(no subject)
Someone asked me the other day how long it took me to write a chapter. Hours? Days? *g* It amused me to think of a time when I didn't get up at seven in the morning to spend three hours just editing a chapter for posting. Oh the joy of writing!
No, but seriously, this story makes me so freaking happy :D Thanks to everyone who reads!
Title: The Best Laid Plans (6/?)
Genre: Het with a side of twins gen
Pairing: Tom/OFC
Rating: NC17
Summary: Tom has been looking over the fence at the neighbors' daughter for months. Unfortunately, the girl likes Bill. What's a horny guitarist to do?
“Who do those fuckers think they are?”
They’d been home for an hour, but Tom was still no closer to calming down than he had been when they’d left the Universal office after two stressful days and one upsetting talk in Berlin. He paced back and forth along the edge of the living room carpet, shouting at the phone which lay on the coffee table, connecting them with Georg and Gustav back in Magdeburg. The two had left for home after the meeting with a promise to rehash the discussion they’d had later.
Later was here now, and Tom still felt like he was going to explode. It had all been too much: weeks of sexual frustration, anxious tiptoeing around the neighborhood, always on the lookout for the girl, and now this. Tom really hated the business part of his job. Come to think of it, he hated women too.
He didn’t even really like Bill right then; Bill was being entirely too calm about the whole thing. “They’re our bosses,” Bill said. He made a wild grab for Tom as Tom paced past him, but clutched only at thin air.
“So they think.” Gustav’s voice came, crackling, from the speaker. “Just for the record, I agree with everything you said, man. They never held up their end of the contract, so they can’t fault us for trying to raise attention. If they don’t agree with how we do it, they should shell out for some promotion.”
“That’s right,” Tom fumed. In passing, he smacked Bill, who sat on the couch inspecting his manicure. “How can you be so calm? We swore we’d never let anyone talk down to us like that again when we left school.”
“Relax. I have to be able to take it, I’m the front man,” Bill told him. “And besides, I dished it out too, don’t you think?”
That was true, and Tom had, too, but after a while he’d been so indignant he hadn’t been able to form a coherent sentence at all, only sputter with rage, and that didn’t help matters when their bosses were already treating them like badly behaved children. Bill had stood up to the Universal executives when they started berating him for his extravagant tour props and ended up blaming the entire exploded budget on him, but Tom still wanted to rip them limb from limb. No one got to yell at Bill, except him. And, occasionally, Gustav and Georg.
Bill waited until Tom was passing by the couch again, then he grabbed a corner of his oversized t-shirt and reeled him in like a fish on the hook. He was surprisingly strong when he wanted something, and Tom found himself being forced down onto the couch, one of his twin’s hands coming to rest on each of his twitching knees. “Come here. Relax.”
“No,” Tom protested. “I don’t want to relax. They were way out of line! I still think we should’ve just walked out of there.” He still felt riled up, but Bill was leaning into him now, patting him like a fond mother would a cranky baby, and Tom felt soothed in spite of himself. It was faintly ridiculous, but if not for Bill, he would have gotten up and left as soon as the dressing-down began.
These days, Tom sorely lacked in patience.
“We’re going to. Eventually. Their days with us are numbered and they know it.”
“Yeah. You’d think they’d be a little nicer,” Tom snarked.
“They’re trying to intimidate us.” Bill looked at the phone. “It’s not working, is it, guys? You’re still on board with Plan B?”
“Are you kidding? It’s going to take more than some suit to make me stop wanting to make music,” Gustav stated, and Georg, too, grunted in agreement. “I’ve spent my best years getting you three clowns potty trained and stage ready. You’ve spoiled me for sane coworkers. I’m not giving up now! Georg?”
“Home already feels too quiet,” Georg said. “I couldn’t stand my entire life being like this.”
Bill smiled. “I love you too, you guys.”
“And Tom, calm down,” Gustav told him. “We’re going to figure something out. Are we still on for the conference call with David tomorrow? Or should we move it up to today?”
“Nah, let’s all calm down and have a think first,” Bill said. “Tomorrow’s good enough.”
“We’ll talk to you then,” Georg agreed. “I’m going to see Janina now, so unless it’s an emergency, no one call me for the rest of the day, okay?”
The others chuckled. “You’re so whipped,” Tom told his friend. “Pathetic.”
“Look who’s talking,” Georg said cheerfully. “The man who has managed to cockblock himself.”
“The man who can’t get laid,” Gustav added. They both laughed.
“Guys,” Bill said warningly, “he’s making the face again. Stop.”
‘The face’ was an invention of Bill’s; it must be, because Tom refused to admit he looked as lovesick and hurt as the others claimed.
“Aw,” Georg chuckled, but he sounded reassuring when he said, “She will call, Tom. Don’t worry. She’d be the first to resist the Kaulitz charm. Just let her figure out where she stands. You rejected her, after all.”
“I didn’t reject her.” Tom found his voice quavered pitifully and quickly clamped his mouth shut.
“But that’s what it must’ve felt like,” Georg said. “Just give her some time. She’ll call.”
“And if she doesn’t, maybe that’s your cue to stop lying to her and start over. As yourself,” Gustav advised.
“Since when are you the relationship expert?” Tom snapped.
“I’m the only one in this band who’s never pined for some girl. Or guy,” Gustav said. “So there. I’m obviously doing something right.”
Tom didn’t like the logic of that. “I’m not pining!”
The other three groaned. “Of course not,” Bill said soothingly. “Until tomorrow, guys. Bye!”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” was Gustav’s customary, never-heeded advice. “Really now, Tom!”
“Bye!” Tom snapped, and pressed the button to end the call.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, only Tom’s harsh breathing interrupting the quiet. It should’ve been peaceful: they were at home, safely locked away, and it was a beautiful day that they could spend doing whatever the fuck they wanted. Yet, Tom had never felt so wound up.
“It had to happen eventually,” Bill said at last. He patted Tom’s knee. “Universal getting pissed. We did try to provoke them.”
“Enough to break the contract?” Tom wondered.
“I don’t know.” Bill tilted his head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Huh. There’s a stain up there. I wonder what that is. Was there a stain before Gustav and Georg visited?”
Tom looked up too. There was a weird brown blotch on the ceiling, right next to the lamp. “Huh. Must’ve been Georg. Projectile diarrhea or something.”
They snickered companionably.
“Maybe I should come out, talk to Bild, ask them to run one of their silly ’Find the perfect match for Bill!’ features. Except with guys, this time.” Bill grinned. “That’d surely put the suits over the edge.”
Tom shook his head. “When you come out, it’s not going to be to piss Universal off.”
Bill gave him a long, sideways glance. “Right,” he said softly. “Thanks.”
“For what?” Tom asked gruffly. He felt his twin’s hand on his arm, stroking softly back and forth.
“Looking out for me,” Bill said. “You’re right, there must be another way.”
Tom nodded. He thought of all the ways Bill had already put himself in the line of fire over the years, the way he’d stood up for the band today. It wasn’t okay that he’d have to be the face of Tom’s fumbling attempts to seduce a girl, too. “I wonder if I’d have a chance with Erika as me - me me - if I broke things off with her as you,” he muttered. Somehow he couldn’t bear saying it out loud, make the tentative thoughts that had been swirling in his mind a reality by putting them in the shape of firm words and actions. “Like Gustav said?”
“You don’t need to break things off if you just tell her the truth,” Bill said, following along with Tom’s train of thought readily. “It’s overdue, Tom. I’d like to leave the house again eventually without having to be afraid of ruining your game.”
Tom huffed. “But it’d be much easier if she never had to find out I was you.”
“It’d be a lie.” Bill looked at him, doubtful. “Do you really want to live like that? She’s not stupid, she’ll figure it out sooner or later. She’ll realize I’m not the same guy she dated when you bring her over.”
Tom sighed.
“If you ask me--” Bill started wisely.
“I’m not asking you.”
Bill harrumphed. “Then why’d you bring it up? If you ask me, you have two options. Either you tell her and maybe, maybe get a chance that she’ll still like you even though you have a five-head and you dress like shit and actually look nothing like me, not to mention that you’re a sexist pig--”
“Thanks,” Tom grumbled. “You’re supposed to like me, you know.”
“I love you more than anything,” Bill said. He clutched at Tom’s arm, excitement warming his voice now. “And I want you to be happy. If you’ll just listen to me--”
“Yeah, yeah!” Tom snapped. “What’s the other option?”
“Break up with her right now,” Bill said evenly. “Cut her off completely. Then she won’t ever have to find out who she really dated, and she can go on to hate us both.”
Tom frowned. He didn’t like the idea of telling Erika the truth, but breaking up with her seemed infinitely more terrifying, and not just because Tom sucked at break ups. He simply didn’t want to. He didn’t even want to think about looking across the hedge, up at her window, and knowing there was nothing waiting for him anymore, nothing to look forward to and dream about when he lay in bed at night, alone. He wasn’t strong enough to give it all up; if he had to lose it, she’d have to take it away from him. He wouldn’t let go without a fight.
“I can’t break up with her,” he said miserably. “I can’t.”
“You like her.” Bill sounded unduly delighted at that, as if there was any real hope of things working out now. “You actually like her.”
Tom chewed on his lower lip in agitation. He did like her; that was why he had put up the ridiculous façade of faux Bill for her in the first place, a Bill who wasn’t even that much like Bill, but more a gentler, less cautious version of Tom. The problem was that she didn’t know the difference; it was all appearances to her, and Tom feared that if he revealed himself for who he really was now, he’d never get a chance to show her how much he truly cared about her.
“Okay, I like her.” Admitting it actually made him cringe. “I want her. In ways I can’t have her as you. I can’t sleep with her pretending I’m you. I just…it wouldn’t work. I want to be me when I do that.”
“You are you,” Bill said gently. “You’re always you.”
“Not to her.” Tom stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. “Oh god, what do I do?”
“I’ve thought about this,” Bill began.
“Why am I not surprised?” Tom muttered.
Bill pinched his ribs, hard enough that Tom squealed like a piglet. “I think you should just spring it on her. Better make it quick. Invite her over for dinner, order some really, really nice food, and then sit her down and talk to her. As you. In your own voice, with your own stupid clothes on.”
Tom pulled up his legs and hugged his knees, curling in on himself as best as he could. He’d thought about it, doing what Bill suggested, imagined a hundred different ways it could go; none of them had been good. He hid his head against his knees. “And what if she hates me and never talks to me again?” he asked in a small voice.
“That is a possibility,” Bill admitted.
“It can’t be.” Tom shook his head. “I couldn’t stand it.”
There was a pregnant pause. “Fuck,” Bill said at last. “I didn’t realize you had it so bad.”
Tom shrugged jerkily.
“Okay, that’s it. I want to meet her, really meet her.” Bill’s chin set tightly. “Call her right now, ask her to come over, and we’ll tell her together. It’s going to be okay.”
“No.” Tom’s head snapped up. “If I have to tell her, I want to do it by myself. When the time is right.”
“When will the time ever be right?” Bill asked, but his determined expression softened when Tom sighed. “Seriously, Tom, you have to tell her the truth eventually, might as well do it now.”
“Why?” Tom moaned. “Why can’t you let me take the easy way out, just this once? We’ve never had it easy. I want this.”
“And I want you to have it. But the right way.”
“Maybe this is the right way for me,” Tom argued.
“No, it’s not,” his twin said without the shadow of a doubt.
Tom huffed. “Why not?”
“Because you’re not being true to who you are,” Bill said gently.
“We’re the same,” Tom protested. “You always said so.”
“I know. We are.” Bill reached his long, spindly arms around Tom and hugged him. “But to everyone else, we’re two completely different people, and she’d want to know.”
“She’ll be mad,” Tom prophesied darkly. “I lied to her, all this time. I lied to get in her pants.”
“But you didn’t get in her pants. And you didn’t say anything to her you didn’t mean, did you?” Bill shrugged when Tom shook his head. “So there. I’m sure she’ll come around.”
“Maybe.” Tom chewed on his lip. “But not today, okay? I need more time.”
“You’ll always want more time,” Bill pointed out. “We can do it together. I’ll help you. You can just nod along with everything I say.”
“And how pathetic would I look?”
“It’d still be better than doing it alone, wouldn’t it.”
Tom didn’t know about that; if they did it Bill’s way, Tom would look like an asshole and, worse, a coward.
He disentangled himself from Bill’s embrace, unfolded his long limbs and stood. He needed some fresh air to clear his head. “I’m going to mow the lawn,” he announced.
Bill stared at him, an eyebrow raised. “What, voluntarily?”
“It’s good exercise, okay?”
“That’s crazy,”Bill said, aghast. “Seriously now, Tom, are you okay?”
Tom’s mouth made a thin, wobbly line. “I don’t know. Not really.”
Bill held out his arms. “Come here. It’s okay, we don’t need to do anything about Erika today. Whatever you need. Come here.”
But Tom couldn’t sit still for one more moment. “Just let me go mow the fucking lawn, okay?”
Bill let him without further comment.
It was late afternoon, but the sun was still burning down hotly on the garden when Tom opened the patio door. It was too warm for strenuous physical activity, but he felt as if he’d explode like an overinflated ball of stress if he didn’t let off some steam. He stripped off his hoodie, then the layers of t-shirts he wore underneath. Under the thick cords of his dreads, the back of his neck felt moist with sweat already. Tom rubbed at it, feeling the tense muscles there. He really did need a workout. Maybe then he could actually sleep tonight.
Anxiety over the meeting had kept him up late last night, and even after he’d fallen asleep, he’d tossed and turned. No matter how many hotels they stayed in, Tom never got used to the discomfort of a strange bed, the shadows that chased each other across his walls in an unfamiliar room. They’d stayed at the Ritz while they were in Berlin, as usual, but no amount of luxury could soothe Tom’s soul.
He wanted back home.
Why he did, though, he couldn’t even say. Erika hadn’t called since their last, spectacularly anticlimactic date. That had been Sunday; it was now Friday, and Tom was slowly beginning to realize what it felt like to have failed.
He didn’t like it, not one bit.
Huffing, he walked around the corner of the house to the garden shed, the sun burning on the bare skin of his chest. The twins tanned easily, but Tom’s body hadn’t actually seen the light of day in a while; he’d probably get a sunburn, but right then, he couldn’t seem to care. He dragged the lawn mower out of the shed and around the house, back to the patio.
There, on the plastic table, a bottle of sunscreen, a black scrunchie and one of his caps were waiting for him, having miraculously appeared out of nowhere. Tom snatched the scrunchie happily, dragging up his dreads into a ponytail, which fit perfectly through the hole in his old cap. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of revisiting his hat drawer, which was full of suitable headwear again now that he had the dreads back. He tugged at the short ponytail, the weight of it new and yet familiar on his head.
“Thanks,” he called out, low, certain that he’d be heard.
“I’m making margaritas,” Bill’s voice came from the kitchen. “Don’t be too long, it’s too fucking hot out there.”
Tom felt his spirits lift a bit. He considered going back inside and forgoing the hassle of gardening, but the lawnmower was out here now, and he really did need a bit of physical activity. If it’d been up to him, it would’ve been of a different kind, but after his failed attempt to do the right fucking thing with Erika, he’d probably never get laid again. She’d spoiled girls for him.
Frowning, Tom sprayed himself with sunscreen, then fired up the mower. He cut the grass around the patio first, then began to push the machine across the lawn along the full length of the garden, working methodically to make long, tidy rows in the grass that had grown high under the summer weather.
He worked for a while, sweating and cursing at the dandelion that grew all over and got stuck in the mower when a glimpse of movement at the periphery of his vision startled him. Something pink flitted past the hedge in the neighbors’ garden, visible through the branches. Tom turned his head to look, his stomach dropping with sudden terror and joy, and then, there she was: Erika, staring unabashedly over the door in the hedge for a moment before she waved and smiled at him.
A part of him wanted to ignore her as she’d ignored him for the past few days. The other part was already moving, switching of the lawnmower, walking towards the hedge as if drawn by an invisible string that she held in her pretty little hands. He couldn’t resist; it had been too long, and the sight of her was refreshing like a drink of water on this hot day.
“Hi!” she called as he approached the door. She seemed happy to see him for some reason: her face lit up in a bright smile, and her eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked him up and down.
If he’d upset her staring on those days when she was splashing around in the pool, turnabout was now fair play. Sweat was glistening on his bare chest and pooling at the small of his back, and Tom felt gross and unattractive and all too vulnerable without the shell of his oversized clothes to retreat into as he walked over. “Hey,” he said, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand.
“Hey yourself.” She stepped up close to the door, her fingers curling around the edge. She was so short that only her golden head looked over the door that hit Tom somewhere in the middle of the chest; she would fit so perfectly under his arm. Her face was pink with the heat, and he wondered if she’d feel as hot as she looked if he reached out and touched her.
He walked up to peer surreptitiously over the edge of the door, a remark about her week-long silence on his tongue, took one good look and almost keeled over at the sight. Bikini, bikini, bikini, his inner voice chanted, his coherent brain sputtered and died as all his blood rushed south, and all Tom could do was stand and stare, his vision fuzzy and pink around the edges, rose-tinted and glorious.
Erika cleared her throat. “How are you doing, Tom?”
Tom’s head snapped up. She raised a sardonic eyebrow at him, and he quickly tried to shake off the lust-induced haze. “Um, I’m okay.”
“You sure?” A tiny smile played around her lips. “You look…hot.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. He’d had enough experience to know when a girl was flirting with him, and the fact that she would stand here with him and smile like that when she hadn’t called ‘Bill’ in days made the earlier annoyance flare up again inside. The power she had over him, the pull of attraction, was strong, but he was stronger. “So where have you been?” he asked. “Bill said he hadn’t heard from you in a while.”
It was horribly needy to be fishing like this, and rude too. Her saucy smile faded and gave way to a look of irritation that rivalled his. “I was busy.” Her chin tilted defiantly. “I had classes all week. It’s the last week of term, I had papers to hand in.”
“And you couldn’t pick up the phone and call? Just once?” His tone was too sharp, but Tom felt too riled up to stop himself. The whole day had been a fucking mess, and now this. He hadn’t known how much her absence had hurt him until now that he was looking at her. The hollow ache inside that had plagued him all week felt like a gaping wound, as if she was tearing into him with the wrath of an ancient goddess, her eyes sparking blue fire and threatening to burn him alive with a mere look. It was all messed up, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing that’d make her like him, nothing--
“What is wrong with you?” she asked angrily. She reached an arm over the door and thumped him in the chest, and the pain inside faded with the sharp blow to his body. “Are you always like this or did you just have a bad day?”
Tom looked down and saw a faint pink spot the size of a small fist blossom on his chest. His skin prickled where she’d touched him and, in spite of himself, he felt his body react. A shiver raced down his spine, lingered in his toes, made him fidget. “I’m fucking pissed off!” he snapped.
“Why?” Her brow creased. “What happened? You weren’t like this the last time I talked to you.” She sounded genuinely concerned.
He huffed, arms falling to his sides as his shoulders slumped. He couldn’t yell at someone who wouldn’t even yell back. “Bad day at the office.”
“You have an office?”
“Our record company’s,” he said. “In Berlin.”
“Oh?” There was a click as the latch on her side of the door was slid back. The door opened and Erika stepped through. She looked fucking spectacular in her pink bikini, even moreso than Tom had thought from the quick glimpse he’d gotten, but what caught his attention now was her hand, reaching out in slow motion to touch his arm. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
His whole body coiled tight beneath the gentle touch of her fingers on his skin. “I can’t… It’s just… We’re bound by a contract we’re trying to get out of,” he explained hesitantly. Even talking about it was a breach of that very contract. “Our bosses are assholes.”
She nodded solemnly. “Isn’t there anything you could do? Talk to a lawyer--”
“We have. We’re working on it. But it’s annoying.” He chanced a look at her. She didn’t look upset with him, just sympathetic. “Makes me fucking crazy,” he admitted, low.
“I don’t understand why anyone would want to force an artist into a contract,” she agreed. “But my dad would probably say it’s necessary. There’s lots of money at stake. But that shouldn’t be what it’s all about, should it. You need your freedom.”
Surprised, he nodded. He hadn’t expected her to get it. “Yeah.”
She smiled a little. “I’m sorry you had a bad day. I could tell you were upset. That’s why I thought you’d maybe like to chat.” She ducked her head, peering at her bare toes. “And I am going to call Bill later tonight. I know it’s been a few days. I’ve missed him. I just, I haven’t done the dating thing in a while, and it’s… He’s not like any other guy I’ve ever been with, you know? I needed a little while to remind myself how that’s a good thing. A great thing!”
Tom bit his lip. Her opinion of Bill, of him, was humbling. “You don’t have to explain. It’s, uh, none of my business.”
“I know you’re close,” she said. “It’s okay. I’m sure he told you about Sunday.”
“Yeah,” Tom said, and she gave an embarrassed little shrug.
“It was a little awkward, I mean, I practically threw myself at him, and when he didn’t… I was embarrassed.” Her cheeks were very pink now. “But that’s part of getting to know someone, right? And now I know him a little bit better. That’s nice.” She smiled.
“Nice,” Tom echoed. It was a fucking mess. If he’d contemplated telling her the truth earlier, now it seemed more impossible than ever.
“Do you think he’s angry that I didn’t call?” Her nose crinkled at the thought. She looked rather adorable with her face scrunched up like a little bunny’s.
Tom found himself smiling. “He was,” he said, “but he isn’t now.”
“You think? Good. I’m glad.” She seemed to relax at that. Her hand that was still at his shoulder stroked down along his arm before she dropped it, raising goosebumps in its wake. The gesture was so casual, so offhanded, that he was sure she hadn’t meant anything by it, but that didn’t stop his stomach from flip-flopping pleasantly.
If Gustav and Georg had been there, they’d have laughed their asses off. How pathetic had he become, to get excited at a girl just touching his arm?
And yet, Tom couldn’t help the flutter inside his belly as he looked down at her, the almost painful urge to raise his arm that still tingled with her touch and stroke her lovely hair in turn. He knew what it felt like to touch it, to hold her in his arms, but it seemed like he couldn’t get enough. And he definitely hadn’t gotten enough of her as himself.
If only… Yeah, if only.
“Do you guys have plans tonight?” she asked, peering up at him curiously from those wide blue eyes, and for one brief, lovely moment, Tom thought she’d invite him over. “I was wondering if Bill wanted to go see a movie or something.”
It felt a little like being an eleven-year-old in school again, and arranging dates with the same girl for them both. Tom stifled a tired sigh. “See a movie? That’s going to take some preparation.” At her confused look, he elaborated, “We can’t just go out like that, or we’ll get mobbed.”
She looked disappointed. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t think of that.”
“You could come over here?” he suggested. “We have a huge movie collection.”
“Thanks, but I should probably ask Bill what he’d like to do,” she said hesitantly.
“I’m sure he’d like that.” He’d better. “What kinds of movies do you like?”
She smiled. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I don’t actually watch a lot of movies. Usually I just sit in bed in my pyjamas and watch the Discovery Channel. They had this great show on the other day about art theft--”
“Wow. Lame,” he teased, and she gasped in mock hurt and retreated behind the door again, on her side of the hedge.
“I’ve seen you with your dogs,” she told him, sniffing. “You probably sit and cry at those documentaries about animal shelters. Or seal hunting.”
“I never cry,” Tom claimed. He did feel a little blue at being deprived of the sight of her in that pink bikini, though.
“We’ll watch one together sometime,” she laughed. “Then we’ll see who’s lame.”
His eyebrows shot up. He never could resist a good challenge. “You got it.”
“Okay.” Her eyes twinkled. “Animal documentaries and pasta. Sounds good.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.” They exchanged a long look.
“So.” Tom found his voice hoarse when he tried to speak. He cleared his throat. “We could do that. Tonight?” He didn’t quite know what they’d do if she agreed - Bill would have to disappear, they’d have to make up some emergency - but they’d figure it out. She only had to say yes to him.
Tom hadn’t wanted anything so badly in a long, long time.
“I need to talk to Bill,” she said. “Maybe I will. I’ll call him.”
His heart sank. He nodded slowly. “I’ll let him know.”
Erika smiled. “Don’t overdo it with that thing.” She jerked her chin at the lawnmower, which stood abandoned on the partly cut grass. “You’ll get heatstroke.”
“Will you perform CPR on me if I do?” The words came out before Tom had a chance to think them over.
She let out a startled little laugh. “I’d probably drag you over here and throw you in the pool. Bye, Tom.” He could hear her giggling long after she’d moved away from the hedge, out of sight. There was a splash, and Tom barely resisted the urge to open that door for a glimpse at the pool, and Erika in the water, her skin wet, that tiny bikini clinging to her skin…
But he had things to do. The lawn wasn’t yet symmetrical, and, if Erika insisted, he - well, ‘Bill’ - would have a date coming up later. Tom wasn’t really in the mood to dress up and pretend, and he didn’t know how he’d break the news of the date to his twin, who’d been moaning just like Tom about wanting to get back home while they were in Berlin, but Bill would just have to go with the flow. At this point, Tom didn’t know how to stop it, anyway.
He wished she’d just agreed to see him, let him make her pasta and watch the funny animal videos he’d bookmarked on Youtube. He could’ve done that. He didn’t know if he could pull off Bill’s teary enthusiasm for girly movies, and, more importantly, he just didn’t want to.
He’d done the skinny jeans, he’d ruined his lip piercing, he’d hidden the dreads. And it still wasn’t enough. As a matter of fact, things had never been worse. The fun times of kindergarten were over; slipping out of his identity and into Bill’s felt like putting on an ill-fitting suit. As alike as they were, as much as they loved each other, they existed in mutual respect of their quirks and differences, and denying those was like shitting all over their souls, their bond, everything Tom considered sacred.
And there was no way out.
Sighing, he made quick work of the grass, then parked the mower in the shed again and shuffled back to the house, longing for a shower and a cool drink. The constant switch back and forth between his normal self and the affected ways of ‘Bill’ was exhausting, and confusing. He didn’t really know what to think now that he’d talked to her as himself and she hadn’t seemed to hate him; he wasn’t sure where to take things with her as Bill when he’d actually liked talking to her, much more than he enjoyed the make-out sessions in Bill-disguise that only ever left him with blue balls.
He walked into the kitchen and found Bill feeding the dogs. He, too, had yielded to the heat and was now only wearing underpants and his jewelry, his hair wet and slicked back. The ingredients for margaritas sat on the counter in a puddle of half-melted ice and condensation, along with Bill’s half-empty glass; Tom picked it up and drained it in one. He sat at the counter, rolling the cool glass between his palms.
“I’ll make a fresh one for you,” Bill told him. “How’d it go? I saw you out there with her.”
“It was…” Tom thought for a moment. He’d snapped at her, taunted her, but by the end, they’d been able to talk halfway normally. They’d even made plans for something like a date, or what would amount to a date anyway if she wasn’t, technically, dating ‘Bill’. “Interesting,” he finished. That, it had been.
“Interesting?” Bill filled a cocktail shaker liberally with tequila, sniffing appreciatively at the sugar-and-liquor mixture before screwing the shaker shut and flailing around the kitchen with it as if he was performing a tribal dance. In Bill’s opinion, there was no situation that didn’t look better after a few margaritas. “How so?”
“I think she doesn’t hate me,” Tom said thoughtfully. “I think I could make her like me if she didn’t already like you. Well, ‘Bill’.” He made air quotes with his fingers.
“Ha!” Bill’s voice was triumphant. “I told you you should just talk to her as yourself. I knew you’d hit it off.”
Tom braced his elbows on the counter, relishing the cold of the stone surface against his arms. “How could you have known that?”
“I know you,” Bill said with a supreme air of wisdom. “She’s pretty, she’s sassy, she likes art and exercise and making pasta. She’s perfect for you, but of course you had to go and fuck it up.”
Tom wished he could deny it, but sadly, Bill wasn’t wrong. He hung his head. “She said she was sorry that she didn’t call all week. That she felt embarrassed, after, you know. Sunday.”
“She felt embarrassed? Bless.” Bill poured Tom a glass of margarita, then drank the rest right from the shaker. “You know, I really like that girl.”
“Me too.” Tom wanted to bash his head against the countertop with the admission.
“I know. I could see how much you enjoyed talking to her.” Bill sighed happily. “And she does have very pretty hair.”
“Hair? Did you see her?” Tom asked. “I mean, her hair’s great, but that bikini!”
Bill shrugged dismissively.
“And she likes you. What a fucking waste,” Tom sighed. “You didn’t even notice her figure, did you.”
“I’m not blind.” Bill grinned. “But for the last time, she doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her like that either. I’ll gladly leave her to you, don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” Tom said dryly. He took a long drink of his cocktail. “None of this makes any sense. Why’d she hate me for looking over the hedge at her, but then parade around in a bikini in front of me?”
“She wants your attention, but on her own terms,” Bill said. “It’s understandable, isn’t it? She doesn’t want you to look at her like a piece of meat, but she still wants you to look.”
“I don’t know.” Tom gave in and laid his warm head on the stone counter to cool off. “Do you think she wants me to look? Me me?”
“Yes,” Bill said immediately. “She wants you to look, all right. Girl’s a flirt. Just like you. You didn’t see the look on her face while she watched you mow the lawn.”
“She watched me?” Tom mulled this over. “But she still wants to be with you? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe she’s confused. Wouldn’t blame her,” Bill said. “What else did she say?”
“She said she was going to call you. Well, me. That she wanted to see you again. Maybe tonight.”
“Tonight? No. Tom!” Bill protested. “We only just got home.”
“Relax. I don’t feel like it either.” Tom felt drained, if anything. The day had been fucking exhausting. “If she’d agreed to meet me… But she didn’t.”
“Hmm,” Bill made thoughtfully around a sip of cocktail. “Have you considered that it might just be a matter of style? Maybe, if you wore some tighter clothes--”
Tom groaned.
“I’m just saying!” Bill argued. “It couldn’t hurt! You could look so pretty if you tried--”
“I don’t want to look pretty,” Tom protested. “And I don’t want tighter clothes! Wearing yours is bad enough.”
Bill put his hands on his hips and huffed. “Would you feel attracted to a woman in a potato sack?”
Tom raised his head off the countertop, glaring. “That’s different. They have parts to show off. Hips. Ass. Legs. Tits.” He sighed forlornly at the thought of a nice pair of breasts. At this rate, he’d probably never get to see any again from up close. “Men’s bodies are boring.”
“I beg to differ,” Bill said dryly. “Seriously, just think about it, Tom. She sure seemed to like the look of you shirtless.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “I can go shirtless,” he conceded. “But I’m not going shopping with you. If that’s what you’re thinking, forget it now.”
Bill’s disappointed look showed that he had indeed been thinking along those lines. “Can we just spend some time together tonight, then? I feel like we haven’t had time for just us in a while. Not really.”
Tom winced. “I know. I’m sorry, okay? I wish I could just make all of this go away, like it never happened. I wish I’d never met her.”
“Aw, don’t say that.” Bill smiled. “I think you’re so cute when you’re in love!”
Tom blushed hotly. “I’m not in… I’m not, okay? Don’t say that.”
“Whatever you say, Tom. What do you want for dinner?” Bill threw open the fridge, rubbing his stomach. “I could go for pasta. Can you get Erika to make something that’s not vegetables next time?”
“I can’t get Erika to do anything,” Tom sighed. “That’s the whole problem, remember?”
Bill glanced at him over his shoulder. “That’s fine,” he said gently. “I’ll just order Italian. Okay?”
Tom nodded. “I’ll go shower. And then I need to talk to her. She said she’d call.”
Bill fished an ice cream cone from the freezer. He peeled off the foil wrapping and proceeded to suck the whole scoop of ice cream into his mouth. “Fffy wnn sser…”
In spite of himself, Tom cracked a smile. “Sorry, there’s so much static on the connection today.”
“I said,” Bill gasped, pulling the cone from his mouth, “if you want to see her, have her come over, I’ll go sit in my room. You don’t have to spend time with me, I don’t want to make you if you’d rather--”
Tom slid off his chair, walked over and thumped Bill hard on the back. “Shut up. That’s just stupid.”
Bill looked gratified at that, even though he had to twist himself like a pretzel trying to rub the sore spot on his back. “Might even be easier, talking to her on the phone,” he pointed out. “Less of a chance of slipping up.”
That was true, although Tom found imitating Bill’s voice on the phone exhausting; it felt like he had to put more of an effort into it when he couldn’t distract her from the fakeness of his performance with gestures and smiles. But then, he couldn’t even remember a time now when seducing a girl had not been exhausting.
“Stop moping,” Bill said, sensing the disturbance in Tom’s mood easily. “Get to it, I’ll have dinner ready by the time you’re done.”
Gratefully, Tom shuffled off to his bathroom, where he stood under the cold spray of the shower for almost fifteen minutes, trying to cool his overheated head and will away the almost constant arousal that had him wound up. Whenever he was beginning to get anywhere, though, the image of Erika in a pink bikini popped up before his mind’s eye and he was back to square one.
He was towelling off when he heard the phone ring, and almost tripped himself up with the towel in his haste as he tossed it into the bathroom corner and ran, naked, into his bedroom. He flung himself on the bed and grabbed the phone off the nightstand. “Hello?”
“Hi, Bill,” Erika said softly, “How are you?” and any hope he’d had of forgetting how damn sexy she was melted away with the heat of her voice. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” The tone was fake; the sentiment was not. Tom closed his eyes, thinking of her bright smile and those sky-blue eyes and all the things he’d wanted to tell her, earlier, but couldn’t say as himself. Now, here, he could finally speak the truth. “I thought I’d ruined everything.”
“You tried to do the right thing,” she protested. “I get it now. I just… I was a little hurt, I guess.”
“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t say how much.
“No, no, don’t be. It’s okay.” There was a small pause. “You were right, we don’t really know each other yet, and I, I really want to.”
“Me too,” Tom sighed.
“Can I see you again?” she asked. “We can just, I don’t know, talk this time. Or I could finish drawing you.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, trying to think of a gracious way to delay. He needed to see where they stood, he and Erika, and for that, he had to play for time as Bill. “Do you have plans for next weekend? You could come over, I’ll throw Tom out…?”
“Next weekend? Oh. I was, well, hoping to see you sooner. But that’s fine.” She seemed anxious to please him; Tom wondered if he’d overdone it with the guilt trip, at the hedge earlier. When she was with him, Tom-as-Tom, she was less pliant, more self-assured. He didn’t know what to think of that. “And you don’t have to throw Tom out, it’s his house too.”
That made him smile. “You talked.”
“He seemed upset.” She sounded almost defensive.
“He was,” Tom agreed. “Thanks for taking care of him.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t very friendly. I may have smacked him, even.”
“He needed it.”
“Well, yeah, happy to help.” There was a moment of silence between them, charged with something Tom couldn’t even begin to define. “What are you doing tonight?” she asked then.
“We have to go over some paperwork.” That was true; their lawyer had sent them a whole stack of papers to read through, but Tom didn’t feel up to it right then. His bed was nice and soft. Sinking through the thick duvet, he felt boneless and tired. He just wanted to lie there forever and listen to the melody of her voice. It was relaxing, almost as if she was right next to him on his own private cloud, his own personal angel.
“That sounds…”
“Awful,” he supplied.
“Yeah.” She laughed. “No chance you’d rather see a movie with me?”
“My brother and I really should work,” he said honestly. He doubted they would, but. It was better than outright lying to her.
“Next weekend, then,” she agreed. If she was disappointed, she didn’t let it on. “I’ll, uh, let you get to it now.”
“Yeah, I should go work.” He was quiet for a moment, listening to her even breaths. “Erika?”
“Hmm?”
Tom bit his lip. “I wish…” He wished he could have her there beside him. He wished he could tell her the truth. He wished he could make her like him, him, as much as he liked her.
His dreams of the future had long been unchanged. They were the reality of his present: being with Bill always, making music with the boys, basking in the glory of success and good fortune. Tom knew how lucky he was; maybe he shouldn’t tempt fate. And yet, here and now, he couldn’t help wishing for something else, something more that had always eluded him ever since the day their father had walked out and never looked back.
He wanted the happy ending.
“You wish…?” a soft voice asked.
For a brief, blissful moment, he let his mind soar freely. He dreamed of sunshine and laughter, warm happy days threaded through with gold and blue, a hand in his, a real home to return to after a long, adventurous journey. He dreamed of long, languid nights, a soft body beneath him, and quiet, peaceful mornings that began with a kiss.
He wanted her to be the one who’d fulfil his heart’s desire; but she was no good fairy. Just a girl. Just a girl he liked who didn’t like him back. “What do you wish, Bill?”
Tom started. He opened his eyes, squinting at the endless white stretch of ceiling above. “I, uh, nothing. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” Erika sighed. “Bill?”
“Hmm?”
“I wish you’d tell me.” She’d hung up before he could reply.
“No you don’t,” Tom told the silent room. He sat up and switched off the phone, then, with a howl of rage, hurled it at the bare wall.
No, but seriously, this story makes me so freaking happy :D Thanks to everyone who reads!
Title: The Best Laid Plans (6/?)
Genre: Het with a side of twins gen
Pairing: Tom/OFC
Rating: NC17
Summary: Tom has been looking over the fence at the neighbors' daughter for months. Unfortunately, the girl likes Bill. What's a horny guitarist to do?
“Who do those fuckers think they are?”
They’d been home for an hour, but Tom was still no closer to calming down than he had been when they’d left the Universal office after two stressful days and one upsetting talk in Berlin. He paced back and forth along the edge of the living room carpet, shouting at the phone which lay on the coffee table, connecting them with Georg and Gustav back in Magdeburg. The two had left for home after the meeting with a promise to rehash the discussion they’d had later.
Later was here now, and Tom still felt like he was going to explode. It had all been too much: weeks of sexual frustration, anxious tiptoeing around the neighborhood, always on the lookout for the girl, and now this. Tom really hated the business part of his job. Come to think of it, he hated women too.
He didn’t even really like Bill right then; Bill was being entirely too calm about the whole thing. “They’re our bosses,” Bill said. He made a wild grab for Tom as Tom paced past him, but clutched only at thin air.
“So they think.” Gustav’s voice came, crackling, from the speaker. “Just for the record, I agree with everything you said, man. They never held up their end of the contract, so they can’t fault us for trying to raise attention. If they don’t agree with how we do it, they should shell out for some promotion.”
“That’s right,” Tom fumed. In passing, he smacked Bill, who sat on the couch inspecting his manicure. “How can you be so calm? We swore we’d never let anyone talk down to us like that again when we left school.”
“Relax. I have to be able to take it, I’m the front man,” Bill told him. “And besides, I dished it out too, don’t you think?”
That was true, and Tom had, too, but after a while he’d been so indignant he hadn’t been able to form a coherent sentence at all, only sputter with rage, and that didn’t help matters when their bosses were already treating them like badly behaved children. Bill had stood up to the Universal executives when they started berating him for his extravagant tour props and ended up blaming the entire exploded budget on him, but Tom still wanted to rip them limb from limb. No one got to yell at Bill, except him. And, occasionally, Gustav and Georg.
Bill waited until Tom was passing by the couch again, then he grabbed a corner of his oversized t-shirt and reeled him in like a fish on the hook. He was surprisingly strong when he wanted something, and Tom found himself being forced down onto the couch, one of his twin’s hands coming to rest on each of his twitching knees. “Come here. Relax.”
“No,” Tom protested. “I don’t want to relax. They were way out of line! I still think we should’ve just walked out of there.” He still felt riled up, but Bill was leaning into him now, patting him like a fond mother would a cranky baby, and Tom felt soothed in spite of himself. It was faintly ridiculous, but if not for Bill, he would have gotten up and left as soon as the dressing-down began.
These days, Tom sorely lacked in patience.
“We’re going to. Eventually. Their days with us are numbered and they know it.”
“Yeah. You’d think they’d be a little nicer,” Tom snarked.
“They’re trying to intimidate us.” Bill looked at the phone. “It’s not working, is it, guys? You’re still on board with Plan B?”
“Are you kidding? It’s going to take more than some suit to make me stop wanting to make music,” Gustav stated, and Georg, too, grunted in agreement. “I’ve spent my best years getting you three clowns potty trained and stage ready. You’ve spoiled me for sane coworkers. I’m not giving up now! Georg?”
“Home already feels too quiet,” Georg said. “I couldn’t stand my entire life being like this.”
Bill smiled. “I love you too, you guys.”
“And Tom, calm down,” Gustav told him. “We’re going to figure something out. Are we still on for the conference call with David tomorrow? Or should we move it up to today?”
“Nah, let’s all calm down and have a think first,” Bill said. “Tomorrow’s good enough.”
“We’ll talk to you then,” Georg agreed. “I’m going to see Janina now, so unless it’s an emergency, no one call me for the rest of the day, okay?”
The others chuckled. “You’re so whipped,” Tom told his friend. “Pathetic.”
“Look who’s talking,” Georg said cheerfully. “The man who has managed to cockblock himself.”
“The man who can’t get laid,” Gustav added. They both laughed.
“Guys,” Bill said warningly, “he’s making the face again. Stop.”
‘The face’ was an invention of Bill’s; it must be, because Tom refused to admit he looked as lovesick and hurt as the others claimed.
“Aw,” Georg chuckled, but he sounded reassuring when he said, “She will call, Tom. Don’t worry. She’d be the first to resist the Kaulitz charm. Just let her figure out where she stands. You rejected her, after all.”
“I didn’t reject her.” Tom found his voice quavered pitifully and quickly clamped his mouth shut.
“But that’s what it must’ve felt like,” Georg said. “Just give her some time. She’ll call.”
“And if she doesn’t, maybe that’s your cue to stop lying to her and start over. As yourself,” Gustav advised.
“Since when are you the relationship expert?” Tom snapped.
“I’m the only one in this band who’s never pined for some girl. Or guy,” Gustav said. “So there. I’m obviously doing something right.”
Tom didn’t like the logic of that. “I’m not pining!”
The other three groaned. “Of course not,” Bill said soothingly. “Until tomorrow, guys. Bye!”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” was Gustav’s customary, never-heeded advice. “Really now, Tom!”
“Bye!” Tom snapped, and pressed the button to end the call.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, only Tom’s harsh breathing interrupting the quiet. It should’ve been peaceful: they were at home, safely locked away, and it was a beautiful day that they could spend doing whatever the fuck they wanted. Yet, Tom had never felt so wound up.
“It had to happen eventually,” Bill said at last. He patted Tom’s knee. “Universal getting pissed. We did try to provoke them.”
“Enough to break the contract?” Tom wondered.
“I don’t know.” Bill tilted his head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Huh. There’s a stain up there. I wonder what that is. Was there a stain before Gustav and Georg visited?”
Tom looked up too. There was a weird brown blotch on the ceiling, right next to the lamp. “Huh. Must’ve been Georg. Projectile diarrhea or something.”
They snickered companionably.
“Maybe I should come out, talk to Bild, ask them to run one of their silly ’Find the perfect match for Bill!’ features. Except with guys, this time.” Bill grinned. “That’d surely put the suits over the edge.”
Tom shook his head. “When you come out, it’s not going to be to piss Universal off.”
Bill gave him a long, sideways glance. “Right,” he said softly. “Thanks.”
“For what?” Tom asked gruffly. He felt his twin’s hand on his arm, stroking softly back and forth.
“Looking out for me,” Bill said. “You’re right, there must be another way.”
Tom nodded. He thought of all the ways Bill had already put himself in the line of fire over the years, the way he’d stood up for the band today. It wasn’t okay that he’d have to be the face of Tom’s fumbling attempts to seduce a girl, too. “I wonder if I’d have a chance with Erika as me - me me - if I broke things off with her as you,” he muttered. Somehow he couldn’t bear saying it out loud, make the tentative thoughts that had been swirling in his mind a reality by putting them in the shape of firm words and actions. “Like Gustav said?”
“You don’t need to break things off if you just tell her the truth,” Bill said, following along with Tom’s train of thought readily. “It’s overdue, Tom. I’d like to leave the house again eventually without having to be afraid of ruining your game.”
Tom huffed. “But it’d be much easier if she never had to find out I was you.”
“It’d be a lie.” Bill looked at him, doubtful. “Do you really want to live like that? She’s not stupid, she’ll figure it out sooner or later. She’ll realize I’m not the same guy she dated when you bring her over.”
Tom sighed.
“If you ask me--” Bill started wisely.
“I’m not asking you.”
Bill harrumphed. “Then why’d you bring it up? If you ask me, you have two options. Either you tell her and maybe, maybe get a chance that she’ll still like you even though you have a five-head and you dress like shit and actually look nothing like me, not to mention that you’re a sexist pig--”
“Thanks,” Tom grumbled. “You’re supposed to like me, you know.”
“I love you more than anything,” Bill said. He clutched at Tom’s arm, excitement warming his voice now. “And I want you to be happy. If you’ll just listen to me--”
“Yeah, yeah!” Tom snapped. “What’s the other option?”
“Break up with her right now,” Bill said evenly. “Cut her off completely. Then she won’t ever have to find out who she really dated, and she can go on to hate us both.”
Tom frowned. He didn’t like the idea of telling Erika the truth, but breaking up with her seemed infinitely more terrifying, and not just because Tom sucked at break ups. He simply didn’t want to. He didn’t even want to think about looking across the hedge, up at her window, and knowing there was nothing waiting for him anymore, nothing to look forward to and dream about when he lay in bed at night, alone. He wasn’t strong enough to give it all up; if he had to lose it, she’d have to take it away from him. He wouldn’t let go without a fight.
“I can’t break up with her,” he said miserably. “I can’t.”
“You like her.” Bill sounded unduly delighted at that, as if there was any real hope of things working out now. “You actually like her.”
Tom chewed on his lower lip in agitation. He did like her; that was why he had put up the ridiculous façade of faux Bill for her in the first place, a Bill who wasn’t even that much like Bill, but more a gentler, less cautious version of Tom. The problem was that she didn’t know the difference; it was all appearances to her, and Tom feared that if he revealed himself for who he really was now, he’d never get a chance to show her how much he truly cared about her.
“Okay, I like her.” Admitting it actually made him cringe. “I want her. In ways I can’t have her as you. I can’t sleep with her pretending I’m you. I just…it wouldn’t work. I want to be me when I do that.”
“You are you,” Bill said gently. “You’re always you.”
“Not to her.” Tom stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. “Oh god, what do I do?”
“I’ve thought about this,” Bill began.
“Why am I not surprised?” Tom muttered.
Bill pinched his ribs, hard enough that Tom squealed like a piglet. “I think you should just spring it on her. Better make it quick. Invite her over for dinner, order some really, really nice food, and then sit her down and talk to her. As you. In your own voice, with your own stupid clothes on.”
Tom pulled up his legs and hugged his knees, curling in on himself as best as he could. He’d thought about it, doing what Bill suggested, imagined a hundred different ways it could go; none of them had been good. He hid his head against his knees. “And what if she hates me and never talks to me again?” he asked in a small voice.
“That is a possibility,” Bill admitted.
“It can’t be.” Tom shook his head. “I couldn’t stand it.”
There was a pregnant pause. “Fuck,” Bill said at last. “I didn’t realize you had it so bad.”
Tom shrugged jerkily.
“Okay, that’s it. I want to meet her, really meet her.” Bill’s chin set tightly. “Call her right now, ask her to come over, and we’ll tell her together. It’s going to be okay.”
“No.” Tom’s head snapped up. “If I have to tell her, I want to do it by myself. When the time is right.”
“When will the time ever be right?” Bill asked, but his determined expression softened when Tom sighed. “Seriously, Tom, you have to tell her the truth eventually, might as well do it now.”
“Why?” Tom moaned. “Why can’t you let me take the easy way out, just this once? We’ve never had it easy. I want this.”
“And I want you to have it. But the right way.”
“Maybe this is the right way for me,” Tom argued.
“No, it’s not,” his twin said without the shadow of a doubt.
Tom huffed. “Why not?”
“Because you’re not being true to who you are,” Bill said gently.
“We’re the same,” Tom protested. “You always said so.”
“I know. We are.” Bill reached his long, spindly arms around Tom and hugged him. “But to everyone else, we’re two completely different people, and she’d want to know.”
“She’ll be mad,” Tom prophesied darkly. “I lied to her, all this time. I lied to get in her pants.”
“But you didn’t get in her pants. And you didn’t say anything to her you didn’t mean, did you?” Bill shrugged when Tom shook his head. “So there. I’m sure she’ll come around.”
“Maybe.” Tom chewed on his lip. “But not today, okay? I need more time.”
“You’ll always want more time,” Bill pointed out. “We can do it together. I’ll help you. You can just nod along with everything I say.”
“And how pathetic would I look?”
“It’d still be better than doing it alone, wouldn’t it.”
Tom didn’t know about that; if they did it Bill’s way, Tom would look like an asshole and, worse, a coward.
He disentangled himself from Bill’s embrace, unfolded his long limbs and stood. He needed some fresh air to clear his head. “I’m going to mow the lawn,” he announced.
Bill stared at him, an eyebrow raised. “What, voluntarily?”
“It’s good exercise, okay?”
“That’s crazy,”Bill said, aghast. “Seriously now, Tom, are you okay?”
Tom’s mouth made a thin, wobbly line. “I don’t know. Not really.”
Bill held out his arms. “Come here. It’s okay, we don’t need to do anything about Erika today. Whatever you need. Come here.”
But Tom couldn’t sit still for one more moment. “Just let me go mow the fucking lawn, okay?”
Bill let him without further comment.
It was late afternoon, but the sun was still burning down hotly on the garden when Tom opened the patio door. It was too warm for strenuous physical activity, but he felt as if he’d explode like an overinflated ball of stress if he didn’t let off some steam. He stripped off his hoodie, then the layers of t-shirts he wore underneath. Under the thick cords of his dreads, the back of his neck felt moist with sweat already. Tom rubbed at it, feeling the tense muscles there. He really did need a workout. Maybe then he could actually sleep tonight.
Anxiety over the meeting had kept him up late last night, and even after he’d fallen asleep, he’d tossed and turned. No matter how many hotels they stayed in, Tom never got used to the discomfort of a strange bed, the shadows that chased each other across his walls in an unfamiliar room. They’d stayed at the Ritz while they were in Berlin, as usual, but no amount of luxury could soothe Tom’s soul.
He wanted back home.
Why he did, though, he couldn’t even say. Erika hadn’t called since their last, spectacularly anticlimactic date. That had been Sunday; it was now Friday, and Tom was slowly beginning to realize what it felt like to have failed.
He didn’t like it, not one bit.
Huffing, he walked around the corner of the house to the garden shed, the sun burning on the bare skin of his chest. The twins tanned easily, but Tom’s body hadn’t actually seen the light of day in a while; he’d probably get a sunburn, but right then, he couldn’t seem to care. He dragged the lawn mower out of the shed and around the house, back to the patio.
There, on the plastic table, a bottle of sunscreen, a black scrunchie and one of his caps were waiting for him, having miraculously appeared out of nowhere. Tom snatched the scrunchie happily, dragging up his dreads into a ponytail, which fit perfectly through the hole in his old cap. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of revisiting his hat drawer, which was full of suitable headwear again now that he had the dreads back. He tugged at the short ponytail, the weight of it new and yet familiar on his head.
“Thanks,” he called out, low, certain that he’d be heard.
“I’m making margaritas,” Bill’s voice came from the kitchen. “Don’t be too long, it’s too fucking hot out there.”
Tom felt his spirits lift a bit. He considered going back inside and forgoing the hassle of gardening, but the lawnmower was out here now, and he really did need a bit of physical activity. If it’d been up to him, it would’ve been of a different kind, but after his failed attempt to do the right fucking thing with Erika, he’d probably never get laid again. She’d spoiled girls for him.
Frowning, Tom sprayed himself with sunscreen, then fired up the mower. He cut the grass around the patio first, then began to push the machine across the lawn along the full length of the garden, working methodically to make long, tidy rows in the grass that had grown high under the summer weather.
He worked for a while, sweating and cursing at the dandelion that grew all over and got stuck in the mower when a glimpse of movement at the periphery of his vision startled him. Something pink flitted past the hedge in the neighbors’ garden, visible through the branches. Tom turned his head to look, his stomach dropping with sudden terror and joy, and then, there she was: Erika, staring unabashedly over the door in the hedge for a moment before she waved and smiled at him.
A part of him wanted to ignore her as she’d ignored him for the past few days. The other part was already moving, switching of the lawnmower, walking towards the hedge as if drawn by an invisible string that she held in her pretty little hands. He couldn’t resist; it had been too long, and the sight of her was refreshing like a drink of water on this hot day.
“Hi!” she called as he approached the door. She seemed happy to see him for some reason: her face lit up in a bright smile, and her eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked him up and down.
If he’d upset her staring on those days when she was splashing around in the pool, turnabout was now fair play. Sweat was glistening on his bare chest and pooling at the small of his back, and Tom felt gross and unattractive and all too vulnerable without the shell of his oversized clothes to retreat into as he walked over. “Hey,” he said, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand.
“Hey yourself.” She stepped up close to the door, her fingers curling around the edge. She was so short that only her golden head looked over the door that hit Tom somewhere in the middle of the chest; she would fit so perfectly under his arm. Her face was pink with the heat, and he wondered if she’d feel as hot as she looked if he reached out and touched her.
He walked up to peer surreptitiously over the edge of the door, a remark about her week-long silence on his tongue, took one good look and almost keeled over at the sight. Bikini, bikini, bikini, his inner voice chanted, his coherent brain sputtered and died as all his blood rushed south, and all Tom could do was stand and stare, his vision fuzzy and pink around the edges, rose-tinted and glorious.
Erika cleared her throat. “How are you doing, Tom?”
Tom’s head snapped up. She raised a sardonic eyebrow at him, and he quickly tried to shake off the lust-induced haze. “Um, I’m okay.”
“You sure?” A tiny smile played around her lips. “You look…hot.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. He’d had enough experience to know when a girl was flirting with him, and the fact that she would stand here with him and smile like that when she hadn’t called ‘Bill’ in days made the earlier annoyance flare up again inside. The power she had over him, the pull of attraction, was strong, but he was stronger. “So where have you been?” he asked. “Bill said he hadn’t heard from you in a while.”
It was horribly needy to be fishing like this, and rude too. Her saucy smile faded and gave way to a look of irritation that rivalled his. “I was busy.” Her chin tilted defiantly. “I had classes all week. It’s the last week of term, I had papers to hand in.”
“And you couldn’t pick up the phone and call? Just once?” His tone was too sharp, but Tom felt too riled up to stop himself. The whole day had been a fucking mess, and now this. He hadn’t known how much her absence had hurt him until now that he was looking at her. The hollow ache inside that had plagued him all week felt like a gaping wound, as if she was tearing into him with the wrath of an ancient goddess, her eyes sparking blue fire and threatening to burn him alive with a mere look. It was all messed up, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing that’d make her like him, nothing--
“What is wrong with you?” she asked angrily. She reached an arm over the door and thumped him in the chest, and the pain inside faded with the sharp blow to his body. “Are you always like this or did you just have a bad day?”
Tom looked down and saw a faint pink spot the size of a small fist blossom on his chest. His skin prickled where she’d touched him and, in spite of himself, he felt his body react. A shiver raced down his spine, lingered in his toes, made him fidget. “I’m fucking pissed off!” he snapped.
“Why?” Her brow creased. “What happened? You weren’t like this the last time I talked to you.” She sounded genuinely concerned.
He huffed, arms falling to his sides as his shoulders slumped. He couldn’t yell at someone who wouldn’t even yell back. “Bad day at the office.”
“You have an office?”
“Our record company’s,” he said. “In Berlin.”
“Oh?” There was a click as the latch on her side of the door was slid back. The door opened and Erika stepped through. She looked fucking spectacular in her pink bikini, even moreso than Tom had thought from the quick glimpse he’d gotten, but what caught his attention now was her hand, reaching out in slow motion to touch his arm. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
His whole body coiled tight beneath the gentle touch of her fingers on his skin. “I can’t… It’s just… We’re bound by a contract we’re trying to get out of,” he explained hesitantly. Even talking about it was a breach of that very contract. “Our bosses are assholes.”
She nodded solemnly. “Isn’t there anything you could do? Talk to a lawyer--”
“We have. We’re working on it. But it’s annoying.” He chanced a look at her. She didn’t look upset with him, just sympathetic. “Makes me fucking crazy,” he admitted, low.
“I don’t understand why anyone would want to force an artist into a contract,” she agreed. “But my dad would probably say it’s necessary. There’s lots of money at stake. But that shouldn’t be what it’s all about, should it. You need your freedom.”
Surprised, he nodded. He hadn’t expected her to get it. “Yeah.”
She smiled a little. “I’m sorry you had a bad day. I could tell you were upset. That’s why I thought you’d maybe like to chat.” She ducked her head, peering at her bare toes. “And I am going to call Bill later tonight. I know it’s been a few days. I’ve missed him. I just, I haven’t done the dating thing in a while, and it’s… He’s not like any other guy I’ve ever been with, you know? I needed a little while to remind myself how that’s a good thing. A great thing!”
Tom bit his lip. Her opinion of Bill, of him, was humbling. “You don’t have to explain. It’s, uh, none of my business.”
“I know you’re close,” she said. “It’s okay. I’m sure he told you about Sunday.”
“Yeah,” Tom said, and she gave an embarrassed little shrug.
“It was a little awkward, I mean, I practically threw myself at him, and when he didn’t… I was embarrassed.” Her cheeks were very pink now. “But that’s part of getting to know someone, right? And now I know him a little bit better. That’s nice.” She smiled.
“Nice,” Tom echoed. It was a fucking mess. If he’d contemplated telling her the truth earlier, now it seemed more impossible than ever.
“Do you think he’s angry that I didn’t call?” Her nose crinkled at the thought. She looked rather adorable with her face scrunched up like a little bunny’s.
Tom found himself smiling. “He was,” he said, “but he isn’t now.”
“You think? Good. I’m glad.” She seemed to relax at that. Her hand that was still at his shoulder stroked down along his arm before she dropped it, raising goosebumps in its wake. The gesture was so casual, so offhanded, that he was sure she hadn’t meant anything by it, but that didn’t stop his stomach from flip-flopping pleasantly.
If Gustav and Georg had been there, they’d have laughed their asses off. How pathetic had he become, to get excited at a girl just touching his arm?
And yet, Tom couldn’t help the flutter inside his belly as he looked down at her, the almost painful urge to raise his arm that still tingled with her touch and stroke her lovely hair in turn. He knew what it felt like to touch it, to hold her in his arms, but it seemed like he couldn’t get enough. And he definitely hadn’t gotten enough of her as himself.
If only… Yeah, if only.
“Do you guys have plans tonight?” she asked, peering up at him curiously from those wide blue eyes, and for one brief, lovely moment, Tom thought she’d invite him over. “I was wondering if Bill wanted to go see a movie or something.”
It felt a little like being an eleven-year-old in school again, and arranging dates with the same girl for them both. Tom stifled a tired sigh. “See a movie? That’s going to take some preparation.” At her confused look, he elaborated, “We can’t just go out like that, or we’ll get mobbed.”
She looked disappointed. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t think of that.”
“You could come over here?” he suggested. “We have a huge movie collection.”
“Thanks, but I should probably ask Bill what he’d like to do,” she said hesitantly.
“I’m sure he’d like that.” He’d better. “What kinds of movies do you like?”
She smiled. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I don’t actually watch a lot of movies. Usually I just sit in bed in my pyjamas and watch the Discovery Channel. They had this great show on the other day about art theft--”
“Wow. Lame,” he teased, and she gasped in mock hurt and retreated behind the door again, on her side of the hedge.
“I’ve seen you with your dogs,” she told him, sniffing. “You probably sit and cry at those documentaries about animal shelters. Or seal hunting.”
“I never cry,” Tom claimed. He did feel a little blue at being deprived of the sight of her in that pink bikini, though.
“We’ll watch one together sometime,” she laughed. “Then we’ll see who’s lame.”
His eyebrows shot up. He never could resist a good challenge. “You got it.”
“Okay.” Her eyes twinkled. “Animal documentaries and pasta. Sounds good.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.” They exchanged a long look.
“So.” Tom found his voice hoarse when he tried to speak. He cleared his throat. “We could do that. Tonight?” He didn’t quite know what they’d do if she agreed - Bill would have to disappear, they’d have to make up some emergency - but they’d figure it out. She only had to say yes to him.
Tom hadn’t wanted anything so badly in a long, long time.
“I need to talk to Bill,” she said. “Maybe I will. I’ll call him.”
His heart sank. He nodded slowly. “I’ll let him know.”
Erika smiled. “Don’t overdo it with that thing.” She jerked her chin at the lawnmower, which stood abandoned on the partly cut grass. “You’ll get heatstroke.”
“Will you perform CPR on me if I do?” The words came out before Tom had a chance to think them over.
She let out a startled little laugh. “I’d probably drag you over here and throw you in the pool. Bye, Tom.” He could hear her giggling long after she’d moved away from the hedge, out of sight. There was a splash, and Tom barely resisted the urge to open that door for a glimpse at the pool, and Erika in the water, her skin wet, that tiny bikini clinging to her skin…
But he had things to do. The lawn wasn’t yet symmetrical, and, if Erika insisted, he - well, ‘Bill’ - would have a date coming up later. Tom wasn’t really in the mood to dress up and pretend, and he didn’t know how he’d break the news of the date to his twin, who’d been moaning just like Tom about wanting to get back home while they were in Berlin, but Bill would just have to go with the flow. At this point, Tom didn’t know how to stop it, anyway.
He wished she’d just agreed to see him, let him make her pasta and watch the funny animal videos he’d bookmarked on Youtube. He could’ve done that. He didn’t know if he could pull off Bill’s teary enthusiasm for girly movies, and, more importantly, he just didn’t want to.
He’d done the skinny jeans, he’d ruined his lip piercing, he’d hidden the dreads. And it still wasn’t enough. As a matter of fact, things had never been worse. The fun times of kindergarten were over; slipping out of his identity and into Bill’s felt like putting on an ill-fitting suit. As alike as they were, as much as they loved each other, they existed in mutual respect of their quirks and differences, and denying those was like shitting all over their souls, their bond, everything Tom considered sacred.
And there was no way out.
Sighing, he made quick work of the grass, then parked the mower in the shed again and shuffled back to the house, longing for a shower and a cool drink. The constant switch back and forth between his normal self and the affected ways of ‘Bill’ was exhausting, and confusing. He didn’t really know what to think now that he’d talked to her as himself and she hadn’t seemed to hate him; he wasn’t sure where to take things with her as Bill when he’d actually liked talking to her, much more than he enjoyed the make-out sessions in Bill-disguise that only ever left him with blue balls.
He walked into the kitchen and found Bill feeding the dogs. He, too, had yielded to the heat and was now only wearing underpants and his jewelry, his hair wet and slicked back. The ingredients for margaritas sat on the counter in a puddle of half-melted ice and condensation, along with Bill’s half-empty glass; Tom picked it up and drained it in one. He sat at the counter, rolling the cool glass between his palms.
“I’ll make a fresh one for you,” Bill told him. “How’d it go? I saw you out there with her.”
“It was…” Tom thought for a moment. He’d snapped at her, taunted her, but by the end, they’d been able to talk halfway normally. They’d even made plans for something like a date, or what would amount to a date anyway if she wasn’t, technically, dating ‘Bill’. “Interesting,” he finished. That, it had been.
“Interesting?” Bill filled a cocktail shaker liberally with tequila, sniffing appreciatively at the sugar-and-liquor mixture before screwing the shaker shut and flailing around the kitchen with it as if he was performing a tribal dance. In Bill’s opinion, there was no situation that didn’t look better after a few margaritas. “How so?”
“I think she doesn’t hate me,” Tom said thoughtfully. “I think I could make her like me if she didn’t already like you. Well, ‘Bill’.” He made air quotes with his fingers.
“Ha!” Bill’s voice was triumphant. “I told you you should just talk to her as yourself. I knew you’d hit it off.”
Tom braced his elbows on the counter, relishing the cold of the stone surface against his arms. “How could you have known that?”
“I know you,” Bill said with a supreme air of wisdom. “She’s pretty, she’s sassy, she likes art and exercise and making pasta. She’s perfect for you, but of course you had to go and fuck it up.”
Tom wished he could deny it, but sadly, Bill wasn’t wrong. He hung his head. “She said she was sorry that she didn’t call all week. That she felt embarrassed, after, you know. Sunday.”
“She felt embarrassed? Bless.” Bill poured Tom a glass of margarita, then drank the rest right from the shaker. “You know, I really like that girl.”
“Me too.” Tom wanted to bash his head against the countertop with the admission.
“I know. I could see how much you enjoyed talking to her.” Bill sighed happily. “And she does have very pretty hair.”
“Hair? Did you see her?” Tom asked. “I mean, her hair’s great, but that bikini!”
Bill shrugged dismissively.
“And she likes you. What a fucking waste,” Tom sighed. “You didn’t even notice her figure, did you.”
“I’m not blind.” Bill grinned. “But for the last time, she doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her like that either. I’ll gladly leave her to you, don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” Tom said dryly. He took a long drink of his cocktail. “None of this makes any sense. Why’d she hate me for looking over the hedge at her, but then parade around in a bikini in front of me?”
“She wants your attention, but on her own terms,” Bill said. “It’s understandable, isn’t it? She doesn’t want you to look at her like a piece of meat, but she still wants you to look.”
“I don’t know.” Tom gave in and laid his warm head on the stone counter to cool off. “Do you think she wants me to look? Me me?”
“Yes,” Bill said immediately. “She wants you to look, all right. Girl’s a flirt. Just like you. You didn’t see the look on her face while she watched you mow the lawn.”
“She watched me?” Tom mulled this over. “But she still wants to be with you? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe she’s confused. Wouldn’t blame her,” Bill said. “What else did she say?”
“She said she was going to call you. Well, me. That she wanted to see you again. Maybe tonight.”
“Tonight? No. Tom!” Bill protested. “We only just got home.”
“Relax. I don’t feel like it either.” Tom felt drained, if anything. The day had been fucking exhausting. “If she’d agreed to meet me… But she didn’t.”
“Hmm,” Bill made thoughtfully around a sip of cocktail. “Have you considered that it might just be a matter of style? Maybe, if you wore some tighter clothes--”
Tom groaned.
“I’m just saying!” Bill argued. “It couldn’t hurt! You could look so pretty if you tried--”
“I don’t want to look pretty,” Tom protested. “And I don’t want tighter clothes! Wearing yours is bad enough.”
Bill put his hands on his hips and huffed. “Would you feel attracted to a woman in a potato sack?”
Tom raised his head off the countertop, glaring. “That’s different. They have parts to show off. Hips. Ass. Legs. Tits.” He sighed forlornly at the thought of a nice pair of breasts. At this rate, he’d probably never get to see any again from up close. “Men’s bodies are boring.”
“I beg to differ,” Bill said dryly. “Seriously, just think about it, Tom. She sure seemed to like the look of you shirtless.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “I can go shirtless,” he conceded. “But I’m not going shopping with you. If that’s what you’re thinking, forget it now.”
Bill’s disappointed look showed that he had indeed been thinking along those lines. “Can we just spend some time together tonight, then? I feel like we haven’t had time for just us in a while. Not really.”
Tom winced. “I know. I’m sorry, okay? I wish I could just make all of this go away, like it never happened. I wish I’d never met her.”
“Aw, don’t say that.” Bill smiled. “I think you’re so cute when you’re in love!”
Tom blushed hotly. “I’m not in… I’m not, okay? Don’t say that.”
“Whatever you say, Tom. What do you want for dinner?” Bill threw open the fridge, rubbing his stomach. “I could go for pasta. Can you get Erika to make something that’s not vegetables next time?”
“I can’t get Erika to do anything,” Tom sighed. “That’s the whole problem, remember?”
Bill glanced at him over his shoulder. “That’s fine,” he said gently. “I’ll just order Italian. Okay?”
Tom nodded. “I’ll go shower. And then I need to talk to her. She said she’d call.”
Bill fished an ice cream cone from the freezer. He peeled off the foil wrapping and proceeded to suck the whole scoop of ice cream into his mouth. “Fffy wnn sser…”
In spite of himself, Tom cracked a smile. “Sorry, there’s so much static on the connection today.”
“I said,” Bill gasped, pulling the cone from his mouth, “if you want to see her, have her come over, I’ll go sit in my room. You don’t have to spend time with me, I don’t want to make you if you’d rather--”
Tom slid off his chair, walked over and thumped Bill hard on the back. “Shut up. That’s just stupid.”
Bill looked gratified at that, even though he had to twist himself like a pretzel trying to rub the sore spot on his back. “Might even be easier, talking to her on the phone,” he pointed out. “Less of a chance of slipping up.”
That was true, although Tom found imitating Bill’s voice on the phone exhausting; it felt like he had to put more of an effort into it when he couldn’t distract her from the fakeness of his performance with gestures and smiles. But then, he couldn’t even remember a time now when seducing a girl had not been exhausting.
“Stop moping,” Bill said, sensing the disturbance in Tom’s mood easily. “Get to it, I’ll have dinner ready by the time you’re done.”
Gratefully, Tom shuffled off to his bathroom, where he stood under the cold spray of the shower for almost fifteen minutes, trying to cool his overheated head and will away the almost constant arousal that had him wound up. Whenever he was beginning to get anywhere, though, the image of Erika in a pink bikini popped up before his mind’s eye and he was back to square one.
He was towelling off when he heard the phone ring, and almost tripped himself up with the towel in his haste as he tossed it into the bathroom corner and ran, naked, into his bedroom. He flung himself on the bed and grabbed the phone off the nightstand. “Hello?”
“Hi, Bill,” Erika said softly, “How are you?” and any hope he’d had of forgetting how damn sexy she was melted away with the heat of her voice. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” The tone was fake; the sentiment was not. Tom closed his eyes, thinking of her bright smile and those sky-blue eyes and all the things he’d wanted to tell her, earlier, but couldn’t say as himself. Now, here, he could finally speak the truth. “I thought I’d ruined everything.”
“You tried to do the right thing,” she protested. “I get it now. I just… I was a little hurt, I guess.”
“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t say how much.
“No, no, don’t be. It’s okay.” There was a small pause. “You were right, we don’t really know each other yet, and I, I really want to.”
“Me too,” Tom sighed.
“Can I see you again?” she asked. “We can just, I don’t know, talk this time. Or I could finish drawing you.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, trying to think of a gracious way to delay. He needed to see where they stood, he and Erika, and for that, he had to play for time as Bill. “Do you have plans for next weekend? You could come over, I’ll throw Tom out…?”
“Next weekend? Oh. I was, well, hoping to see you sooner. But that’s fine.” She seemed anxious to please him; Tom wondered if he’d overdone it with the guilt trip, at the hedge earlier. When she was with him, Tom-as-Tom, she was less pliant, more self-assured. He didn’t know what to think of that. “And you don’t have to throw Tom out, it’s his house too.”
That made him smile. “You talked.”
“He seemed upset.” She sounded almost defensive.
“He was,” Tom agreed. “Thanks for taking care of him.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t very friendly. I may have smacked him, even.”
“He needed it.”
“Well, yeah, happy to help.” There was a moment of silence between them, charged with something Tom couldn’t even begin to define. “What are you doing tonight?” she asked then.
“We have to go over some paperwork.” That was true; their lawyer had sent them a whole stack of papers to read through, but Tom didn’t feel up to it right then. His bed was nice and soft. Sinking through the thick duvet, he felt boneless and tired. He just wanted to lie there forever and listen to the melody of her voice. It was relaxing, almost as if she was right next to him on his own private cloud, his own personal angel.
“That sounds…”
“Awful,” he supplied.
“Yeah.” She laughed. “No chance you’d rather see a movie with me?”
“My brother and I really should work,” he said honestly. He doubted they would, but. It was better than outright lying to her.
“Next weekend, then,” she agreed. If she was disappointed, she didn’t let it on. “I’ll, uh, let you get to it now.”
“Yeah, I should go work.” He was quiet for a moment, listening to her even breaths. “Erika?”
“Hmm?”
Tom bit his lip. “I wish…” He wished he could have her there beside him. He wished he could tell her the truth. He wished he could make her like him, him, as much as he liked her.
His dreams of the future had long been unchanged. They were the reality of his present: being with Bill always, making music with the boys, basking in the glory of success and good fortune. Tom knew how lucky he was; maybe he shouldn’t tempt fate. And yet, here and now, he couldn’t help wishing for something else, something more that had always eluded him ever since the day their father had walked out and never looked back.
He wanted the happy ending.
“You wish…?” a soft voice asked.
For a brief, blissful moment, he let his mind soar freely. He dreamed of sunshine and laughter, warm happy days threaded through with gold and blue, a hand in his, a real home to return to after a long, adventurous journey. He dreamed of long, languid nights, a soft body beneath him, and quiet, peaceful mornings that began with a kiss.
He wanted her to be the one who’d fulfil his heart’s desire; but she was no good fairy. Just a girl. Just a girl he liked who didn’t like him back. “What do you wish, Bill?”
Tom started. He opened his eyes, squinting at the endless white stretch of ceiling above. “I, uh, nothing. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” Erika sighed. “Bill?”
“Hmm?”
“I wish you’d tell me.” She’d hung up before he could reply.
“No you don’t,” Tom told the silent room. He sat up and switched off the phone, then, with a howl of rage, hurled it at the bare wall.