Page 73 of If Ever

"It is now. I took over the lease about a year ago."

"Where's the original renter?"

"Out on tour."

"Is it weird living in someone else's apartment?"

"Nah, in the theatre world, people are always bouncing from one flat to another due to sudden casting, out of town tryouts, or tours. The bathroom is right here, and this is my room." He frowns and rushes to tidy up. "Sorry. I wasn't planning on company." He sweeps the scattered contents on the dresser into the top drawer, scoops up clothes from the floor and tosses them into a chair, then straightens the covers on the bed.

"I'm sorry to barge in."

"Seriously, it's no problem." He frowns at a stray sock on the floor and kicks it under the bed.

"Don't worry. I'm so tired, I'll be asleep in two minutes." But I love seeing his place. It's like a peek behind the curtains into who Tom really is.

He glances at a clock on the nightstand. "Shoot, I hate to ditch you, but I've really got to run."

"Not a problem."

"If you're sure." He scans the room as if looking for anything embarrassing or out of place.

I touch his arm. "Of course. Please go."

His eyes settle on me. "All right, but call or text if you need anything. I'm on stage during most of the show, but I'll check for messages during intermission."

"Thank you."

He runs a hand through his hair. "Geez, this morning went so fast. I'm sorry."

"Would you stop apologizing? Go to work." Which sounds so funny to tell someone performing in a musical to go to work.

"I'll be back between shows and then we'll go out for a late dinner after tonight's performance, so rest up."

"I think you're the one who's going to need the rest."

He grins. "True that." He kisses me on the lips slow and soft, leaving the promise of more. "Sweet dreams," he says. A few seconds later the apartment door closes and locks.

I take off my coat and glance around the living room getting a feel for his space. There's a dead fern collecting dust in the corner as well as giant plant that stretches up to the ceiling where hooks hold up the twining vines. Exhaustion is settling in, so back in his room I sit on the side of the bed. The bedding is dark and masculine. There are wood blinds on the windows. A desk is piled with papers, sheet music, and scripts. There's a stack of papers with his eight by ten head shot. I flip it over and see more pics of him and his bio, height and weight. He must use these when he auditions for a new show.

Tired, I grab his pillow and inhale. I can't help but grin. It smells just like him.

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