by Ellen Devlin
Liz turned to Tom to say goodbye and caught him looking briefly wide-eyed at Chris. He recovered quickly and turned to Liz. “It was great to meet you.”
“You too.” She smiled, looked into his stunningly gorgeous blue eyes, and noticed that they were framed by unreasonably long, thick lashes. She started toward him as if to give him a hug, gave a small lurch, and held out her hand for a handshake, all the while feeling like there was a small group of creatures cavorting through her insides. Possibly otters. “See you soon.”
Tom had leaned toward her for a goodbye hug—hadn’t he seen her hug almost everyone at the party the entire day? He saw her outstretched hand and caught himself short, staring at it. He took her hand, shook it as he had when they had met earlier that day, and repeated, “See you soon.”
As she made her escape, Tom shot a questioning look at Chris. Chris couldn’t decide between shock and laughter. “Don’t look at me, Micky. I have no clue what that was about. I have seen her hug a perfect stranger, because ‘it seemed like the right thing to do.’” He used air quotes for emphasis. “Which it was, by the way. I can’t ever figure out how she does that. But honest to God, Mick,” he had started laughing by this point, “I have never seen her do that. Maybe the stink of the Montreal locker room hasn’t washed off yet.”
“Fuck off, Becks,” Tom said, laughing. The insulting banter made him feel more comfortable, which was exactly what Chris had intended.
***
“You did what? You didn’t. I don’t believe you.” Paige and Liz were standing by Liz’s car.
“Why would I make this up? I. Shook. His. Hand. I feel…I can’t even think of words that express how stupid I feel.” Liz covered her eyes.
“Fatuous?” Paige suggested. “Silly? Idiotic? Absurd?” Paige was a high school English teacher.
“Stop! Yes. All those things.” She looked through her fingers. “I told you this was a bad idea. I looked in his eyes, and I panicked. They’re really blue. Really, really blue. With long, dark lashes.”
Paige’s phone chimed with a message. She looked quickly and smiled. “Well, you’re stuck, because we’re going out tomorrow night. Chris just made reservations in Old Town.” Another chime. She laughed. “And he wants to know what the hell is wrong with you.”
Liz sighed. “I promise to be better tomorrow night. I will focus.” She put her hand up sideways in front of her face in a visual representation of how focused she would be.
Paige hugged her friend. “We’ll have a good time tomorrow night. Micky is smart and funny, Liz. You will like him, not just the way he looks. I promise.”
As she turned and walked back toward the house, Liz heard her saying, “She shook his hand. Unbelievable.”
Chapter Two
The four of them met the next evening at a nice restaurant in the historic DC suburb of Old Town Alexandria. Tom was at the meeting place when Liz arrived; Paige and Chris were running a few minutes late.
She took a deep breath as she walked up, said, “Hi, Tom,” with a big smile, and gave him a solid, normal, this-is-how-I-greet-my-friends hug. She stepped back and took another deep breath. “Sorry about last night. That was exceptionally weird of me. I would hate to start this evening out awkwardly because of it.”
He gave her a really big smile…does he look relieved?…and said, “Thanks. I was starting to develop a bit of a complex. Becks was trying to convince me I smelled really bad. Something about spending too much time in Montreal.”
Liz laughed and gestured for him to lean down so she could check. She put her face close to his neck and breathed in…and then wished she had thought about that move before she had done it, because oh, he smelled good. So good. She lingered for a moment breathing him in—there was a little cologne, something outdoorsy that made her think of a forest, and the clean smell of soap or shaving cream—but mostly he just smelled…male. Like she wanted to bury her face in his neck and just breathe him in.
She took a breath to speak, which was not as silent as it should have been, and said, “No. You smell very nice, Tom. That’s definitely not an issue.” Her voice was deeper than normal. She didn’t know how that had happened, and she felt a little dizzy.
Tom closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her warm breath on his neck. He was thinking he should probably stand back up again when he heard her small gasp, and by the time she had spoken, he was thinking he might have started enjoying this a little too much. And there was definitely something about the way she called him Tom, rather than Micky. It somehow felt as warm as her breath, and distracting.
He stood up, and they both turned as they heard Chris and Paige call out in greeting, and the spell was broken. Paige and Chris both solemnly walked up to Liz and offered their hands for handshakes. Liz swatted them away, called them both intolerable bastards, and gave them both hugs while the four of them laughed together.
The restaurant was on the waterfront with a beautiful view, and the menu featured interesting variations on standard American fare, with a nod toward East Coast seafood. The company was excellent, and time flew by with laughing and storytelling, mostly Tom and Chris sharing hilarious team stories, some of which were even new to Paige.
After the dinner had been cleared away, Paige excused herself to the ladies’ room, and for a moment the topic turned to fandom rather than playing. “So do you get into all the player stats and trades, all the nitty gritty details?” Tom asked Liz.
“Absolutely not,” she replied with a laugh. “Honestly, I just enjoy watching the game. I understand what’s going on, you know, but I have almost zero idea what play the coach should be calling when or even what any of the plays are or why they would be called. When it comes right down to it, I’m always impressed that you guys can do what you do, and on freaking ice skates. And stats are just a bunch of numbers to me.”
Chris laughed, and Tom looked at her oddly.
“What?” she said.
“Just a bunch of numbers?” He made an attempt to look haughty and offended. “I’ll have you know I was an econ major.”
“Seriously?” she asked. She looked totally incredulous, as if such a thing shouldn’t be possible.
Now he did look slightly taken aback. “Not just a dumb jock, Liz.”
“No! No, that’s not at all what I meant,” she quickly corrected. “It’s just that if I had the choice between majoring in econ, or statistics, or anything math-related and, say, poking myself in the eye with a sharp stick, I would have a seriously difficult time choosing.”
Tom laughed. Chris was simply sitting back enjoying the banter between his two good friends.
Paige reappeared at the table, bustling a bit. “Okay, guys, I’ve ordered coffee, and some really great dessert, and paid the bill already, including a nice tip. Unfortunately, Chris and I have to go, because there’s a thing I have to do tomorrow, and I have to prep tonight. I’m so sorry.”
Liz’s mouth dropped open in shock at her friend as Paige came around the table and gave her a big hug.
Chris said, “What thing? Wait, we don’t get dessert?”
“It’s something I forgot about completely, honey. I’m so sorry. All my fault. We have pie at home.” She gave Tom a long hug from behind his chair, pressing her hands across his chest. “Have a great time, you two! Dinner was wonderful! Love you both!”
She grabbed Chris’s hand and practically dragged him away.
Liz looked across the table at Tom as the waiter brought coffee and dessert. It did look amazing, but Liz didn’t see it, because all she could do was stare in pure, abject horror at the two nametags that Paige had stuck to Tom’s chest during her hug. The top one said:
“Hi, My Name Is Micky”
The one immediately beneath it had been altered to read:
“Your Name Is Liz”
“I feel like there might be something here that I’m missing.” Tom’s deep voice pulled her out of her thousand-yard stare. She looked up into his handsome face, which was we
aring quite possibly the most endearing smile she had ever seen in her life. There was simply no getting out of this.
“You’re wearing two nametags,” she said, the corners of her mouth lifting into a smile. “It’s Paige’s way of trying to be a good friend while simultaneously being a colossal, meddling pain in the ass. She knows there’s no reasonable explanation for these,” she waved at the nametags, “except for the real one and that I’m a terrible liar anyway. So she’s forcing my hand.” She shook her head, sighed, picked up her fork, and waved at his dessert plate. “Start enjoying, and I will share my tale,” she said expansively.
Tom was astonished at the rapid turn of events. First, Paige had pulled Chris away so quickly and left them together. Second, Liz had looked completely panicked for a minute, like a deer in headlights, but now looked calm, almost resigned. He picked up his fork and started eating, waiting for any of this to start making sense.
“So,” Liz began, “I don’t know if guys do this, not being one myself, but I will tell you that almost every girl I have ever met in my life has built for themselves some sort of fantasy at some time or another.” She took a bite. “There is usually a leading male role in these fantasies. It might be a different guy in each different storyline, but probably the same basic formula for the guy. It’s a stereotype, but think, ‘tall, dark, and handsome.’
“Some girls get more specific than that. Think, ‘tall, blond, doctor, and loves dogs.’” She took a sip of coffee. “And then there are some girls who take their fantasies to an entirely different level when it comes to specifics. So here’s where you need to follow along carefully, think ‘six-foot-four, shaggy light brown hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders, defenseman on a hockey team, enforcer, amazing smile.’ I could go on, because believe it or not there are a few more, and they all fit, but I’m hoping you’ve gotten the idea by this point.”
Tom was staring at her, his fork halfway to his mouth, wondering if she was kidding.
“So you show up, Paige tells me you are the Micky I’ve been hearing about for years and says Chris has decided that we would get along great and wants us to go out for dinner. I very carefully pointed out to her the details I just mentioned—which she knew, being my best friend for, oh, I don’t know, forever—and explained that it was a terrible idea, because I wouldn’t even be able to remember your name. She suggested a nametag. I said I wouldn’t be able to remember my own name…and here we are.”
Tom finished the last of his dessert quietly, sat back, and looked at her. “So, if I’m understanding this, what you’re saying is that I am your personal fantasy.”
Liz blushed yet again. Three times in two days is definitely a new record. “Yes. Down to the fact that you have really long, thick eyelashes. That’s what I noticed last night, right before my epically awkward handshake.” She giggled. “Seriously, this has wandered so far off into the realm of the ridiculous.”
“You shook my hand because I have nice eyelashes.” Tom was trying not to laugh, but his eyes were starting to shine.
Her giggling was getting louder. “Oh God, can we please leave, because I’m going to laugh really hard, and we might get kicked out otherwise.” Her eyes were bright, and she was shaking.
Tom stood up and grabbed her hand, leading her outside. They made it just around the corner before completely dissolving into paroxysms of laughter. Liz had to lean against the wall of the building, and she was holding her side. She looked up and realized Tom was still wearing the nametags, which started a new fit of giggling.
“You can take those off now. I promise I will be able to remember your name. And mine. Most of the time, anyway. You do know that you’re way too good looking for your own good, right?”
Tom barked out another laugh. “Thank you. I do appreciate the compliment, and you have truly done wonders for my ego this evening. I’m gonna need a bigger bucket this season.”
They both leaned back against the wall, catching their breath.
“God, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard.” Tom turned to look at Liz. Her eyes were still dancing.
“Excellent. Then my embarrassment is well spent.” She giggled again.
“Don’t start!” He gave another half laugh. “Your laughter is clearly contagious. Very dangerous.” His smile was devastating. He looked at her for a moment and then asked, “Where are you parked? I can walk you to your car.”
When they reached her car, Liz looked at him and suggested on impulse, “Would you be interested in taking a quick drive around to look at the memorials? It’s actually quite pretty at night. They’re all lit up.”
Tom readily agreed. He was having a very good time and was surprised to find himself reluctant to end the evening. Liz was great company, and he felt more comfortable with her than he had with a woman in a long time. Even before Paige left him with two nametags, they seemed to be finding an effortless flow of conversation and laughter. It was fun.
They got in Liz’s car, and she drove around to some of the various memorials and important buildings along the National Mall, pointing them out as she drove. The Jefferson Memorial and Lincoln Memorial were both beautiful at night. She pointed out where the Korean and Vietnam War memorials were located, even though they couldn’t be seen from the car, and suggested he visit them during the day.
She continued onto Constitution Avenue and drove back toward 14th Street, past the World War II Memorial, suggesting that one was also worth a visit during the day. They passed the rotunda side of the White House and then turned right onto 14th Street, where she parked the car in front of the Washington Monument.
“You’ve got to get out and enjoy this one for a few minutes,” she said. “I have a blanket in my trunk. If you don’t mind, we can just hop across the street and sit on the mall for a little bit. I hardly ever take the time to do this anymore, but it really is a view worth savoring. That okay with you?”
Tom agreed. When they were out of the car, Liz popped the trunk, bent over, and began to rummage around for the blanket. “Sorry,” she said from inside the trunk, “my trunk is always a complete mess. Don’t judge me.”
“I’m judging your ass right now,” Tom said very quietly under his breath, enjoying the view.
Liz turned around, blanket in hand. “What does it rate?”
“What?”
“My ass. What does it rate?”
Tom put his hand over his eyes and said, “Holy shit, I did not just say that out loud.”
“You did. What’s the rating?” she asked. She was trying to look serious, but there was a twinkle in her eye that made him think she might be enjoying his discomfort.
Tom wasn’t sure how to handle this situation. With a look of embarrassment mixed with confusion, he said, “…Eight?”
“Excellent!” Liz smiled brightly and winked at him. “Although I’m pretty sure you gave me an extra point for sheer embarrassment. I’ll take it, though. Come on, walk across the street with me.”
I have no idea what just happened, he thought, following her across the street. This whole evening had to be the strangest interaction with a woman he had ever had.
Liz walked a little way onto the grass on the other side of the street before spreading the blanket out. They spent a moment looking toward the brightly lit Capitol building, and then she turned around, sat down, and held her hand out for him to join her. Tom took her hand and sat down beside her.
She released his hand, and they sat side by side looking up at the visage of the Washington Monument, on a slight hill, surrounded by American flags, lit from below and all around. Liz lay down on the blanket, crossed her feet at the ankles, and put her hands behind her head. Tom did the same. He somehow expected her to say something about his ass comment, but it never came up again.
“It really is beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked. “It’s easy to forget when you live here. I drive past it every day. People come from all over the world to see something that is so commonplace to me that I practically
look through it.” She was quiet again for a little while. “Thanks for coming here with me. I needed the reminder.
“DC is hot and swampy in the summer, and it doesn’t get enough snow in the winter.” She chuckled. “And when it does snow, people lose their minds because they don’t know how to drive in it. Traffic in general is a nightmare almost all of the time. And the football team has sucked for a quite a while now.” She sighed.
“But…spring and fall are spectacular. I mean, really gorgeous. And even the few square feet of earth we are lying on right now could truly be ground walked on by the feet of George Washington, or John Adams, or Abraham Lincoln.” She turned her head to see him looking at her and finished with, “And the hockey team is awesome. Welcome to Washington, Tom.”
She stood up, offered him her hand, and helped him to his feet. He stood silently while she gathered up the blanket and then followed her back to the car and waited as she put the blanket in the trunk. They both got in her car and rode back toward the restaurant in what felt like comfortable silence.
Tom turned to her and simply said, “Thank you. That was a neat experience. And unexpected.”
Liz pulled up next to his car in the parking lot and turned off the engine. “You’re welcome. Really, thank you for indulging me.” They both got out of the car to say good night.
“So,” she said with a smile and wink, “I really did have a great time tonight, and I want to thank you for wearing two nametags. It was very helpful.”
Tom laughed and said, “You are very welcome. I will gladly wear two nametags any time. I had a lot of fun, Liz.”
They exchanged a warm hug that lingered perhaps just a moment longer than strictly necessary. As they released each other, Tom looked down at her face and on impulse placed a quick kiss on her lips.
At least, he intended it to be a quick kiss. But when he moved his lips away from hers a fraction, he just couldn’t bring himself to move them away further. One kiss turned into two.
