Annaleigh - Chapter Five
Joan's Night
Move through the story:
Erin — One | Two | Three | Six
Annaleigh — Four
Don’t worry, first-time readers, you haven’t missed Chapter 4!
Because of the Rashomon quality of this novella, I want folks to pop around and experience events as they like. With that in mind — thanks to everyone who took my poll at the end of Chapter Three. “Author’s Choice” was the overwhelming answer, so I’ve decided we’ll leave Annaleigh to her mystery for now. I’m not sure we’re ready for the tonal shift to Joan — she’s a bit pedantic — but let’s go see!
If you missed the first three chapters — all from Erin’s POV — feel free to skip-back at any time!
V
Joan’s Night
When Tom messaged me — out of the blue, by the way — on Livejournal, I can’t deny I was surprised. We were never particularly close in high school. Sure, we had all the same honors classes, and he was the only one erudite enough to challenge me in debate club, but I’d never thought much of him. I’d never thought much of any guy, to be honest.
I wasn’t a prude. I was just focused. And boys were messy.
Then Tom showed up tonight and he wasn’t a boy.
There are at least twenty other words and phrases — in English alone — to describe what Tom is now, but “hot” is the most effective. So, I hope you’ll forgive the lack of creativity. I think it best conveys the point.
Suddenly there was a man in front of me. Brains, body, and apparently interested in me.
I was never the best judge of these things. Erin either had to spell it out to me or the guy needed to make a completely unwelcome pass at me, so it was obvious.
Maybe I was oblivious.
I should use that as a counter-argument the next time I’m accused of being a prude. Self-deprecation always improves the efficacy of dismissive statements and excuses. You should try it the next time you’re attempting to dissuade or persuade someone.
And yes, my internal monologue often takes the form of punchy phrases fit for self-help books.
My forthcoming tome is called, “You Should Do It.” It’s close to the Nike slogan, but far enough to evade copyright issues. I’d tell you more about it, but I find didactic books can be quickly condensed to ten or less main tenets. So, I’d rather retain my arguments for when you read the book. No need to “blow my load,” as they say.
Coming back to the point of things, after several asides, which I do hope you’ll forgive me for; my mind often digresses on one too many tangents at once. Though, don’t worry, I’ve reeled things in for my book.
The most important fact is that Tom wasn’t the only surprise of the evening.
__ __
I hadn’t been to the pie shop in a while, but I always loved it there. Diners have a homey, welcoming feel, like they belong to everyone. So, I always felt like this one belonged to me.
Tom had his arm around me and I was comfortable.
I’ve been told that I exude confidence. But as I said before, I’m oblivious. So it’s a baseless compliment, to me. Still, I imagine I looked confident.
Meanwhile, Hannah — I mean Annaleigh — probably looked exactly the opposite, to a normal person. But, I’m not the best at reading people’s faces, so my curiosity easily got the better of me. As soon as the conversation hit a lull, I asked the question that was searing in my skull.
“So, Hannah, why did you change your name?” I asked.
Tom coughed next to me, in the same way Erin often does when I’ve been too blunt. And Annaleigh’s face was more obviously uncomfortable to me now. So I quickly followed up with something kinder.
“I wish we’d stayed in touch so I had known,” I added.
“A lot has changed in eight years,” Annaleigh said. She cast her eyes down and I was probably meant to take this as a sign not to ask more questions, but I couldn’t help myself.
“How’s your family doing? Your parents always seemed so exotic, off to here and there,” I said, in what I hoped was a cheery tone.
“I’m sure they’re fine. I don’t see them much,” Annaleigh said softly.
Tom poked my knee with his free hand and shook his head at me.
Got it. Don’t ask more questions. I tried to think of some smalltalk, but I already knew how the weather had been and I had already shared my anecdote about the pie shop. I wasn’t sure what else a person should say to someone they hadn’t seen in eight years.
Tom came to my rescue, but I missed his exact comment because I was thinking about how it would be to debate side-by-side instead of against one another. That was a pretty sexy thought. Although the sex would probably be better if we were throwing out points and counterpoints. Creating friction.
My mind was drifting.
“Joan?” Tom said expectantly.
“Sorry,” I said, “My mind was wandering. What were you saying?”
“I was saying maybe we should leave Annaleigh and Nate to their evening,” Tom said.
I liked that idea. Maybe I could test my theory about having a debate in bed. Erin probably wouldn’t be home yet, and even if she was, I doubt she’d begrudge me; I never brought boys home and she brought them home somewhat frequently.
I blinked away some vivid imagery of Tom and I, sweaty and tangled, and remembered I was meant to reply. “Yeah. Let’s go. You can walk me home.”
Tom got out of the booth and offered me his hand. Such a gentleman.
As he walked me out of the pie shop, my head filled with its typical plethora of questions. What would have happened if I had noticed Tom more in high school? Would we have dated? Or would I be pining after him like Erin and her pop-tart crush? Was I right to leave Erin at the party alone? She looked like she had been having fun with Ted. But maybe I was wrong.
Either Tom was a mind reader, or some part of my internal babble had escaped my mouth because Tom said, “I’m sure Erin’s fine. Ted may have even worked up the courage to make a move on her.”
Tom paused and pulled me into him. He looked at me a moment, maybe picking his argument, then tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “So, have I earned the right to kiss this beautiful head of yours?” he asked.
“Straight for the kill,” I sighed, placing a hand on Tom’s chest. I’ve never been a gym-fit fetishist, but I may have been revising my opinion.
Tom smiled, “I can be blunt when I want to be.”
And then I kissed him, because I didn’t see the point of wasting more words. We could argue more later.
Move through the story:
Erin — One | Two | Three | Six
Annaleigh — Four