Tom knew. Of course, he did. He was a smart man, one who took observations in what was around him. It had been pretty damn obvious that Ayla had taken a liking to him. She just would not admit it, and Tom was fine with that for now.
~
She had denied it God knows how many times. Tom would ask her to a diner, and she would say, "Oh, no. I'm sorry, Tom, but I already had plans, dear."
Tom had thought, perhaps, Ayla had a boyfriend or a lover of some sort, but he had never seen her lingering on the phone late at nights or returning with her lipstick smeared, typical signs of her relationship. Living with her in the same house, Tom should have noticed these things, but he had not. Because they were simply not there. Nonexistent, like Ayla's boyfriend.
Besides, she had called him dear, and Ayla was usually one to stray away from pet names. If there was a single person who deserved a pet name, in her mind it would have been Tom. And he knew that, too.
Like Ayla's crush she kept denying, it was known in both of their minds that a single, twenty-three year old in denial of a simple petty crush (no pun intended), was bound to be different compared to the women Tom had dated. In a way, that was what Ayla was.
Just the past year, she had started up a soda-drinking game, as she did not have a fondness of drinking, as she put it. Tom played, with the usual alcoholic drinks. The game had been childish and yet adult-like all the same: Simon Says, and the loser had to give up their drink. Whoever won claimed all the drinks. It was Tom who won, and he had drank a small amount of the drinks before claiming it was enough, the drinkers could have their drinks back. And they did. The night had ended up with Ayla driving Tom home. The following morning had begun with Ayla awakening to Tom's arms around her. A soft murmur of, "Don't leave me. Don't let go..." His words were slurred, but Ayla still heard what he said. Drunk or sober, Tom was different, too.
As much as the strong, strange feeling of what Ayla thought to be delight, the moment ended quickly with Tom waking up, stretching his arms. A yawn left him. He covered it with a hand and looked at Ayla. He was shocked, and apologized quickly, glad that nothing had happened between them.
Well, you know, besides Tom's drunk muttering, Ayla recalled.
But that meant nothing. Completely unlike her feelings for Tom.
They were strong, overwhelming her almost. A delayed affliction of teenage hormones, she should have outgrown them. But she had not. That was the thing about her crush on Tom. She should have outgrown that, too. Her mind must have been stubborn; she had outgrown education and childish activities like playgrounds. But she had not outgrown her crush. And it would take a while to do so. That was, if ever.
If ever, Tom thought, she does, she'll turn right around and renew her feelings. He had seen it happen before, and he knew the thought was right. Without knowing it, Ayla Reddings had wicked ways of denying what she felt. But Tom had his own ways to be wicked. Ayla, better watch out, he thought. Because two can play at this game.