My little Squeaky Toy Pt. 3
You held your phone pressed to your chest as if it was the most valuable thing all over the world. Well, maybe it was. At least, Tom had touched it while typing in his number. The smile that had lingered on his face just then had turned your world upside down. How could one man be so stunningly beautiful and so incredibly handsome at the same time? At that moment you hadn’t even realized when he had raised his voice again. He had had to nudge you to get your attention from his body and smile back to what came out of his mouth.
And then he had leaned down and had hugged you for what had felt like an eternity. An eternity that had been over way too fast. You could still feel his strong arms wrapped around your waist and shoulder, the sweet but masculine scent that had lingered in the air, the warmth of his body as he had literally crushed you in your hug. It had been so simple, yet it had just felt right. Tight, but not too tight and oh so gentle. He had held you as if you might have broken if he had clutched too hard.
“I will text you, then.” He had said as you two had separated again. “Be careful on your way home. Don’t let anyone hurt you.” You had blushed at his words but nodded quickly.
Waiting for your phone to vibrate, signalizing that it had received a message, you sat in your living room.
Shortly after you had arrived back home, you had called your best friend because, hell yes, of course you needed to tell her. Desperately. The positivity and all the stupid wonderful feelings inside wanted to be released and shared. But only with someone who you could definitely and absolutely trust. And maybe, but just perhaps, you hoped for a bit of support while waiting for Tom’s first message.
You weren’t even sure if you were able to answer should he finally text you. There was the great possibility that you would merely stare at your phone, too mesmerized by whatever he would have written.
Maybe he was busy right now. A meeting with people of his agency or perhaps he had to read through a new script. You couldn’t help but find the thought of Tom, sitting on a couch and flicking through papers over papers while continuously highlighting and noting things down, more than just a little bit endearing.
The doorbell made you cringe at first, but you were quick to recover from the initial shock and put your phone down. It had rung a second time until you had made your way to the door and opened it to welcome your friend.
“Finally! I nearly thought you fell asleep on your way.” (Y/F) beamed with joy. “How was the art gallery?”
“Don’t you want to come in before asking all the questions?”
She laughed and bounced into your apartment, pulling off her jacket and shoes to toss them carelessly on your wardrobe.
“Now come on, let’s get comfortable.” Without waiting for your response, she already headed towards your living room. “And get some glasses. I brought red wine with me because I know you have to tell me something important.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you and put the bottle on the table.
“Yes, sort of…” You fumbled a bit too long with the glasses, to hide the consistent blush on your cheeks and face. It was not a “I’m standing right in front of Tom”-blush, nevertheless it was eye-catching.
“Stop fumbling with those glasses now and get your ass over here.”
“Stop mocking me!” It was with her that you could somehow speak more freely, and not had to feel anxious and worried about what you were saying.
With two glasses in your hands you walked over to (Y/F) and put them down onto the table, before finally sitting down.
“So, what happened?” Seemingly proficient she let the cork of the bottle pop and poured a good amount of wine in both her and your glass. “It can’t be something bad, right?”
“Guess who I met today?” You took your glass and glanced at your hands. By the short silence that followed your words you were almost able to know exactly what she would say next.
“Oh no you did not!” Her voice sounded outraged, but you knew you were still moving in a safe zone. “That Tom? The Tom you met in London?”
“Yes, and now a second time.” You bit your lower lip in a faint attempt to not smile that stupid grin that had lingered on your face since the first day Tom and you had met in the middle of the night.
“Don’t tell me you gave him another one of your squeaky toys again.” Obviously, it was a joke, but you could not restrain yourself from at least trying to look offended at her words.
“I did not. We talked. And he gave me his number… and his business card.” A slightly uneasy feeling started to tingle within you, yet you brushed it aside as good as possible and handed the small card over to (Y/F). All of a sudden you were happy that the card didn’t give away information about where Tom lived. Although you didn’t quite know why that should be worrying you.
“How dare you?! How dare you didn’t tell me who he really is!” One of the cushions of your couch landed in your face and you hurried to put the wine glass down before it could break.
“You knew the whole time and didn’t say one word?! What kind of friend are you?!” She hit you again with the pillow she had picked up from your couch.
“Sorry.” You muttered through slightly gritted teeth. You knew that she wasn’t actually mad.
“It’s okay. Just tell me the fucking truth right from the beginning next time.” Another playful bash with the soft pillow. “You know, I’m your best friend. You shouldn’t be scared to trust me with something like that.”
“I do trust you. I just had to sort myself out before I could talk to anyone, I guess.”
Her sharp gaze softened at that. You had known each other for years now. That was why she was indeed aware of why you behaved how and when. She wouldn’t make a fuzz about it, because she understood that your intention hadn’t been to upset or hurt her.
“Hon’, come here. You know that I will always be here for you, don’t you?” Instead of hitting you again, (Y/F) dropped the pillow and pulled you in for a hug. “So, what exactly happened?”
“He asked me out for dinner.”
“Then why are you still here?” She raised one of her eyebrows, her tone skeptical.
“Because I had a train to catch, that’s why we exchanged numbers.”
“God damnit. It’s a pity that London isn’t in our neighborhood.”
At that moment, your phone, which you had placed on the table earlier, vibrated a few times and then went still again. Your heart skipped a beat and all your attention was momentarily on the small device.
“He hasn’t written yet, huh? Go on, then. I want to know, too.” (Y/F) giggled and scooted closer, so she would be able to easily glimpse at your screen, too.
Hesitant, you reached for your phone and opened your inbox. It couldn’t possibly be, could it? So soon? Did he really care about you?
The name glowed in black letters on your screen, but you felt unable to move, unable to do anything more than simply staring at your phone.
“What are you waiting for? Open it!”
Startled, you tipped on the message.
Hello, this is Tom. I just wanted to ask if you arrived safely and if you are well. Love.
“Oh my god, he’s cute. How can you be so lucky? Jeez.”
You didn’t really listen to her at first, too busy staring at the words in front of you. ‘Love’. He hadn’t used ‘greetings’, but instead of that ‘love’. Should you pay attention to that? Or was it just his usual gentleman-self showing?
“You have to answer him like right now.” (Y/F) seemed to be giddier than before, but you couldn’t blame her for that, because you felt similar, you just simply didn’t know what to say. You wanted to scream, to cry and to laugh all at the same time.
“But he will know that I have spent the last hours waiting for his message.” Uncertainty and excitement both lingered in your voice, making it throaty in the process.
“No excuses. Plus, it sounds like he is really worried about you. So, answer.”
Of course, you could ask her for advice on what to exactly write, but you wanted your answer to sound like yourself and not like a combination of two persons.
Hello! Thank you for your message! I’m fine, and safe at home, thank you. How are you? – Love.
Oh gosh. That sounded way too formal, way too stiff, but you had already pressed the button to send it.
“That sounds like a teenager writing a mail to his teacher.” Bluntly, (Y/F) stared at what you had just texted back. “But I wouldn’t have done any better myself.”
That reassured you a bit that you weren’t completely incapable of human interaction and communication. “It’s too stiff, isn’t it?”
“It’s not that bad, honestly. Perhaps a tiny little bit, but I’m sure he will understand.”
Tom didn’t give you a chance to properly answer to (Y/F)’s statement, before your phone vibrated again, signalizing yet another message that he had sent you.
“See, he’s as fast to respond as you are.” (Y/F) soothed you and leaned back on the couch, obviously pleased with the current situation.
I’m relieved to hear that. I have been worrying for a while, to be truly honest.
There is no need to be worried. But thank you.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll leave you two alone then.” Pulling herself up, (Y/F) flashed on a cheeky grin, before heading towards the wardrobe and dressing up again.
“What? No – you don’t have to!” You hurried into the corridor and watched her put on her jacket with a pang of guilt.
“It’s okay, really. Talk to him now. I’ll question you about every detail tomorrow.” She winked and turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. “You can keep the red wine. I’m sure you will need it.” And with that she went down the staircase of the building. You could hear her humming until the door of the ground floor fell shut.
Deciding that everything was fine and that you definitely hadn’t just kicked her out, you turned and went back into your living room, curling up on your couch and clutching your phone as if it was the most precious thing you had ever seen.
There is plenty to worry about. First, you travelled all by yourself with the train and that for several hours. And secondly, there could have been an accident. I’m glad you are home.
You chuckled. He let it sound like you had just fought a war without any help, although you had merely sat in a train for a few hours and read and listened to music most of the time.
Sorry. I may have overreacted. Came his next message only seconds later.
It’s okay. I’m still alive, if that knowledge soothes your nerves. Writing was so much easier than actually talking to him. Though you definitely preferred the latter, just because you loved looking at his face and the bright smile that would show up every now and then.
You spent the entire evening sitting on the couch, occasionally sipping a bit of red wine, watching TV (on which you could barely focus) and waiting for his replies. The phone ever present and within reach next to you, so you would notice every new text that you received.
You had never been someone to answer especially quickly, but at that evening everything was different. Tom had successfully managed to not only change your feelings and emotions, but everything else as well. You felt more enthusiastic, more beautiful, more inspired and so much happier than ever before. You didn’t know what it was like for Tom, but for you it had become a small miracle that brightened up your life.