Authors: Poppet
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You see! I knew it. There had to be a reason Tom wanted me to go shopping with him. He wants a female opinion on his choice of clothing. In other words, "Do I look hot in this?"
What's really funny is that this morning I walked into the kitchen to make coffee, still wearing my pyjamas, where I encountered Zeke already there making himself a cup of tea. We've lived together for a week now, but I leave for work before him, so we hardly ever cross paths. And yesterday morning he was at Selene's after staying the night. So my shock was that I waltzed into the kitchen to find him standing there in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Ohmigod! I couldn't stop myself from calling him chicken legs. You cannot imagine when you see a man in jeans and shirts what his legs look like.
Zeke seems so bulky, but it's all arms, chest and shoulders. Mr Lats has no calves! He looks just like a chicken! And I don't think he'll ever forgive me for popping his ego with that blurted out remark. Although one afternoon after work, I walked in, and he was sitting at the kitchen counter with a gun laid out in pieces in front of him. That freaked me out. He seemed quite blasé about the fact that he was cleaning his gun. So he's not just built to squeeze your skull in with one hand, but he's packing as back up too. Best I don't tease him too much about having KFC legs.
"And this?"
Returning my attention to Tom, "Yeah, looks good."
Ass; he's such a prick. He's now trying to shock me by taking the jeans he just tried on, off, right in front of me. God he loves himself. He's parading for all the boys and girls to have a peek. Except, oh lordy! Darling, that will never do. Although in his defence, his legs are a lot hotter than Zeke's.
"Um, Tom."
He pauses, an evil grin displayed between designer stubble. He thinks I'm about to drool. Reality check.
"Yes?"
"You are never going to get laid in underwear that gross."
"What's wrong with my underwear?"
EVERYTHING! Y-fronts went out of fashion with the cold war!
"Any girl seeing that won't ever call you again. Haven't you heard of Calvin Klein?"
"Yeah, obviously."
"Yeah, so? Mark Wahlberg ring a bell? If you spend that much time earning a six-pack and pecs, you don't want to blow your lick-appeal with those. Hot underwear leaves a lasting impression, trust me."
He gives me a strange look. Instantly self-conscious he disappears back into the change rooms. He's all business when he reappears, hooking my elbow with his arm and shunting me to the men's underwear where he nudges his head at rows of briefs, "Go on then."
"Go on what?"
"Pick out underwear for me."
Lordy, I've never had to buy men's underwear before, and somehow this wasn't how I pictured it was going to be when I did. But I peruse the racks and pick out what I think would look good. Gary is the model I think of. When he dropped his jeans I just wanted to shag the bastard. Grumpy with that thought, I shove a pile of the black, pure white, burgundy, and dark navy short looking undies at him. "Here."
He inspects them with concentration, replacing them with the right size, and off we go to the check out point. Thank God. Ten minutes later he's treating me to coffee in a little café right underneath the escalators in the mall.
Relaxing I watch him as I sip my mochaccino. Look at him! He's bloody scandalous! He rubber necks more than half the women in here, and then leans back to stare up their skirts as they take the escalator. He shoots me a sardonic grin, "Now she's hot."
"You are an education and a half."
He smiles again, laughing indulgently. He kicks my foot with his under the table, "Thanks."
"For what?"
"All your help."
I nod. Whatever. I guess Tom could always be my back-up date for weddings. I'm not even remotely attracted to him, which means I can get plastered and maintain my dignity in the process.
Forty-three minutes later I'm delighted to be stretched out on the couch at home while Zeke makes me coffee and Selene chooses a CD, when Tom whistles for me from the passage leading to the bedrooms. "Stefanie, come here a sec."
Half-heartedly I push myself off the couch, padding barefoot to the passage where Tom is standing in
only
new underwear. Jesus Tom!
"Whaddayathink?"
He does the model thing for me, turning around to show off his new man-undies. Damn, okay, now even I have to admit he looks good in those. Not that I'd ever tell him. I give him an approving nod, "Much better."
For half a second the bravado drops and he looks at me with all his insecurity exposed, piercing green eyes worried, "But are they sexy?"
I can't stop the smile, "Yes Tom, very sexy."
His smile is lip splitting, the arrogance pops back into his visage and he turns, wiggles his ass and disappears back into Zeke's bedroom. I return to the lounge with Selene giving me a suspicious stare, "What's going on?"
"Nothing." I grin and flop back into my chair.
And before I can prove my innocence, Tom reappears pulling his shirt over his head, flops down next to me, splays an arm around my shoulders and gives me a crushing hug to his side, "This is my girl."
Great, just great. I'm going to be in shit with Selene ’cos now she thinks I just scored. Fucking fabulous.
Zeke joins us with coffee, deliberately squashing his impossible bulk between me and Tom, announcing, "Not on my watch."
Tom punches his leg. Ouch. God that must have hurt. "She rocks, I should have had a girl friend years ago."
Zeke hands me his coffee to choke Tom round the neck, and I'm so concerned about spilling I scoot off the couch with a mug in each hand.
"Fuck off, Tom," accompanies lots of wrestling.
Tom starts laughing, his ponytail stuck under Zeke's thick forearm. "Chill out moron. I meant for shopping."
Selene gives me an odd stare again, "You went shopping?"
I nod, "Yes. It was an education."
Tom winks at me, enjoying arousing suspicion, giving me his 'I'm so irresistible' smile, "It sure was."
Let's start a rumour shall we? He has no idea what it's like being in shit with a girlfriend. Thanks asshole.
The thing is, you can't help but like him. Yes he's arrogant, and yes he's vain, but he's also normal. Watching Zeke and Tom interacting is liberating. This is probably the best way to expose myself to the rest of the world's normal. Oh and speaking of chicken legs, that's probably what Selene finds delicious in Zeke. Since I've known her, she's always fallen for the anorexic, just out of rehab types. I never thought I'd see her with someone who's six-foot-two and built like a man. She dates broom handles. I now know that Zeke is six foot tall exactly.
The four of us have become the new clique. We get takeout, rent movies, and go out together. It's been four weeks of no stress normal. Gary hasn't phoned me, no drama, none of the ex-friends have bombarded my life with hate mail, and I'm finally in that place where I know men and women can be just friends, no funny business.
Going out as Tom's sidekick is like hanging out with a jock brother. It's nice to know he's there, and it's purely platonic. Oh, and can I just mention, Tom is a terrible slut! I thought I had an idea of cold-hearted flirting. That guy is incorrigible, and he never gets a number because he doesn't intend on seeing her ever again. Like I said, he's an education. Although, I have to say, he did mention the underwear works.
Chapter 41
Marmalade
Here we are, again. But it's just the four of us this time. The Swinging Door is my new haunt. You know, Gary never danced with me. Ever! I'm still astounded that Zeke dances with Selene, which usually leaves me dancing next to Tom while we both check out the talent. Crikey it's hot in here. I'm going outside for a smoke.
The Swinging Door has an open rooftop where you can cool off in the night air. Finding a quiet step to sit on, I relax and enjoy a solitary smoke. Now I'm reminded of why I don't do this often. This is the lover's nook. Fuckenhell, why don't you guys go home and get a room? Ugh. I guess I'll disappear inside again.
Actually this song rocks. Standing on my smoke to snuff it out, I launch through the open doors, strutting my jeaned ass back to my peeps on the dance floor. The dance floor is down three steps, no matter which side you approach it from, which gives someone as short as me a perfect view of the claustrophobic mass of bodies writhing together, hair flaying, sexing it up with lyrics and hip sways. When a man turns around, halfway through the throng from me. My heart boings when he gives me the happiest smile I've ever seen. RICHARD!
I know I'm smiling back like an idiot. Yay! He's walking straight to me and his friends are smiling like their buddy just won the lottery. What sweet friends. Gary's crowd really suck septic piles don't they?
"Good evening Lady Marmalade." Gosh he's all hot and sweaty, and from this vantage I can see inside his button down shirt. YUM!
"Good evening, Richard." I came so close to calling him Dick. Why does my perverse sense of humour always have to fuck with me when it seriously matters?
"Where's your bodyguard?"
I point over to Tom, where he's dancing with the lovebirds. He catches the gesture and smiles at me, waving. He then gives Richard a nod of acknowledgement, which he returns.
Richard steps up. Hello, he's two steps below me and he's still taller than me!
"I'm buying you a drink."
Oooh, Mr Assertive is in the house tonight ladies and gentlemen. But I'm more than happy to comply, letting him hook an arm around my waist and lead me right back the way I just came. Up the black pit of darkness to the upper level. The bar is conveniently right next to the doors leading outside.
"What will it be?"
"Coke please."
"Just Coke?"
"Yes." I give him the challenge stare. I want to stay sober so that I don't make an ass of myself around you. Do you have a problem with that?
"Okay." I watch him lean over the bar without any effort and order drinks. When I order drinks I have to stand on the foot bar to lean over the counter to yell my order to the bartender to be heard over the music. Not fair! Oooh, nice view from here. I've got a swarm of fireflies dancing in my stomach. They're lighting up and giving me a warm glow. Oh dear. I haven't thought about sex once in five weeks. Look what you've done, you naughty man.
And off we go outside, where it's quiet enough to have an intimate conversation. He sits next to me, his leg touching the length of mine. Happy sigh.
"So who is that guy?"
"Tom."
He gives me a solemn stare. I just want to kiss him, his reaction at seeing me was so heart warming. He's so lovely to look at. How do men manage to be manly and look like they need someone to take care of them, all at the same time? "Tom is the best friend to the guy dating my best friend."
"That couple you're always with?"
"Yes."
"Aaaah." He pauses and takes a sip of his drink. Perfect profile, and he smells nice too. He puts his glass down next to him on the step, then captures my hand in both of his, giving it a squeeze and staring into my eyes again, "It's nice to see you again Marmalade."
"My name's Stefanie."
"Not Shirley?"
"No."
"I can't believe a word you say, can I?"
"Yes you can."
"Oh really?"
He looks utterly bemused, a wry twist of humour pouting his lips. Oh look, a dimple in his chin. Please nudge me if I start drooling. "I went through a bad break-up. When you last saw me, I just wanted to be left alone. I called myself Shirley because I Shirley wanted to do everything I wasn't allowed to do with my ex."
He's frowning now. "I remember him. That blonde guy you used to come here with?"
I nod. A lump of emotion has just formed in my throat and I can't breathe. Long ago Gary was normal with me.
"So who are you seeing now? Is he a husband or a boyfriend?"
"Not seeing anyone," I reassure him. Come on! Cut me some slack here.
"So Tom isn't your secret boyfriend who's going to beat my head in for talking to you?"
I can't suppress the laugh at the thought of demented Tom being my boyfriend, "Oh no. Definitely not."
He gives me that pensive frown again, latching beautiful brown eyes onto my blue ones. There's just something about him that oozes gentle. "What? Don't you like studs like Tom?"
I shake my head, "Nope. I like my men normal. Lean and clean."
Haha! He just checked his fingernails. Do I make everyone paranoid?
Breaking the silence I ask, "Why do you call me Marmalade?"
"It's just a name I refer to you as. I never knew your name, I had to call you something."
"So when are you going to shut up and kiss me?"
Well that certainly flabbergasted him. He drew himself to sit upright. He's seriously tall. Now I have to look up, the intimacy of him leaning his head in to be next to mine vanishing fast. He keeps holding my hand, working my fingers as if they're worry beads imparting good luck.