His Every Percent - 1/3
His Every Percent
A split-second after the fifth false alarm, Tommy let out a groan of frustration and pushed his way back from the heaving crowd around Johnny Starr’s tourbus. After an hour of being packed in like a two-month old sardine, getting elbowed in the ribs and stepped on by shrieking fangirls and screaming fanboys, he’d kinda had enough. When he finally broke through the throng, he gulped in fresh air gratefully, eyes scanning the crowded scene outside the Tower Theater, looking for somewhere to catch a minute alone and get his head back in the waiting game.
There. Tommy saw the little side street, dark and quiet and abandoned, and made a beeline for it right away. Just a minute. He just needed a minute and he would get back in the thick of things, back to the waiting game and the fingers-crossed hoping against hope that maybe maybe maybe, please please @God, Johnny Starr would come out to sign tonight, which he almost never did.
Raindrops hit him in the face as he walked and Tommy instinctively clutched his magazine closer to his chest. It was his precious copy of Japanese Rolling Stone, the one that had Johnny Starr on the cover with a wicked gleam in his eyes and a bejeweled finger pressed to his insanely gorgeous lips. The rain wasn’t going to ruin it, not if Tommy had any say in the matter.
A few seconds later, he relaxed against a wall in the dark alley and breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Jesus!” he exhaled loudly, tilting his head back against the brick wall behind him.
“It’s kind of insane, isn’t it?” a voice responded from the darkness.
Tommy stiffened with shock as a large shadow peeled off the wall opposite him, stepping forward until it revealed itself to be a tall, dark-haired man, dressed in head-to-toe black and scuffed up snakeskin boots. He was ridiculously gorgeous and it took Tommy a good twenty seconds to realize he was staring and then fifteen more seconds to finally peel his eyes away and try to say something to break the sudden tension in the air.
“Yeah, it is,” Tommy managed with a quick laugh. “I mean, I love Johnny Starr, don’t get me wrong, but even my adoration has limits. As it turns out, five elbows to my ribs and two stilettos in my left foot is my limit.”
The man smiled at that and Tommy found himself staring again, a little slack-jawed because wow, the stranger was even more gorgeous when he smiled, eyes practically sparkling even in the low light in the alley.
“Sounds like being a Johnny Starr fan can be dangerous,” he said.
“Positively hazardous to your health,” Tommy agreed.
The man laughed at that, and Tommy trembled a little with the sudden desire to kiss the laughter from his lips.
“Hi, I’m Tommy, by the way,” he said before he could stop himself.
The man smiled in response. “I’m Adam.”
Adam. The name suits him to a T, what with his long legs and broad chest and silky-looking black hair. And his lips. God. Suddenly Johnny Starr’s didn’t compare. Didn’t even come close.
“So, I know why I’m hiding out here. What’s your story?” Tommy asked.
Adam waved toward the crowded street. “I can’t deal with all that.”
Tommy flashed him a sympathetic smile. “Did you get dragged down here? Got a girlfriend in the crowd? ” Tommy waited for the answer and pretended not to be nervous to hear it.
“Nope. No girlfriend.”
“Boyfriend then?”
Adam gave him a sidelong look. “No. No boyfriend either. My little sister loves Johnny to death. She’s right up against the barriers.” He paused for a moment. “What about you? Got someone in the crowd?”
Tommy couldn’t help but notice the touch of nervousness in Adam’s voice when he asked.
“No. Just me. Rode a bus for six hours from school just to get here for this concert.”
Adam’s eyes widened. “Whoa. That’s kind of crazy.”
Tommy stiffened at that. “It’s not that crazy. It’s just…just-listen, like, I’ve always been terribly serious, you know? Even as a kid, I was straight-laced, never a step out of line, steady stream of As. Hell, the one time I got a B plus, I had a three-day panic attack.”
“Wow,” Adam said, chuckling a little.
“I never really did any of this, you know?” Tommy waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the crowded street. “I never went to concerts, or did the whole fanboy thing over a rockstar. So, I figure, hey, what the hell? Who cares if I’m being a little ridiculous? I’m still mostly the same, still too serious for my own good. But only like ninety-nine percent now. Johnny Starr’s my one percent.”
When Tommy fell silent, a little breathless and wide-eyed, Adam didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood there, staring at Tommy like he was some kind of revelation as the few drops of rain that had been falling intermittently turned into a steady drizzle.
Just as Adam opened his mouth to say something, pandemonium broke out on the crowded street. The noise was deafening, even from the alley and both men turned their heads sharply. “JOHNNY!!!! JOHNNY!!!! JOHNNY!!!!” Holy crap, Johnny Starr had come out.
Adam turned back first and stared pointedly at the magazine still clutched to Tommy’s chest.
“I guess you gotta go, huh?”
Tommy turned back as well, catching the flash of disappointment in Adam’s eyes just before it disappeared.
“Yeah…”
Adam’s eyes narrowed a little. “This is what you were waiting for, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. You’re right, I should…should go,” Tommy replied, wondering why his feet were suddenly refusing to move. What the hell?
“Umm…well, it was nice meeting you,” Tommy said. The rain was coming a little heavier now, and Tommy stared at a raindrop clinging to Adam’s bottom lip. “Goodbye, I guess.”
Tommy turned away and began to walk toward the crowded street.
“Hey, Tommy!”
He turned around immediately at the sound of Adam’s voice.
“Yeah?”
“I just wanted to tell you that I don’t think you’re ridiculous at all. I like your one percent.”
Tommy felt his heart skip a beat. Then another. He stared out at the crowded street, squinting, just making out the top of Johnny Starr’s head. Then he looked back at Adam. He took in the sweet, sad smile on his face, the intensity in his eyes, and those silly snakeskin boots and-oh, forget it!
He broke into a run in the wrong direction-no, the right direction now-threw his free arm around Adam’s neck and pulled him down just close enough for Tommy to press a kiss to the corner of his gorgeous lips. Adam let out a startled sound and jerked back a little, and as he moved, his soft lips slid along Tommy’s for the briefest of moments, making Tommy gasp a little from the fleeting sensation of the almost-kiss.
When Adam pulled back completely, he arched a dark eyebrow and shot Tommy a look of amusement. “Wow. I was so not expecting you to do that.”
Oh God. Tommy felt the blush starting somewhere around the middle of his chest and fanning upward, spreading until his face was suffused with color and heat. He felt an accompanying jolt of mortification in the pit of his stomach and immediately planted his face in his free hand, rain soaking into his hair and down his neck as he did it.
He hadn’t been exaggerating before when he’d told Adam about himself. Tommy had always been the star pupil, the go-to student in front of class with his hand permanently raised in the air, just bursting at the seams with answers to every question. He had been valedictorian of his high school class, and his good grades had carried him right along to Harvard, and on a full scholarship no less. Tommy was a bit of a science geek-okay, a lot of a science geek, more at home in the chem lab than at a kegger. Hell, truth be told, he’d only ever been to two parties in his whole life. Once in high school when a neighbor had sent him a pity invite and Tommy had stood in a corner all night, and once during sophomore year in college when he’d had vodka for the first time and had gotten drunk and ended up puking his guts into a cheerleader’s Marc Jacobs purse and, yeah, that hadn’t end well at all.
Fast forward to present day and Tommy was still the same, still eternally serious, a pre-med student destined for cardio-thoracic greatness. And yeah, see, that right there was how come Tommy was never going to be the guy that gets the girl-not that he wanted the girl. If he was going to have a mini-meltdown in front of a perfect stranger whom he’d just kissed-okay, fine, pecked on the cheek-he ought to at least get the gender terms straight. Straight. Ha, ha. And so maybe, ever since Johnny Starr broke out on the music scene last year and Tommy had become immediately obsessed, he’d gotten a little less serious and a little more adventurous-hello, he’d bleached his hair blond and ridden a bus alone for six hours just to see the man in concert-but he was still ninety-nine percent the same, and that ninety-nine percent was never going to be the guy who gets the guy, or kisses him in a dark alley in the rain and oh my god.
And just about when Tommy was about to go into critical meltdown mode and like, babble incoherently and issue five gazillion apologies, the weather apparently decided it meant business and suddenly, rain came pouring down in sheets.
“Dude,” Adam exclaimed as he yanked off his jacket. Then he pulled Tommy in close and held his jacket over both their heads. “Put your magazine away or you’ll ruin it. Come on, I gotta go get Allison.”
Tommy, still in meltdown mode, obeyed automatically. As they moved, he folded his magazine into the worn, canvas messenger bag he carried and tucked in a little closer to Adam, going into a deeper tailspin when the heady scent of Adam’s cologne washed over him and-wait, who was Allison?
Turned out Allison was a shrieking seventeen year old girl with bright pink hair and an autographed copy of Johnny Starr’s debut CD cover in her hands.
“I got so lucky,” she squealed as they ran for cover beneath the Tower Theater’s marquee. “I was the last person he signed for before it started raining hardcore. Jenny is gonna die when she sees.”
Tommy wondered who Jenny was. Could be a best friend. Could be an arch-nemesis. One can never be too sure with high school girls. He listened to her babble some more, and he wondered briefly if he sounded like that when he spoke about Johnny Starr. He hoped not. Allison thrust the autographed CD cover into Tommy’s hand for a closer look and he ran a finger over the scrawled ‘J.S.’ and wondered why he wasn’t feeling as jealous as he would’ve figured he would be. Then he looked up at Adam as he handed the CD cover back to Allison, and figured it out. Black hair damp with rain now, eyes bright and playful, bottom lip so lush that Tommy was scared he might need a private moment soon, and yeah, a hastily scrawled autograph didn’t compare to that.
“So, what’s the plan, bro? We heading home or what?”
“Uh, hold on a sec,” Adam said in response to Allison’s question before turning to Tommy.
“How’d you get here, Tommy?”
“Oh, I rode the city subway line to 69th. I figured I’d just ride it back to get to the Greyhound station.”
“You don’t live here, do you?” Allison said.
“Why do you say that?” Tommy responded.
“Dude, the subway stops running at like, midnight. It’s 12:15am. It’s night buses or bust.”
Hmm. Well, that was one detail Tommy had missed.
“It’s okay, man,” Adam piped up. “I drove here. We’ll give you a ride back to the bus station. Can’t let you get soaked in the rain.” Adam smiled. “We’ve gotta protect that magazine of yours.”
Gorgeous and incredibly nice to boot. No really, Adam, be more perfect, thanks. Oh, and be more out of Tommy’s league too.
During the ride from the Tower Theater to the Greyhound station, Allison kept up a steady stream of chatter, pulling Tommy at one point into a cute little debate over which song on Johnny Starr’s CD was the best. Tommy insisted on ‘Sleepwalker’ and Allison insisted on ‘Fever’ and Adam insisted on a little peace and quiet, grousing adorably about having two cray-cray Johnny Starr fans in his car. Eventually, they pulled up in front of the bus terminal and parked the car on the street. Then, Adam and Allison walked Tommy into the station and over to the gate where the bus back to Boston was already boarding.
Tommy pulled out his ticket and flashed the brother-sister combo a wistful smile. “I guess this is goodbye, huh?”
“I guess so,” Allison said. Then she launched herself at Tommy and gave him a quick hug. “Glad we met, even if your taste in Johnny Starr’s music is questionable.”
“Agree to disagree?” Tommy suggested with an even wider smile.
Allison cocked her head, narrowing her eyes like she was really thinking hard about it. “Okay, deal. Agree to disagree. But only ‘cos you’re cute. And my brother likes you.”
This time, Adam did the facepalming while Tommy just stood there in shock.
“Jesus, Alli, warn a guy first. You just almost gave us both a heart attack.” Then he looked at Tommy closer. “Actually, one of us might have actually had one. Tommy, are you okay?”
“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Tommy said, croaking a little as the ability to speak came tumbling back.
“Come on, I’ll walk you to the bus.” Adam wrapped an arm around Tommy’s lean shoulders and began to pull him away. “You,” he said over his shoulder in Allison’s direction. “Do not move an inch. Be right back.”
“Don’t forget to get his number!” Allison called out with a laugh. And wow, that didn’t help Tommy’s state of mind.
When Tommy and Adam walked out of the gate and stopped beside the bus, Adam pulled his arm away and Tommy pretended he didn’t miss the weight of it already.
“So…I’m thinking Alli might be a bit of a brat, but she does have the best suggestions sometimes.”
“What do you mean?” Tommy asked.
“Getting your number. Whataya say?”
You’re never going to call me, that’s what I say, Tommy thought morosely as he stared up into Adam’s handsome face, a face he’d since noticed was dotted with freckles, each so-called imperfection making him that much more perfect. And that much more unattainable.
“So?”
Oh, forget it. So what if he never called? Tommy could dream for the moment, couldn’t he? So, he rattled off his phone number and watched quietly as Adam tapped it into his iPhone. When he was done, he thrust the phone into his pocket and flashed Tommy a sheepish grin.
“So…you’re leaving now.”
Tommy gave him a quizzical look. “Um…yes?”
“So, I was wondering…do I get to kiss you goodbye?”
Wait. Stop the presses. What? Adam wanted to kiss Tommy? He felt his face heating up again, a new blush spreading rapidly because, well, Tommy had been kissed exactly once in his science geek life, and that one time was after hours in chem lab spring semester, college freshman year and, holy crap, how was Tommy supposed to go from kissing fellow science geek, Stacy McGee, to kissing sexgod stranger, Adam without totally spazzing out?
Kinda like Tommy was doing right now. He needed to calm down. So he took a few deep breaths, looked up at Adam and tried to say something witty, or at the very least coherent. Coherent was good enough right now.
“Um…I generally don’t kiss strangers. I don’t even know your last name.”
Adam chuckled softly. “You’re cute. And the last name’s Lambert.”
“You’re still a stranger. I don’t know anything about you.”
Adam smiled. “How about if I make you a file? Everything you ever wanted to know about Adam Lambert. If I promise to email it to you within 48 hours, can I kiss you now?”
Tommy bit down on his bottom lip to keep from smiling in response. Everything about Adam was contagious. “Uh…I think 24 hours would be better.”
“You got a deal. 24 hours.” Adam moved closer and when he spoke next, his voice had gone down an entire octave. “Can I kiss you now?”
“Please,” Tommy whispered.
Adam groaned in response a moment before he wrapped his long arms around Tommy and hauled him closer. It was a soft kiss at first, just a light press, as if Adam was testing him. But when Tommy moaned softly against Adam’s lips, the kiss deepened, turning into a rough slide of lips and tongues and a palpable sweetness that turned Tommy’s knees to mush and made his heart go haywire in his chest.
When Adam broke the kiss, Tommy stood there breathless, legs a little shaky beneath him.
“Wow,” Adam said with a heated look. “I can’t wait to learn all about your other ninety-nine percent.” Then he gave Tommy a quick peck on the cheek and murmured a goodbye before turning away. “Oh, and by the way,” Adam said over his shoulder as he walked away, “your one percent is delicious.”
Tommy gasped out loud, and then cracked up laughing when Adam followed the statement with an exaggerated wink before disappearing into the bus terminal. And yeah, so maybe Tommy wanted to melt into a puddle of squee right there by the Greyhound bus. But he didn’t, because by then all the other passengers were already onboard and Tommy was the only straggler. The bus horn sounding kicked Tommy back into action and he climbed up the bus steps.
The driver gave him a knowing smile as he took Tommy’s ticket and Tommy blushed, color climbing higher when a few catcalls rang out as he made his way to an empty seat. Tommy sat down, small body curled up against the frosted window, torn between flaming embarrassment and wanting to disappear and crazy excitement and wanting to flail uncontrollably because, all that. Just. Happened.
* ~ * ~ *
The bus pulled into Boston around 7am in the morning and Tommy hopped on the red metro line back to Harvard, falling into his bed around 8:10am and sleeping for the rest of the morning. He finally woke up a little after noon, thankful that he had no Friday classes, and immediately commenced hand wringing as the memory of the night before in Philadelphia downloaded. He spent the whole day tied up in knots because he really really wanted Adam to call him, but there was no way that was ever going to happen.
First of all, it was bound to occur to Adam sooner or later that Philadelphia and Boston were kind of six states apart and Tommy wasn’t worth that kind of hassle. And second of all, in this situation, Adam was definitely the most popular guy in school, and everyone knows the most popular guy in school never calls the science geek (except in a John Hughes movie), and maybe real life wasn’t exactly like high school, but the same basic rules applied. The Adams of the world never called the Tommys of the world. Plain and simple. So why was Tommy staring at his Droid like if he wished hard enough, the laws of attraction would suddenly go in reverse and his phone would magically start ringing.
Except, hold on a minute, his phone was ringing.
Tommy picked up his Droid and stared down at the unfamiliar number. 215 area code. Ohmigod. That was a Philadelphia area code! He remembered from when he’d called the Tower Theater for directions on how to get there. Holy crap, Adam was calling. Alert the media. Adam Lambert was calling! Oh wait, maybe Tommy should actually answer the phone?
His voice was a little high-pitched when he spoke, not that Tommy had the wherewithal to care. “Hello?”
“Hey, Tommy, it’s Adam. Adam Lambert. Remember me?”
“Like I could ever forget,” Tommy said before he could catch himself. And then he immediately facepalmed, groaning softly.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I was having a moment with my vocal chords there. I was just reminding them not to go spilling out things I only meant to think silently in my head.”
Adam laughed. “So cute,” he said in that same sexy-sweet voice Tommy remembered and had been dreaming about the entire bus ride back to Boston.
“Um…so…I didn’t think you would actually call me.” Good one, Tommy, way to sound totally pathetic.
“Why, because it’s late in the day? Sorry about that. I had to work a little late at the paper today and I didn’t want any distractions when I finally got you on the phone.”
“Oh.”
“Besides, if I didn’t call you, how would I get your email address for the file?”
Tommy frowned in confusion. “The file?”
“Everything you ever wanted to know about Adam Lambert, remember? I’ve only got a few hours left on that 24-hour deadline you gave me. And I’m in the journalism business, so I’m all about meeting deadlines.”
Tommy laughed. “Did you actually make a file?”
“Totally did. Worked on it all day just for you.”
Tommy couldn’t help the fit of laughter that came over him as he opened his Gmail a few minutes later, Droid now on speakerphone on Tommy’s work desk. Adam had made him a sixty slide PowerPoint slideshow literally called ‘Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Adam Lambert’. Seeing it sent something wild and fluttery running loose in Tommy’s stomach. Because Adam had clearly worked on this, which meant that Adam had been thinking about Tommy all day, which mean that Adam really liked him. But this wasn’t a John Hughes movie, and Tommy wasn’t Molly Ringwald circa 1985, and the laws of attraction were strict and clear and Adam couldn’t possibly like Tommy back, could he?
Tommy was torn. But as Adam talked, sweet voice booming through the speakerphone and filling Tommy’s bedroom, he decided to save the existential crisis for later when he didn’t have a gorgeous man on the phone.
They ended up talking for four hours straight, with Adam narrating the slideshow over the phone, telling Tommy dozens of stories, cute ones, embarrassing ones, and one or two deeply personal ones. He described in detail what was happening in every picture he’d included in the slide show, tracing over stories of grade school and high school (where, incidentally, Adam had kinda been the popular guy, big shock), and college and all the crazy things he’d done and was lucky to have come out of in one piece. Tommy listened intently, laughing until he cried at certain parts, and cringing with second-hand embarrassment in others.
Towards the end of the slideshow, Adam moved on to more serious things, telling Tommy all about his job at the Philadelphia Inquirer, and how, at twenty four, and only two years out of UPenn, he was the youngest reporter on staff to have gotten a regular beat and byline. He’d clearly worked hard to prove himself and the personal pride in Adam’s voice made Tommy smile, pride flowing through him as well. As if Adam were his boyfriend. Which he totally wasn’t, but Tommy could add “dealing with reality” to his post phone call-with-gorgeous-man to do list. Maybe he could put it under “have an existential crisis.”
The phone call went on and on until Adam finally piped up about how late it had gotten.
“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. “It’s been a marathon.”
Adam chuckled. “Well, you better do some carbo-loading after this because it’s your turn tomorrow.”
“My turn?”
“Yeah. Part 2 of the presentation: Every Thing You Ever Wanted To Know About Tommy….” Adam laughed. “Actually, you know everything about me now and I don’t know your last name!”
“Ratliff. Tommy Joe Ratliff.”
“Tommy Joe? Wow, just when I thought you couldn’t get cuter. Alright, so same time tomorrow. Part 2: Every Thing You Ever Wanted To Know About Tommy Joe Ratliff. And I want a PowerPoint in my Gmail beforehand, mister.”
Tommy laughed. “Yes, sir.”
“Good man. Remember to get those carbs. It’s gonna be a marathon, not a sprint.”
* ~ * ~ *
Tommy woke up the next day with his stomach twisted up in even tighter knots than the day before. He’d dreamt about Adam all night, mind replaying that sexy-sweet voice over and over again while he tossed and turned in his bed. He spent all Saturday morning trying to decide what to do. On one hand there were the rules of the universe, the ones that said Adam’s call was a one-off and he’d forgotten Tommy already, and on the other hand was the hope that like, you know, springs eternal and stuff, and which kept insisting that Adam would call him again. Tommy paced and floundered and cracked his knuckles until he’d damned near given himself a premature case of arthritis. Then finally, around 1pm, he sat down at his work desk, cleared off his textbooks, turned on his laptop and opened PowerPoint.
And then he moved into his next existential crisis. Which pictures to choose? Which stories to tell? Did he really want Adam sexgod reporter Lambert knowing just how much of an epic fail most of Tommy’s social life was? Like Adam didn’t need to know about how he’d memorized the periodic table at the age of four, right? Or how Tommy was doing quadratic equations by nine? Because, let’s be real, pre-calculus did not equal sexy in any universe.
Tommy frowned at the blank PowerPoint slide on the screen, biting down on his bottom lip hard. Just when he was in clear and present danger of drawing blood, he finally took a deep breath and calmed down. He let his mind wander back to last night’s conversation and all the pictures Adam had shown him and the stories he’d told. Adam hadn’t held anything back, not even the mortifying stories that had made Tommy cringe in sympathy. He could do the same, right? Adam had said he wanted to know Tommy’s ninety-nine percent. So, fine, okay. Tommy would show him everything.
He spent the next five hours working on the presentation, scouring his media files for pictures and short home movies and even excerpts of term papers he’d written. By the time he was done, Tommy had a 71 slide PowerPoint ready for Adam. He smiled as he wrote in the chosen title, and smiled even harder when he opened his email window, replied to Adam’s email from yesterday and hit send. Then he went to go get dinner because his stomach was so not feeling him on the whole starve-for-a-whole-day- ‘cos- I’m-obsessing-over-a-guy thing.
Tommy had barely swallowed his last bite of pasta-carbs! Hey, Tommy pays attention-when his Droid started going off. He raced to his desk and answered, almost sighing out loud with pleasure when Adam’s incredible voice filtered into his bedroom through the speakerphone.
“Hey, Tommy Joe.”
Tommy could hear the smile in Adam’s voice and it made something in his gut clench tight with equal parts disbelief and joy.
“Hi, Adam. 7:05. Right on the dot. Wow, you reporters really are serious about deadlines, huh?”
“Journalism 101,” Adam replied. “So…I see you delivered, and with 71 slides too. Show-off.”
Tommy giggled-really, he actualfacts giggled-at Adam’s words. “You said it’d be a marathon. I’ve got my carbs in and my wicked awesome slideshow to do. I’m ready. What about you?”
“I was born ready, mister. So, come on, fire away.”
And so Tommy did. They went through the slideshow together, stopping and starting, flipping back over past slides when Adam wanted to know more about something or other. Tommy told him all about growing up in Maine and weekends spent with his father and grandfather fishing and sailing, and weeknights with all his family, his mother and sister, Lisa, too, gathered around the television set, watching old black and white movies like “The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.” He told Adam about middle school and high school and college, and he didn’t sugarcoat his geekdom or his social shortcomings or his crushing shyness at times. When the slide of the periodic table came up, they spent thirty whole minutes laughing over it as Tommy walked Adam through the whole thing and even quizzed him, demanding that Adam keep his eyes closed over there and tell him the atomic number of mercury. He failed, of course, but Tommy decided to give him pass for trying. Oh, and for being like, insanely gorgeous.
They talked about Tommy’s future plans after graduating from Harvard in three months. He told Adam about how he had a few med school applications still outstanding and how he’d wanted forever to go to UPenn but still hadn’t heard anything back yet. He was going to be a cardiothoracic surgeon; it was what he’d always had his heart set on, and besides, Tommy said, laughing as he looked down at his long, slender fingers, he had the hands for it.
And even though he said it all with a touch of self-deprecation, he could still hear the awe and genuine admiration in Adam’s voice when he spoke up during those parts and Tommy couldn’t help wondering if Adam was feeling what Tommy had felt last night when, for a moment, he’d kind of imagined Adam was his boyfriend. As if.
This time, Tommy was the one to say something about how late it had gotten. Like, holy crap, they’d talked even longer tonight, five hours and counting. And on a Saturday night too. The kind of night when gorgeous guys like Adam were out and about, partying in clubs or sliding into some pretty boy’s bed, or at the very least on totally awesome dates filled with good food and bottomless glasses of wine. And instead of doing all that, Adam was at home, letting Tommy talk his ear off and not sounding like he wanted to get off the phone anytime soon. Tommy didn’t get it at all.
“So,” Tommy started a bit timidly. “It’s after midnight.”
“Yeah?”
“Shouldn’t you be, like, out doing something? Like out on a date?”
Adam chuckled. “But I’m already on a date.”
“What?”
“Right here. Right now. I’m already on a date with you, silly.”
“But, this isn’t a date.”
“No? Well, let’s see. We’ve been talking for over five hours and I’ve gotten to know just about everything about you and you’ve gotten to know even more about me than you did last night, like how I am, and have always been, and will forever be hopeless at chemistry.”
Tommy laughed at that.
“So, who cares if instead of a restaurant table between us, we’ve got, you know, six states. It’s still a date. And a pretty awesome one so far, if you ask me.”
“Really?” Tommy asked, hating himself a little for the over-eager quality of his voice.
“Really,” Adam replied, and Tommy could totally see the broad smile on his face when he said it.
But it didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. The Adams of the world and the Tommys of the world-
“Tommy?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Over-thinking. Your brain is generating so much heat right now, I think my iPhone’s gonna melt, and I don’t want my iPhone to melt, Tommy, cos I kinda blanked on buying the insurance on it and I’ve got all my playlists set on this one already, and, Tommy, I need my playlists to live. To live, I tell you.”
That did it. Adam’s humor decelerated Tommy’s slide towards his third existential crisis of the day. But he still wanted to know something though.
“Why me? I live so far away and still, you’ve called me twice and talked to me for hours. You could have anyone you want. Someone who’s right there. So, why me?”
Adam stayed silent for a long moment. Long enough that Tommy started to wonder if he would ever answer. But then, he finally did.
“Because you rode a bus six hours just to see Johnny Starr. Because you’re almost criminally cute when you blush. Because you memorized the periodic table when you were four. Because your favorite Johnny Starr song is ‘Sleepwalker’ and you wouldn’t let Alli convince you otherwise-and that girl is persistent. Because you’re incredibly smart and I’m totally in awe right now. And because you’re going to be the best cardiothoracic surgeon UPenn ever produced. And because, I’ve been looking forward to this call since the moment I woke up today.”
“Oh.” It was all Tommy could say. Because what do you say to that? Like, who says things like that outside of Hollywood romance movies? And last time, Tommy checked, Adam wasn’t Richard Gere. And Tommy definitely wasn’t Julia Roberts and-
“Tommy, you’re doing it again.”
“Huh?”
“My iPhone’s getting warm again, which means you’re over-thinking. So….I say we place a ban on any more deep thoughts tonight. You on board?”
Tommy smiled. “Sure.”
“How about playing some Johnny Starr? Play me ‘Sleepwalker’.”
Tommy pulled up his iTunes and started the song, only to stop it a quarter way through when Adam said, “Hmm….okay, way too many deep thoughts in this song. We’re breaking the ban already. Something happier?”
‘Sure Fire Winners’ immediately followed and Adam laughed, making little humming noises over the speakerphone as the song played.
“So, you know, I never did figure out why you came all the way to Philadelphia to see the show on Thursday,” Adam said after they’d played through all the upbeat songs on Johnny Starr’s CD. “He’s playing Boston isn’t he?”
Grrr. It was a sore point with Tommy. He explained to Adam how he’d camped out on Ticketmaster for pre-tickets and then for regular tickets and had come out with nothing. The Boston show was the last performance of the GlamNation tour and the show had sold out in 4 minutes because of the anticipation of the supernova-levels of epicness that particular show was sure to reach. And by that time, all the alternatives nearby had already been on sale and sold out, so Philadelphia became his only shot. Oh, but what Tommy wouldn’t give to be there for the final show, to be front and center and basking in the glory of Johnny Starr working his glittery magic on a packed crowd.
“Oh my god, you’re totally cray-cray!” Adam exclaimed, laughing, when Tommy finally stopped talking.
“Shut up,” Tommy replied with a wide grin. “It totally broke my heart you know. I’m still healing.”
“Awww. Did you try Stubhub?”
“I did. Every ticket, including the nose-bleeds, is over 200 bucks. And some guy has four front row tickets for $385 each. I can’t afford that. I live on a teaching assistant stipend. The trip I took to Philadelphia pretty much wiped me out for the next couple weeks. I’m gonna be eating Ramen and saltines for days.”
“Sorry, Tommy.”
“S’okay. I can dream though.”
“Dreams are good,” Adam agreed. “So…it’s past 1am now. I guess I should let you go, huh?”
“Umm…I guess so?”
“Hey! What are you doing tomorrow morning?”
“Nothing. I was gonna study maybe.”
“Ugh. Boring,” Adam said.
“Welcome to my life.”
Adam laughed. “Think you can ditch the organic chem long enough to have a brunch date with me?”
“A brunch date? How are we going to do that?”
“Just like this, except with a little more creativity and some technological assistance.”
“Huh?”
“Do you have Skype?” Adam asked.
“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never used it.”
“Don’t worry. It’s really easy. Okay, so here’s the plan. Download Skype tomorrow morning when you wake up and email me your username info. Then go make-wait, what do you have at home? Do you have pancake mix?”
Where the heck was this going? “Um, yeah, I think so,” Tommy replied.
“Any kind of fruit?” Adam asked.
“Blueberries, I think.”
“Fantastic. So, at like, 11:30, you go make yourself a stack of blueberry pancakes and then sign on to Skype and I’ll find you and we’ll have brunch together, face to face, via Skype. “
“Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. So, noon, okay? Sign on and I’ll be there and we’ll ‘do brunch’.”
Tommy couldn’t help grinning at the excitement in Adam’s voice. “It’s a date.”
“Exactly,” Adam replied with a small laugh. “Oh, wait, forgot to ask. For the pancakes, powdered sugar or syrup?”
“Both,” Tommy replied. “There’s no such thing as ‘too sweet’.”
“Oh my god. You speak words of awesome to my soul,” Adam said in an exaggerated tone. “Alright, tomorrow, 12pm. Don’t be late. This restaurant is really strict. They totally won’t seat us if we’re late.”
Tommy burst out laughing. “12 noon. I’ll be there.”
“Alright then. Goodnight, Tommy.”
Tommy let out a contented sigh. “Goodnight, Adam.”
* ~ * ~ *
At precisely 11:55am the next morning, Tommy sprinkled powdered sugar over the heaping stack of blueberry pancakes on his plate before dousing the whole thing with maple syrup. When he was done, he set a knife and fork on the edge of the plate and carried it to his work desk along with a tall glass of orange juice. Then, he logged onto Skype and settled in to wait for Adam. He didn’t have to wait long. At exactly 12 noon, Adam was there and suddenly they were face to face again for the first time since Thursday night in Philadelphia.
Tommy stared, stunned speechless, at the video feed of Adam on his screen. He was dressed far more casually than he had been at the Tower Theater, nothing but a worn gray t-shirt with a flowering tree outlined in white and a pair of dark blue jeans. His hair was adorably rumpled, like he’d climbed out of bed and hadn’t bothered with combing or brushing it all morning long. His eyes were even bluer than Tommy remembered, and those lips-God, those lips-were somehow fuller-looking, softer, so close and yet so far out of reach. Tommy had never wanted anything so badly in his life.
“Tommy?” A concerned look briefly settled over Adam’s face.
“Huh?” Tommy said, eyes still glued to Adam’s lips.
“Are you okay? You’re kinda just staring.”
Crap, he was doing again. Just like he had in the alley when they’d first met. Tommy forced himself to drag his gaze away from Adam’s lips and looked up with a shaky smile.
“I’m fine,” he said brightly. “So…brunch.” Tommy gestured at the plate on Adam’s desk. “I see you’ve ordered already.”
Adam smiled. “And you too. Except, seriously, Tommy, your stack is twice as high as mine. How are you going to eat all that?”
Tommy grinned. “Don’t let my size fool you. You’d be shocked at how much I can put away.”
“Okay, full disclosure, I’m kinda hating on you right now. If I so much as wink at a cookie, I gain ten pounds. By the time I work through these pancakes, I’ll be the size of a sumo wrestler.”
“Oh, shut up,” Tommy said playfully. “You’re just fishing for compliments. You know perfectly well that you look good.”
Adam mock-pouted. “Just ‘good’? That’s it?”
“Better than good. Great, fantastic, sexy, gorgeous, hot,” Tommy rattled off as his face filled with heat. “Oh God, okay, no more. I’m gonna be too nervous to eat.”
“Aww, don’t be nervous, Tommy Joe. I don’t want you to starve.” Adam picked up his fork. “Come on, let’s eat. Yeah?”
“Let’s,” Tommy replied, picking up his fork as well.
They ate their identical meals slowly, chatting the entire time. And when they were done, they stayed logged into Skype for the rest of the day, talking occasionally but mostly sitting in companionable silence while Tommy studied for his organic chem test and Adam worked on an article that was due Monday morning. Before long, the brunch date had given way to a dinner date and they each ordered Chinese, Tommy’s delivery arriving only a few minutes before Adam’s.
Tommy laughed at Adam’s jokes and silly stories as they ate dinner-identical meals once again-stealing glances at Adam’s lips and Adam’s hands and Adam’s freckles when the other man wasn’t watching. As amazing as talking on the phone had been, this was so much better. To see Adam, to know that he was real, that he was that beautiful, that Tommy hadn’t imagined it all. It was indescribable and, try as he might, Tommy couldn’t believe his good luck. Because nothing like this had ever happened to him before. No one like Adam Lambert had ever happened.
It wasn’t until Tommy found himself stifling a yawn that he realized how late it had gotten. He glanced at the clock on his laptop and gasped softly. 12:15am. He’d been on Skype with Adam for twelve whole hours.
“Whoa.”
Adam looked up from where he’d been editing his article with a red pen. “What?”
“It’s so late.”
Adam looked down briefly at his own time display, eyes widening with surprise a second later. “Wow, we’ve been at this all day. I can’t believe it.” Then he looked up and gave Tommy the brightest smile ever. “I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun, huh?”
Tommy couldn’t help but smile back. “I guess it does.”
Adam didn’t say anything. Instead he cocked his head a little, giving Tommy a soft, wistful smile.
“What is it?” Tommy asked.
“I was just thinking about Thursday night. You and me by that bus. I wanna kiss you so badly right now.”
Tommy thought of that night and the way Adam’s lips had felt against his, soft and warm and totally devastating. Instantly he blushed, color rising high.
“I want to kiss you too,” Tommy said in a small voice, eyes glued to his keyboard, studiously avoiding Adam’s gaze as his blush deepened.
When Tommy finally hazarded a glance up at Adam, his smile had disappeared, but the wistfulness was still there, softening his features.
“I guess I should let you go,” Adam finally said. “Good luck on your test tomorrow. I wanna hear all about it in the evening.”
“And I want to hear what your editor thought of your article. So…same time tomorrow?”
Adam nodded. “7:05.” Then he reached out to turn off the connection.
“Wait!” Tommy called out before Adam could log off.
“Are you okay?” Adam asked.
“Yeah. I just….I just wanted to say that today was…it was…you know…it was….”
“Perfect,” Adam said, giving Tommy the word he was searching for.
“Yeah. It was perfect,” Tommy breathed, not even caring how besotted he sounded.
“I know. I felt it too.” Adam smiled and then a moment later, the connection was gone and Tommy was staring at a blank screen, heart racing at what felt like two hundred beats a minute because wow, was all this really happening?
[PART TWO]