Chapter Three: The Intruder
Tommy POV:
"I had a really nice time." she smiled at me sweetly.
I returned a rare grin. "Same." I'm a man of few words… and it doesn't help that I'm in the game. The dating game. Do you know how hard it is to find someone who will put up with your quiet personality? Very. Been at this for six months, and I still didn't know what to do if I don't like the person… and tonight, I didn't like the person.
She stood at the door of her apartment, brown hair still perfect as well as makeup, staring at me, green eyes expectant; waiting. What? Do you want me to kiss you? Why can't you start the kiss? The last one did! Well, that's why I didn't like him… too pushy and impatient.
Ugh, why can't I find the perfect person? I find good people, people who I would willingly fall into bed with, people who look great with great personalities… but one flaw. If I fond just one flaw, it ruins the whole thing and I kind of build a wall. This girl is amazing; she's talented, funny, sweet, charming, lives a few floors above me, she's awesome… but she's too perfect. I refuse to believe that there's nothing wrong with her. Maybe she smokes… yeah, she's probably addicted. I leaned in and kissed her, sweetly. There were no traces of smoke—in taste or smell—not that I would mind; I have an occasional pack once in a while.
I guess I don't see a flaw yet and we'll just leave it at that. With perfect people like her, I usually find a flaw on the second or third date, then I'm in kinda deep and I don't wanna be the kind of guy who says 'hey, I'll call you next week' and never do. So I always just tell them the truth… which almost always ends with a slap in the face or a drink thrown in my face; sometimes both.
So there is usually not a second date.
I had a lover… but that was a long time ago. Damn, he was perfect; not a single flaw in the four years we were together. I wish daily that I could see him again… has he changed at all? Did he color his hair a foreign color, one that I would not recognize? How many times have I passed him on the crowded New Orleans streets and not known it? What if he—? No, no, Tommy, don't get yourself all worked up over it. I'm sure you would recognize him if you saw him and even if you did, he would have seen you… but if he did, would he make an effort to talk to me? Would he call out my name and weave through the crowds until he reached me? Would he pull me into his arms and tell me how much he misses me? Or would he ignore me? Does he despise me for leaving? Does he ever want to see me again? What if he did see me, recognize me—I haven't changed much—but doesn't stop? What if—?
"Want to come inside?" she whispered seductively in my ear. I grinned. As appealing as that sounds, I decided against it. Last time I had sex was about a week ago, with this guy. He was awesome… except… his moans annoyed me and ruined the rest of the intercourse. No, I'm not gay, bi, or strait, I'm just looking for the one; the one could be a guy or girl, mind you, I'm just exploring my options.
Sounds stupid, I know… but in the end, if I find that person—my other half, the one—then my life will have meaning. Kinda strange coming from a pessimist, but whatever. My thoughts were swarmed as I left the elevator and walked down the familiar hall to the wooden door with the number 13 on it. 13... A very unlucky number… not my favorite. I requested to move, but all the other rooms are full… how unlucky is that?
My senses became alert as soon as I reached the door… and realized it was slightly ajar.