Breakdown - Tom Petty

Refugee

The urge to call Ayla back, though it had been three days since they had last spoken to one another, was almost irresistible to Tom. He had enjoyed speaking to her. Her voice had been like rain on his ears, which were a barren wasteland once present of crop. His life seemed to blossom more ever since the one phone call with Ayla. If anything, it had been one incredible miracle she had taken the chance to call upon him, when Tom had no way to do so for her. He was grateful for that, for the opportunities that came along with it.

He had a mild suspicion Ayla was in a new relationship. One question lingered in Tom's mind: Could Ayla have moved on so fast? She had, surely, been certain she would kick Tom out of the house, when, in the end, she had been the one to call it quits. She had been the one to leave him alone. But she had also been the one to call, and that had to mean something.

Tom thought about these things as he smoked yet another cigarette for the day. He wanted something stronger, but he also wanted to keep his mind clear and think. Thinking about Ayla seemed to only fog his mind deeper. There were indeed endless possibilities within. Ayla could well have been in a relationship with someone else. Tom had mused over the idea before...So, why did it make his breathing almost cease, and his heart speed up? Why did Ayla have this much control over him? One moment, he was doing alright without her, and just the second she returns into his life, Tom freaks out about the tiniest things. Tom knew and, yet, did not know why he was feeling the way he was. But it all came down to one thing: he still cared about Ayla. And that wouldn't be going away any time soon.

~
When Ayla had set down the phone three nights ago, she had thought that would be all; that she had removed him from her own life just as quickly as she had brought him back. Thomas was in her subconscious the rest of the night, even if he was not the one across from her in the diner.

"What is it? You're so distracted tonight." The man's gruff voice crept into her ears.

"It's nothing, just thinking." About another guy, who's nicer and actually treats me right, Ayla added on silently.

"About what - another guy?" He laughed, a sound as hideous as his voice.

"No, I was thinking about the fact the waitress is coming over with our drinks."

That shut him up. As soon as the waitress walked up to their table, he made a not so subtle attempt at checking her out. His eyes flickered down to her feet then up again. It was only when Ayla cleared her throat that he stopped this act and thanked the waitress for the drinks. She left, cheeks turning pink.

Ayla took a small sip from her drink, glancing over at her date as she did so. It was a loose form of the word to call the man across from her her date. They were hardly friends, but he had reminded her a bit of Tom's friend, Mike Campbell, at first. However, as much as he did look like Mike, the personality was absent.

He met her glance with his ever-constant piercing dark eyes. He was smirking, as if he thought he was the one present in her mind, the one who kept her up at night when she was truly deep within her thoughts. He wasn't, clearly, but he liked to think he was. He offered her a cigarette, and she denied it. It took him a good two minutes past to remember she had a thing against cigarettes, at least more recently.

What was her name anyway? Something that began with an A...Allison? Alissa? Amy?

"It's Ayla," she provided, with a bit more of sass than he had expected. But whatever. It wasn't his fault he had best to no memory.

"Nice to meet you at last, Ayla, my dear." He saw her eyes narrow slightly at the word, but the moment passed and her eyes relaxed.

The waitress returned, with their food. She sent one sympathetic look at Ayla, and did not even for a second lock eyes with the man. There was something in his eyes that was so different than the storm brewing up in his date's. Then, she walked to another table and the moment passed.