If I thought having people turn their heads after me on the streets of New York was exhilarating, then that's a whisper compared to being touched by Tom. Maybe I shouldn't be too specific about the details, but that feeling is like nothing I've ever experienced. We were caught in a rain and ran back to his place, he told me to take off my wet clothes and gave me one of his shirts. We sat on a sofa waiting for the dark, listening to traffic rushing through water on the avenue outside. Silence between two people can be awkward or magnetic, this one could be the subject of a thousand novels.
I came back late or maybe early, Avy was already asleep, her breaths sounded like music. Yesterday she took these pictures of me wearing Tom's shirt, he said I could keep it until the next time we meet. It smells like him.