Magnolia Parks: Chapter 46

“Oy,” Tom says, standing in my bedroom doorway. He gives me a small smile and wanders in.

“Hi.” I stand up to hug him and bury my face in his Textured, loopback, cotton and camel hair-blend sweatshirt from SSAM.

I’ve been thinking about Tom coming back since really the moment he left for this work trip.

A bit because I miss him when he’s gone now and also a bit because I know I have to tell him about BJ, and it makes me feel a little queasy.

Tom hands me a La Mer gift bag full to the brim and I marvel up at him.

“Peeked in your bathroom before I left,” he says.

I empty the contents out on my bed. “How was your trip?” I ask the jar of Creme de la Mer.

“Good.” He nods. “Bit longer than I like, but I always like New York.”

“I quite like New York too,” I tell him. “Were I not in London, that’s where I’d be.”

“Magnolia Parks—not in London?” He smiles playfully at me. “Wouldn’t be London.”

He sits down on my bed, leans back against the headboard.

We don’t do sleepovers like BJ and I do.

Did? Do? Will do again?

BJ and I haven’t been doing sleepovers much ourselves anyway—but if we were, he’d never sit on my bed with outside shoes on.

BJ would never. BJ would do a lot of other things though.

Tom picks up my Paddington Bear that I’ve had all my life and tugs at his ear.

It makes me feel funny because the only other person who I’d ever let hold him is Beej and Tom’s holding him now and maybe that means something.

“I had fun with you the other night,” he tells me but his eyes are on the bear.

I chew my bottom lip. I’m nervous. What am I nervous for?

“Me too.” I take my Paddington from him and set him on my bedside table. I look down at Tom, fight the urge I have to push my hand through his dark blonde hair. “Are you feeling better about Clara?”

He rubs his stubble absentmindedly as he nods.

“Kind of,” he says, eyes and mind somewhere else. Then he looks up at me. “We could never happen—I know that. I didn’t mean to—you know? It just…” he trails.

“Right.” I nod.

“It’s hard.” He shrugs. “Me aside, for Sam—I’m wrecked but—” He shrugs again.

Shrugs it off, almost? Like he doesn’t want the fullness of thought that’s bashing into him right now.

I sit down on the bed, tucking my feet under me.

He gives me a tired smile that I know is the smile he does when he’s in his head about his brother. “What’d you do while I was gone?”

I lick my bottom lip and take a breath. “Um—right,” I sigh. And I see it on Tom—he steels himself. “Beej and I kissed,” I tell him.

“Oh, whoa.” His head pulls back and he blinks six times in quick succession. “Wow. Okay.”

He nods to himself, and then looks up at me, face all strained. “I’m happy for you.”

My face falters. “Are you?”

I almost don’t want him to be.

Tom sniffs a laugh. “No, not really.”

He lets out a single laugh again, and I match it. I feel myself frowning a lot. And my chest feels heavy. And I hate the eyes Tom’s giving me without meaning to. A bit sad, a bit lost, a bit alone.

He breathes out. “So this is probably the end of the line for us?”

I purse my mouth and barely shrug. “I guess?”

He nods a few times then scowls. “Fuck.”

“What?” I chew on the inside of my bottom lip.

“I don’t know—” Tom shakes his head, shoves a hand through his hair. “So we’re really calling time on this?”

I blow out a breath, my hands on both my cheeks. “I don’t know?”

He blinks again, surprised. “You don’t know?”

I don’t say anything—I just frown.

He swings his legs off my bed and stands, scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you with BJ?”

I stand up, but I don’t feel too tall. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to be?”

My frown deepens. “I think so, but—”

“But what?” he asks quickly, all of him on edge.

I give him a look and he raises his eyebrows at it.

“You’re going to make me say it?” I blink at him.

He nods, obstinate. “Yeah, I think you should—”

“Why?” I frown. “This was your fucking idea.”

“My idea?” He gestures at himself, eyes wide.

“It was literally your actual idea,” I yell. “In the bar. After the club. In the corner. It was y—”

And then he grabs my face and kisses me, so I stop talking, I think. It would have knocked me over were he not already holding me—

“You still haven’t said it,” Tom says, his mouth still against mine.

I kiss him once more and then pull back.

He plants my feet back on the ground, but I didn’t realise I’d left it.

“I like you,” I tell him with a small nod, whose decisiveness feels like an assault to BJ.

He smiles down at me. “I like you too.”

I cover my face with my hands. “Goddamn it.”

He peels my hands off of me, and ducks down so we’re eye to eye.

“This is me tossing my hat in the ring,” he tells me. “Just so you know.”

Then he pecks me on the lips again and walks out the door.