“I just freaked out. I’m really glad you’re having fun.” Helen slid into the booth, the faux leather cool against her skin as she settled into a more relaxed posture. She patted the seat next to her, inviting Tommy to join her. Helen looked up at him, her eyes urged gently, wanting to create a more comfortable space for the conversation ahead.
She couldn’t help the way her eyes scanned him, continued to memorize his features. His build. Trying to read him. He was lost—lost in thought, in another time, in his mind. She gave him time, until a waiter near the bar dropped a glass shattering his thoughts. Forcing her to look away from her loving like gaze. She felt the booth shift as he slid next to her. Tommy seemed to hesitate for a moment, his shoulders tense, before he slid in beside her, their thighs brushing slightly. The closeness sent a thrill through her, but she forced herself to focus. “You really caught me off guard back there,” she said, the whirlwind of emotions stirred by his unexpected entrance. As his hand slid into hers, she gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Helen… I have to admit something to you. Part of the reason I came here tonight… Well, Part of me just wants to take you home with me. So, I can hold you and cuddle with you.”
Helen felt the warmth spread through her, mixing with the alcohol in her system to create a haze of emotion that she hadn’t anticipated. Tommy’s words landed softly but powerfully, igniting a tumult of feelings that she fought to keep at bay. “Tommy…” she began, her voice trembling slightly. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, both from the liquor and the sudden vulnerability that hung in the atmosphere. But her throat felt like it was closing up, like the words were being trapped inside her. He was searching her eyes, looking for any hint of rejection or acceptance.
“… All I have thought about since Brazil is kissing you again and holding you in my arms.” Helen’s heart raced, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest as Tommy’s words washed over her. The vulnerability in his voice tugged at her heartstrings, but it also sent a flutter of panic through her. She took a deep breath to steady herself, mentally grappling with the intensity of what he had just confessed.
“Tommy…” she began, her voice trembling slightly as she fought against the tears threatening to spill. This wasn’t like her at all, she wasn’t the type to get emotional in public, let alone in a bar after a few drinks. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt the heat rush to her cheeks, and the sight of his earnest expression made it difficult to keep her composure. She quickly blinked to fight off the moisture gathering in her eyes, afraid that she might completely break down right in front of him.
“I thought I was the only one,” she admitted, trying to bottle up the swell of feelings. “After Brazil, everything just felt… different. Confusing.” She glanced away for a heartbeat, focusing on the rest of the bar, the laughter, the voices, anything but the raw honesty unfolding between them. “And… I’m sorry.” With pink cheeks she glanced at him. “I… I was the one avoiding this once we got back.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “But—I had this long, dumb speech in my head about how we should take our time, but then you just show up and throw everything I’ve been trying to keep together into—whatever that was.” She opened her eyes and looked at him, trying to form a good humored smile. It was small, and testing, and warm.
Helen squeezed his hand tightly, a new type of fear creeping into her mind. She struggled to breathe, the gravity of his admission pushing against the walls she’d built around herself. “But what if… what if I’m just tipsy and feeling sentimental?” she whispered, realizing there probably had been a reason she had originally avoided it, though it felt way too fragile for the weight of their conversation.
Helen could feel a lump forming in her throat, emotion bubbling just beneath the surface. “I just don’t want to mess this up,” she confessed, looking down at their hands. She realized she was still squeezing his and loosened her grip. “You mean so much to me, and I’m terrified of ruining what we have.”
“If you don’t mind that is.” Helen felt a flutter of uncertainty at his words, the weight of his request hanging in the air between them. She sensed the gravity behind his tone, and she knew he was serious about wanting to have a deeper conversation. The alcohol coursing through her made everything feel more intense, though she was acutely aware that her judgment might be slightly clouded.
“Of course, Tommy,” she replied, her voice warm yet cautious. “I don’t mind at all. I think it’s important to have that talk.” She paused, curiously watching him. She couldn’t help the itch in her fingers, and her other hand came to tip Tommy’s chin up until they were looking at each other again.
Helen swallowed, “I appreciate you wanting to wait until tomorrow. Whatever it’s about. It means a lot that you’re careful about this.” It also gave her a chance to process everything that had been said, to mull over her own feelings without the haze of alcohol.
With a small smile, she felt a sudden rush of affection for him. “But, if you don’t mind,” she continued, her voice playful yet sincere, “can we still make tonight memorable? Can you take me home with you? Just to be close, even if we’re not rushing into anything?” She asked, nervously biting her bottom lip.
