♬ ♫♬ ♫
Tara wears her new nightgown, the one she ordered online. White silk, thin straps, it hugs her curves and hangs down to her ankles. Tom stands in the shadows, illuminated only by the streetlight behind him. Tara can't see the expression on his face.
She doesn't need to.
"You called the police," he says.
"I did."
He steps forward, into her apartment. "A detective showed up at my office. My work."
Tara shuts the door behind him and follows him down the hallway. Tom turns abruptly, almost running into her. He places a hand against her chest; she steps backward until she hits the wall.
His face is so close to hers she can see his pupils.
Watches them dilate.
"It worked," she says. "Didn't it?"
Tom doesn't argue. He knows it's true.
Once you start crossing lines, the road back is too crooked, too difficult to follow. Easier to keep going forward.
He presses her against the wall. She feels the heat from his fingertips as he leans in close, his lips almost touching hers. His hand slides down, across the front of her nightgown, between her breasts, and stops at her waist.
She holds her breath.
He pulls his hand away.
Tom steps back and turns from her. She exhales hard.
"No," he says, shaking his head.
No.
Wes uses that word like it's a weapon. He also said it the last time she saw him.
Four months ago, at an engagement party in Sacramento. Tara knew Tom would be there, so she brought a date. James was a guy she had met online. He wasn't very bright but he looked good.
Very good.
The party was fancy; the bride and groom both worked in tech and had money to burn.
Open bar, fresh flowers everywhere, two different bands, and a never - ending flow of champagne.
And this was just the warm - up to the real thing: the wedding.
Tom brought a date of his own, a blonde with huge breasts and a too - small dress.
Vanessa or Veronica, or who the hell cares what her name was - she looked fantastic, and everyone knew it. But Tom seemed more concerned with the guy Tara brought.
They spoke once, near the buffet table, when he came up behind her.
"Tara."
"Tom." She said it before turning around, taking her time filling up a small plate with finger foods.
"How are you?" he had asked her.
She finally turned. As always, he stunned her. It was the way he looked, or maybe the way he looked at her. She struggled to respond quickly.
"I'm well," she had answered. "You?"
"Living the dream."
"Good for you."
Behind him, at a table, she could see his date. The blonde was talking to someone beside her, paying no attention to Tom.
'Did you find her on Tinder?" Tara said.
Tom nodded toward another table, where
Tara's date sat quietly, waiting for her to return.
Not the most outgoing guy, but James didn't have to be. He looked like he was posing for a magazine.
"And him?" Tom said.
"What about him?"
Tom smiled. "No."
He turned around and walked away.
Now here he is in her apartment, saying no again but for a different reason.
Not that it matters.
This time, he doesn't mean it.
Tara walks up behind him, pushes up on her tiptoes, and whispers in his ear.
"Liar."
The thing is ...
The thing is ...
Tom doesn't know what the thing is, not when Tara is right up in his ear. When he needs rational thought the most, that definitely isn't the thing.
She has always done this to him. Starting way back in school, when they first went out.
Dates weren't really dates back then, because they were both broke, so creativity was in order.
Coffee was affordable enough.
Hiking was free. So they did both - her suggestion.
Frog Pond Trail wasn't far, and it wasn't a long hike. Not difficult, either. At least not according to the internet. But it was full of picturesque views of the water and the ridge and everything nature had to offer. Tom suggested they try it on their first date.
She agreed.
The sun was shining - not a cloud in the sky - and it all went well for the first hour and a half. They chatted about their backgrounds, stopping to take pictures every twenty feet or so. The internet wasn't wrong about the views.
Tara suddenly stopped. "I've had all the beautiful scenery I can take for one day," she said.
He had been thinking the same thing.
The trail ahead sloped down and then up.
In the distance, a giant tree stood out among the rest. He nodded toward it. "Wanna race?" Instead of answering, she took off running.
He was already a few steps behind, so he went off - trail, cutting across the hill on the left. The path was rougher, and he had to jump over a log or two, but it was the only way to get ahead.
He had almost done it when she fell.
They were less than twenty feet away from the tree when it happened, and he had been moving back toward the trail. As soon as she went down, he stopped.
She blocked the fall with her hands, ended up on her knees, and turned over to sit in the dirt. He sat down beside her.
"I guess you won," she said.
Her hands were scratched up, covered in dirt and tiny pebbles. He wiped them clean, one by one, and then moved on to her knee.
Scraped, but it wasn't too bad. He poured water over it.
"You okay?" he said.
She didn't answer.
She kissed him.
To this day, he can't describe that kiss, can't capture it with words. But when he closes his eyes, he can feel it.
It's the reason he turns around to face Tara now.
She was right.
He was lying when he said no.
♬ ♫♬ ♫
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