Love & Great Buildings

EIGHT

The sidewalks were relatively crowded for so early on a weekday afternoon, but Tom played it little mind. The neighborhood was a relatively quiet one and he was hardly ever bothered walking in and around it. He'd made the decision to take them both on a few warm up laps through the quiet streets of his neighborhood before heading towards the ironed gates of the nearby park. The park was only a five minute walk from the house and had been one of the reasons he'd chosen to live there in the first place. It was large and had a long, winding path that was an excellent jogging site and one he frequented as often as he could.

An hour later saw Tom, and Bobby, making their second circuit around the leafy paved jogging path in the park. His head was markedly clearer but the heaviness that had come with it was still there. Bobby, for his part, seemed completely content. He'd kept a good pace with his master, stopping only occasionally when a particular tree or object caught his attention. A marked change from his puppyhood days where any and everything was both a potential friend and a dangerous enemy all at once. What a difference a few years made, Tom thought to himself with a breathless laugh.

Tom began to slow as they approached an empty bench along the path. The lace of his left trainer had loosened significantly during his run and he could feel the shoe slipping with each stride he took. The last thing he wanted was for the damned thing to come off or to trip him up. Because he knew that was when a lone photographer would be certain to show and preserve the moment for posterity. Especially given the way his luck had been running as of late. Luke would just find that fucking hilarious.

With a shake of his head, Tom propped his foot up on the bench, bending to tighten the loosened laces. His breathing was coming in harsh pants, his chest burning with the effort. God, he really was frighteningly out of shape. He'd cut back a bit on his running during the winter months; he still went as faithfully as he could every morning but not for anywhere near his usual distance, and now he was clearly paying for it. Bobby, who's lead had been tied to the bench leg as he was oft to go 'exploring' if left unattended, bounced around Tom barking every so often at a passing jogger or squirrel, it didn't much seem to matter which.

As he bent to his task, Tom heard rather than saw the women who had knelt beside the now jumping dog, scratching behind his ears and telling him in a soft, sweet voice just how handsome he was. The voice was strangely familiar though he couldn't seem to place exactly why. Laces finally tied, he turned to face the woman and Bobby. Tom worked to quickly school his features into warm, but neutral politeness. He'd had far too many 'chance' encounters with women; mostly fans and, thankfully, mostly harmless, in the last few years to not be at least somewhat on his guard. He startled as a strangely familiar mass of red hair caught his attention.

Surely not.

The woman raised her head at Tom's movement and he watched, torn between amusement and alarm, as Jules' eyes widened in recognition. Speak of the devil, he thought with a flash of amusement. He watched as they quickly narrowed into green slits before slowly relaxing back into a carefully controlled neutrality. Jules stood staring at him, arms crossed at her chest. "Tom," she stated, her voice a shade too even. Too controlled.

"Jules," he responded, his own voice as even as he could make it. He offered her a friendly smile and then, not quite knowing what else to do, he continued, "And how have you been?" As soon as the words left his lips he regretted them. His words sounded flippant and dismissive even to his own ears. God only knew how she would take them. Of all the stupid things he could have possibly said...

"I honestly don't have any desire to talk niceties with you," she snapped back, her eyes narrowing once more at him.

Tom felt himself flinch. Her dislike of him clearly hadn't been exaggerated, not that he believed Rosie would have done such a thing. He let out a resigned sigh. Well there went any hope of a polite encounter. He took a deep breath to gather himself and held his hands palms up in a gesture of surrender. "Look, I know you don't like me," he started, eyes settled on her face. "And honestly I can't say that I blame you...."