Chapter 16
“Did you just— hear all of that?” you questioned, standing frozen in place. The instinct to duck out of the camera range was ever so prevalent, as Tom beamed on your phone screen.
His trademark, breathy laugh filled your apartment and the startling realization hit you that this was all very real. This wasn’t someone controlling his Instagram as you had assumed during your initial conversations. This wasn’t someone skilled in the art of impersonations which had been your next assumption. For the past four months, you had been sharing pieces of yourself with the man before you. He had always been Tom . Even watching his interviews earlier in the day, you were able to convince yourself that the man you had been developing feelings for was someone else entirely from the movie star.
Tom, on the other hand, displayed no traces of angst. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful creature to ever exist, confirming his assumptions all along. If you dared to ever bring up Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 130” again, he would fight tooth and nail to convince you of your status as a goddess in his eyes. The bun on the top of your head bouncing with each erratic hand gesture, even a full strand having been neglected at the nape of your neck…. The way one earring had already been discarded, likely forgetting that you still had one in your ears… Your hands as they moved from side to side as you spoke, the way he had always envisioned when you became truly heated about a subject…
Not only those reasons, but the simple fact that he was the topic of your turbulent gestures. It wasn’t lost on him that you were in conflict with yourself. You admitted to jealousy. You admitted to attraction. You admitted to feelings . Towards him. Months of casual flirtation, deflection… Months of learning and understanding one another… It wasn’t in his head.
Adjusting his glasses (because he refused to have anything impact his ability to see you at this moment), he provided a sympathetic gaze. “I’m afraid it was a bit more than just heard it all.” The pure excitement couldn’t be quelled for long as another laugh echoed through the phone.
A comical gulp was your response, still frozen in place. Maybe if you stayed still, he wouldn’t be able to see you? Maybe he would assume the camera was frozen and hang up? This did nothing but cause Tom to laugh louder, lifting his hands to motion towards you.
“I should be outraged that you’ve kept me from seeing you for this long! Look at you!” he called out, being a tad dramatic in hopes that if this was entirely too overwhelming for you, you’d at least be able to laugh at him.
His claim thawed up, rushing forward to sit down at the table to get a better look at him through the small screen. “Look at me? Look at you! Fuck ,” you groaned, resting your hand on your temple. This was all too much. “How do you look that good in the middle of the night?!” It was a genuine question, however your dramatics could challenge those of Tom.
Your reaction did bring him down a notch or two, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. The next motion was an unexpected treat. He dragged a hand down his stubble… back and forth . And had this been an interview you were watching, the audible moan you let out wouldn’t be nearly as humiliating as it was currently.
“Stop doing that!” you outright yelled at him, pointing to the camera.
Tom matched your movement, pointing right back. “You stop doing that!”
“I’m not doing anything! You’re over there touching your beard! Now, I want to do that to you!”
“You’re not innocent in this! You’re softly moaning! I want to make you do that!”
“ Ah !” you pointed.
“Ah!” he pointed back.
And there you both sat, panting, agitated, pointing to your phone screens…Silence washed over the two of you, signaling a simultaneous laughing spree. You had never used the term ‘giddy’ to refer to yourself in your whole life. Yet, this was the only moment that it seemed outright appropriate. When the laughter subsided, an easy rest settled between you both, him with his goofy grin, and you with your hand in your palm, an equally goofy grin donning your face.
“Look at you,” Tom repeated, although this time it was full of a gentle amazement. “You’re beautiful.”
You wanted to cry by how truly genuine he sounded in his delivery. You wanted desperately to believe everything that came out of that mouth of his. “What about you?” breathless, willing yourself not to get teary eyed by the overwhelming emotions. “You’re….I….You’re so warm.”
“I beg your pardon?” giving a little lean in, for fear he misunderstood you.
“Not physically warm,” you laughed, eyes venturing around the room as if you could look for the right words within your home. “Your laughter…your eyes…your smile… You have this way of…Damn. I can’t pull a Shakespeare quote out of thin air like you probably could right now.”
“I steal the words of other men,” he waved off, urging you to keep going.
That was enough encouragement—in fact, it was all you needed at this moment. “Suddenly, I can't remember what I was ever afraid of,” the soft admittance, barely above a whisper.
“It’s extraordinary isn’t it? Once it was confirmed that the woman I care for very deeply feels the same towards me..,” a pause to highlight his obvious meaning, his smile never fading. “I can’t find it within me to worry.”
And you wanted to hold onto his words, locking them away tightly as a memory you hoped to never lose. He felt the same towards you. He cared. Neither of you could dare use the term that lingered on the very tip of your tongues. To admit to such an intensity with only ever sharing this one conversation together, for only knowing each other for four short months—it was a step that you both denied your hearts.
Your next question was playing with fire. There were always self sabotaging tendencies around every corner. Push him away now and you wouldn’t have to worry about him leaving. You could have basked in the moment. Instead, you found yourself asking a question that you knew would spark discussion.“Even though none of this is real?”
Brows knit together tightly as Tom searched for understanding. You offered him elaboration. “Earlier today, when I looked up interviews of you…I watched others, not just from today.” That was something you said you’d never do. But how could you not give into temptation when you had made this promise within days of first speaking to him? Things were different now.
Defeat washed over his features, knowing this would always be a conversation waiting to be had. He didn’t fault you for watching the interviews. Had you recorded interviews, Tom knew himself well enough to know his willpower would be nonexistent.
“Social media isn’t real. You’d rather put your time and energy into your real life,” hesitancy danced around the phrases. Although you no longer feared him seeing you, there were still talking points that revealed themselves today that needed to be addressed.
“Do you remember what year those interviews took place?” He asked a question he already knew the answer to. His life was a continuous timeline of major life events and experiences. Would you ever fathom the impact you had on his life?
You had so many different ways to respond. Flippant. Defensive. Meekly. But all you were left with was the truth…a small shake of the head, not knowing exactly when each took place. “There were a few where you mentioned it.”
“You’re exactly right,” he offered, your stomach immediately dropping at the response. “I did say those things. Several times, in fact. There are a great many advantages to my profession. I am granted the privilege of living out my passion. The price I pay for that is to be held to the opinions I voiced years ago.”
You gave a short nod, trying to keep your emotions in check. The highs and the lows of the conversation were far more intense than any roller coaster you had encountered. Still, you waited for the other shoe to drop. He admitted to his feelings and yet, you were prepared for him to give a reason why this wasn’t genuine.
“Y/N…,” leaning towards the phone to get a better look at you. It was the first time he had said your name during the video. Sure, you had heard it countless times in your phone calls, but to see your name fall from his lips? Your breath hitched. “Tell me this doesn’t feel real to you.”
It was his turn to be anxious, curious as to where your answer could take the conversation. Was he too much? Had your rounds of interview watching been enough to scare you away? Thankful that he could hide his hands beneath his desk, they twisted and squeezed away at one another. Every piece of training he had received in school gave him counter actions to seem more confident. There was no use putting on a front where you were concerned.
After what felt like a lifetime, you responded to his prompt. I can’t lie to you,” fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. Was it the magnitude of what you were saying that had your emotions high? That question was answered with your next words. “Tom—tonight with David–”
“Darling—,” he interrupted, closing his eyes in thought. “Are we something you wish to pursue?” He was perfectly prepared for ample deflection.
“More than you’ll ever understand,” your voice breaking mid-sentence.
As painful as he knew it would be, Tom forced himself to open his eyes. He was met with something more heart wrenching than even he was prepared for— The fear…the worry…What did he need to do to take it all away from you? Had you lived each day since first speaking with this fear buried within you? “Can we agree–,” and this time, it was his voice’s turn to break. A momentary rest to gather himself before continuing… “Can we agree that we shall not hold our pasts against one another? We are different people at this moment than we were years ago or even hours ago…”
It was a romantic notion to think that the past could be forgotten. Perhaps it was selfish of Tom to not allow the truth to come out. Selfish in that he did not wish for this moment to be tainted by the likes of your ex. You both knew that you’d be agreeing to the impossible. The past would find a way to rear its ugly head, yet neither of you could bring yourselves to accept that fate now.
You pondered over his offer, finally opening your mouth to give him an answer that could change the course of your future. “I don’t think I can do that.” There was a calm undertone that presented itself, the tears drying up quite quickly.
“Oh.”
“I read an interview of yours today. You were asked your favorite Shakespearean play,” bringing your arms up to cross over one another in an obvious act of scrutiny. He knew exactly where this was going.
“Is that so?”
“Wouldn’t you guess my surprise when I heard what your answer was… Because, I seem to remember one of our first conversations, you claimed that Hamlet or even Othello were your favorites…,” you lead him on.
“Perhaps I did…,” the guilt already taking form in his words.
“Oh, you did. I remember vividly, because when I said my favorite was Much Ado About Nothing, which is also your favorite according to that interview, you stated that you didn’t enjoy it. You can imagine my shock,” raising a slender brow as a challenge, the humor now apparent.
“Let me explain,” Tom lifted his hands in mock defense.
“You said in the interview—and I quote, ‘it is pure gold’. Yeah, come on Hiddleston. Explain,” your triumphant smirk knocking out any sort of emotional undertone that had previously been present.
“I needed to see if you were choosing Much Ado because you knew it was my favorite.”
“Oh, so we started this relationship off on a bed of lies?”
It was Tom’s turn to grin, picking up on your choice of words. “Relationship? Is that your way of agreeing that this is something more, perhaps?”
“I don’t know, Tom ! How can I have a relationship with someone who never told me they loved the Last of the Mohicans film score?!” you shot back, trying your hardest to pretend to be mad.
“Now hold on just a minute!” wagging his finger in your direction. “I know I told you about my love for that film!”
“No. No you didn’t!” arguing right back, as the conversation turned into bickering like an old married couple.
“What about your secrets? When were you going to tell me that you enjoy one of my favorites, Dirty Dancing?” pointing just over your shoulder. On the wall behind you, perfectly positioned on a corner piece bookshelf, read a sign stating “Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner.”
“Is this what we have to look forward to together?” you asked, giving a slight huff in frustration. Luckily, Tom’s smile was indicative of how you were truly feeling.
“I do hope so, darling .”