that…”, he sounded tired.

I smiled, even if he couldn’t see me, “I figured you weren’t asleep yet.”

“Haha, damn jet-lag,” he said. And the awkward ensues.

My friends were staring me down, waiting for me to tell him what he wanted to hear.

“Anyways, there is a purpose to this call,” I bit my lip.

I could imagine the smirk on his face.

“And what is that, my dear,” he silkily stated.

I wanted to melt.

Hardly hiding the nervous tremor in my voice, I responded, “I want to accept your offer. I’m going to let you take me out. On a date.”

He tried hiding his excitement, but just missing the mark. “Cool,” he said semi-smoothly.

I wanted so badly to giggle.

“So, when and where, Sir TommyPants?”

I could hear the cringe in his voice at the nickname, lovingly bestowed upon him by Christine and Aimee.

“Six o’clock, Friday night. Dress nicely.”

I whined, “But where are we going?”

“For me to know, and you to find out Friday. Now, goodnight,” he said, and hung up.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it.

The screen flashed at me letting me know it hung up.

I snapped it shut and continued to stare at it.

“So?” Christine practically shook, trying to contain herself. I slowly turned and stared back at her blankly.

Aimee shook my shoulder. “What. Did. He. Say?” she spoke slowly, as if speaking to a half-deaf person.

“Six PM. Friday. Dress nicely,” I mumbled in a monotone.

A collective “squee” began, probably waking the entire neighborhood.

And despite my hesitance to go through on this, I was kind of excited.

Oh dear God, what have I done now?