For the Love (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you so much for the comments and votes. It means a lot to me! Please feel free to leave any comments or constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it. Thank you!!!!       

Tom turned to Emie, looking down at her.
       “Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked seriously, a hand coming up to her arm.  Emie smiled and nodded.  She took a step back, away from him.  It was always a bit stressful when people started crowding around you, and then angrily yelling, but she knew it was mostly harmless.  It just wasn’t exactly how she thought she’d spend her morning. 
       “I’m fine, thank you.  Really.” She said with a quick smile. Tom looked relieved and then looked around the small hallway.
       “Do you have somewhere to be? Have you been to Nan’s?” He asked, motioning to the staircase that led up to a door with a “Nan’s Books” sign on it.  Emie paused then, wondering what he was asking exactly. 
       “No…I haven’t.” She said hesitantly.
       “You’ve got to see it. The whole top floor is this big maze of old books.” Tom took a half step toward the stairs.  Emie didn’t move.
       “I look a mess.” Emie said with a soft laugh, holding her hands out.  Tom tilted his head to the side, his brows coming together slightly.
       “I think you look divine.  Don’t worry about it.” Tom said, holding out his hand then. 
       “Tom…” She said, her voice a warning.  He frowned.  “You know they took pictures of us together.  They’re going to be all over the place.” Emie crossed her arms under her breasts, watching him. He nodded, his eyes looking serious and hesitant.  She noticed the beautiful gray bluish green they were in this light.
       “I’m sorry, Em.  I really am.  You’re right.  There will probably be a bunch of rumors about it for awhile, but then it will go away.  It always does.” Tom sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. 
       “I hate paparazzi.” Emie groaned.
       “I can’t say I’m a big fan either. “ Tom said softly.  He started typing things quickly onto his phone.  “My publicist and manager, Luke, will look into things for us, okay? Please, don’t let this ruin your day.” He said gently.  Emie nodded.  
       “Don’t worry.  I think falling on my face was kind of the low point to this day. Unless someone got pictures of that.” She sighed and rolled her eyes.  Tom couldn’t help but laugh. 
       “Well, I managed to snap a few.” He said, then laughed jokingly. He put his phone away, and held out his hand to her. 
       “Come with me to Nan’s.” He said simply.  She paused, looking at his outstretched hand.  Tom laughed, taking a half step toward her.  “Emie.” He said simply.  Just the way he said her name, it made her stomach squeeze a bit tight. 
       “Alright, for a bit.” She said softly, placing her hand in his.  Tom’s bigger hand closed around hers and squeezed.  He pulled her gently toward the stairs.
       “Emie, you totally ruined my morning.  I didn’t get to do my normal run.  The least you could do is join me in the bookstore.” He said, taking the stairs two at a time before slowing down when Emie started laughing and pulling back on his hand.  He turned around, stopping for a moment.
       “You poor man, having to help the klutziest damsel in distress.” She sighed.  “I don’t have long legs like you.” She laughed, letting go of his hand.
       “No, you don’t, do you?” He said with a sparkle in his eye.  Emie made eye contact for a moment, but then looked away. Tom was interesting.  She couldn’t quite explain it, but she wasn’t always totally sure what he motives were.  He was very polite and charming, but when she was near him…she felt this inexplicable pull to him.  It was something about the way he looked at her, and spoke to her.  But then it was also something entirely physical.  The way he moved, the way he touched her.  The way she felt when he was near her.  It scared Emie a bit, but mostly it confused her. A lot.
      
      
       Tom had been right.  The top floor of Nan’s was a bit magical.  There were rows, after rows, after rows of books.  Some were on shelves, some were stacked directly on the floor.  There were haphazards signs hanging around, letting you know the general topic of the books beneath it.  One room led to other rooms, and it was a bit like being in a fantasy world made of books.  Emie breathed deep, relishing the old book smell.  The lighting was perfect.  Lamps sat in every corner, dimly lit.  Soft, plush chairs were hidden away in corners.  Emie couldn’t help but smile. 
       Tom walked slowly through the maze, running his long fingers over the spines of the old books.
       “Tom, this is…amazing.” Emie breathed.  He turned and smiled, his grin wide.
       “I’m glad you like it.” He swallowed, pausing.  “Lucia told me you’re a writer.” He said.  Emie stopped then too, next to him in the narrow pathway.  She looked up at his light eyes.
       “Yes, I am.” She said softly.  He had been asking about her.
       “I thought you’d enjoy this.” He turned then, and slowly made his way down the aisle.  Emie paused, but then followed after him. 
       They made their way quietly through the aisles, pausing every few minutes to look at a particular book.  Emie stopped to gaze lovingly at an old, illustrated copy of Jane Eyre.  One of her favorites.  She showed it to Tom, who poured over the woodcut print illustrations with her.  He leaned over the book, looking at it intently.  Standing only a few inches from her, his arm brushed against her.  Emie felt a bit like she was having an out of body experience. 
       It was supposed to be just a normal morning for her.  But here she was, standing in what was probably the most magical bookstore she’d ever been in next to a man who was…a bit magical himself.  Tom was not what she had been expecting.  He was charming and sweet. He was goddamn sexy.  She felt the need to get far, far away from him. 
       “This is wonderful.” Tom said softly, gently closing the cover of the book.  “You need this.” He said with certainty.  Emie smiled. 
       “It is pretty special.” She nodded.  Tom grinned and then kept walking.
       “What do you like to write about? Orphaned girls who grow up to be strong women who are haunted by ghosts?” Tom said absently, looking through a pile of yellowed books.  Emie stopped then, swallowing hard.  He had no idea what he’d just said to her and how true it rang to her real life.  She cleared her throat.
       “I…” She hugged Jane Eyre to her chest.  She knew he’d just been describing the book, but it had thrown her off.  Tom looked up from where he was hunched down.  He had pulled out a book.  “I write a column for Los Angeles Now.” She said, thinking of the weekly paper she wrote for.  “It’s about local art and culture, mostly.  It pays the bills. Most of the time.” She smiled.  Tom stood up.  He was so tall, he towered over her.  She took a step back, bumping into a book case behind her.
       “That’s great.  I need to check it out.” Tom said.
       “No, you really don’t.” She laughed, shaking her head.
       “Why?”
       “It’s just…it’s not what I really want to be writing, most of the time.  I also have a few novels published.  They’ve done pretty well.  That’s what my passion is.  They’re mostly gothic, sort of romantic fiction.  A bit of mystery and ghost stories thrown in for good measure.” She nodded.
       “Ah, so you are influenced by Miss Eyre.” Tom tapped the book she was holding.  She grinned.
       “Maybe.”
       “I will have to read some of your novels then.”
       “Good luck.”
       “What do you mean?”
       “You’ll have to find them first. I write under a pseudonym.” She laughed.  Tom’s eyes widened.
       “Really? Why?”
       “So people don’t know who I am.” She shrugged, walking back toward a darkened, narrow aisle.  Tom followed.
       “Intriguing.”
       “No, just practical.  I like my privacy.” She said softly.
       “How successful have your novels been, Em?” Tom asked.
       “They’ve done well.  They’ve been on the New York Times list.” She said with a quick, mysterious smile.  Tom trailed after her.
       “How long? Days? Weeks?” He asked.  She laughed softly, knowing he was vying for any tidbit of information.
       “Months. Two of them were there for months.  One was there for over a year.” She said, then turned around quickly.  He had caught up to her, and she nearly bumped into his broad chest.  Tom steadied her.
       “So you don’t care that no one knows it’s you writing these amazing books?” He asked, both his hands on her elbows.  She fought the urge to take the half step forward and bury her face in his neck.  She wondered what he smelled like.  Emie took a step away instead, brushing the thoughts quickly from her head.  What was she thinking?
       “No, I like it better this way.” She said quickly.
       “I’m surprised you are a writer.” Tom said then, dropping his arms to his side, looking at her with a bit of challenge.  She tilted her head.
       “Why? Because I often have trouble forming a cohesive sentence?” She asked, smiling.  Tom laughed, loudly.  They both thought back to the previous night where she had stumbled over everything she said.
       “It’s just surprising, that’s all.” He nodded.
       “What is your next project? I saw your interview.” She asked, changing the subject.  Enough about her.  Tom walked forward, stopping at a shelf of hardcover books.
       “You were watching me on the telly?” He asked, not looking at her.  Emie felt her lips lift in a smile and she rolled her eyes. 
       “It was just on in the background.” She shrugged.
       “I’m doing a theater production of Coriolanus.”
       “Shakespeare?” She said, a bit surprised.  He was in some of the biggest action movies in recent history.  Shakespeare as his next choice surprised her.  Tom looked up, pleased that she knew what he was talking about.
       “I’m a bit of a geek about Shakespeare. I’m classically trained, actually.  I started in the theater.” He said ‘classically trained’ with even more emphasis on his accent.  She smiled.
       “I didn’t know that. Do you have a favorite passage?” She asked.  His eyes got big.
       “What would you like, darling? Drama? Romance?” He grinned. There he went with the ‘darling’ again.  “Perhaps romance is more appropriate.  A sonnet.” He said seriously, raising an eyebrow.  Emie smiled, shaking her head.  He took a step back, thinking for a moment.
       “Maybe I should sit for this.” Emie said with a laugh, and then sat down on a large, comfy looking armchair in the back corner.  Tom laughed.
       “No pressure or anything.” He grinned.
       “No pressure.” She said softly.
       “Ok. Here goes. Sonnet 116 .” Tom said softly.  He stood in front of her, in his running pants and hoodie.  His hair perfectly messy.  Tall, and graceful but masculine.  He took a deep breath, and so did Emie.  She held it.  Watching him, wondering if she could memorize this moment. 
       “Let me not to the marriage of true minds/Admit impediments. Love is not love/Which alters when it alteration finds/ Or bends with the remover to remove/ O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark/ That looks on tempests and is never shaken/It is the star to every wandering bark/Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken./Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks/Within his bending sickle's compass come.”
       Emie watched Tom speak. Maybe it was his accent.  That amazing, sexy British accent.  Or the gently roughness of his deep voice.  She could hardly breathe.   He kept going and she wished he’d never stop. 
       “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,/But bears it out even to the edge of doom./ If this be error and upon me proved/I never writ, nor no man ever loved.” Tom spoke confidently.  He delivered the sonnet carefully, standing in front of Emie as if she were a packed house on a Saturday night.  And yet, it felt as if it were just them in that entire room, entire store, entire state, entire world.  Emie watched him the whole time, not daring to break eye contact.  He ended kneeling down in front of her, his chest touching the front of her knees.  He had one arm on either side of the arm chair.   She shifted slightly, realizing quite quickly how tightly she was holding her whole body.
       “That was beautiful.” She said finally, swallowing.  Tom smiled, though only slightly.
       “Thanks to Mr. Shakespeare.” He said quietly.
       “How often does that get you laid?” Emie asked then, breaking into a smirk.  Tom broke into a laugh, coughing slightly, a bit shocked at her bluntness.
       “Not nearly enough, believe me.” He stood up then, still chuckling.  Emie sat forward in the chair, reaching forward and grabbing Tom’s hand before she could think about it too hard.
       “I’m sorry, I totally ruined that.” She said softly.  “That really was nice.  Thank you for reciting it.”She said.  Tom leaned down, pressing a kiss to her hand.  Emie couldn’t help but feel herself blush.
       “It’s my pleasure.” He said softly.  Emie stood up then, quickly.
       “Tom…” she turned and bumped into him again.  He was always standing so close by.  “Sorry.” She put her hands against his chest.  She couldn’t help herself.  A part of her was just begging to touch him.  Somehow.  Anyway.
       He was warm and solid.  She could feel the heat of him through his lightweight zip up.  Tom didn’t move.  He stood there, head bent down, looking at her.
       “I feel like we’ve known each other for much longer than we really have, is that strange?” His said quietly, his voice rough.  Tom reached up, wrapping his hands over hers.  His hands were warm, strong and a bit rough.  She could not quite believe what was happening. 
       “It is strange.” Em managed.  She looked up at him.  He was so handsome.  His strong jaw, his high cheekbones, those amazing eyes.
       “Can I take you out sometime?” He asked then, his voice so quiet. “On a proper date?” He looked away then, as if he were nervous of her response.  Emie wondered how a man like Tom could ever be nervous.  He could easily have any woman he desired.  Even so, she felt a nagging in her stomach. 
       “Tom, I think…”She began.  Tom looked back at her, waiting.  “I think we should just be friends.” She said, feeling a mixture of regret and doubt form in her stomach.  Tom licked his lips, and Emie fought hard not to lean forward and press herself to him. 
       “Why?” He asked simply. He was the kind of man to ask questions.  Not to accept things as they were.  Emie looked away, pulling her hands gently from his grasp.
       “I don’t date actors.” She said, sitting down on the edge of the arm of the chair.  Tom crossed his arms over his chest, and then sat on the other side of the chair.  He was quiet for a moment, and then he stood back up.
       “I’m not just an actor, you know.  I can juggle. I can sing terribly.  I can dance quite well, or at least, a lot. I’m not bad at making coffee.” He said this seriously, as if applying for a job.  “I can be whatever you want.” He added, gently.  Emie looked at him then.  She was often caught off guard by his eyes.  They were so honest and vulnerable.  He showed all his emotions through them, it seemed.
       “That’s the thing though.  I want you to be you.  And you are an actor, at your core.  And I just, can’t get involved with an actor.” Emie stood up, and started slowly backing away from him.  Tom watched her.  Emie felt the need to run.  Despite her aching side, and her bloody knees.  She felt the need to run far, far away.
       “Alright, we can be friends.” Tom said then, as if reading her eyes. As if seeing her flight or fight kick in.  “I’d be honored to be called one of your friends, Emie.” He said.  She could tell he meant it.  He was just so damn honest.  He seemed to only say things he meant.
       “Ok. I should go.” She said quickly.  She felt terrible, and she wasn’t totally sure why.  “Thank you for a nice…afternoon.” Emie felt her heart start pounding.  She turned around then and starting making her way quickly down the aisle.
       “Don’t you want Jane Eyre?” He called after her.
       “No, no, maybe another time.” She said over her shoulder, rushing down the narrow aisle.  She heard Tom following after her.
       “Emie.” He said, raising his voice only slightly.  She wasn’t sure who Tom was.  She’d just met him.  The first night she’d met him she’d made a fool of herself.  And now she felt like she wasn’t sure what was going on.  He confused her.  She’d sworn off actors a long, long time ago.  She couldn’t deal with that lifestyle.  She’d just gotten a taste of it in the coffee house.  But why did she feel so terrible walking away from Tom? She hardly knew him.
       Emie raced out the side entrance of Nan’s and down the steps where they had come in.  Tom was close on her heels.  She pulled open the door to the back loading dock, bright sunlight shining through into the somewhat dark hallway.  She was about to go out into the day when Tom grabbed her hand. She spun around, the door shutting behind her.  The hallway fell dark again.
       “I’m sorry if I said something to upset you.” Tom offered.  “I’ve been told I can be a bit too…much at times.  A bit overwhelming.” He said with a small smile.  Emie paused, biting her lip. 
       “No, Tom, you’re not overwhelming.  You’re actually very charming. And sweet. And English. And I just…” She licked her lips, looking away.  Tom just stared at her, a bit shocked.  “I’ll see you later, yes?” Emie said then quickly, turning to leave. 
       Tom grabbed her this time, taking her by the arms and turning her around.  The next thing she knew, he was there, close, so close. He looked down at her, his lips parted.  It was all she could see.  Those perfect lips.  He moved as if to say something, but then he leaned down and his mouth was pressed against hers, firm, warm and confident.  She felt him breathe her in.
       Emie hardly had time to react.  She froze for a split second, before her brain seemed to shut off.  She reached up, moving to the tips of her toes.  Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in.  It was quite a reach, but she pulled him down toward her.  She felt the urge to pull him in as close as possible.  He seemed to sense this and she felt him bend down toward her.  He bent at the knees, wrapped one arm around her waist and one down by her butt and Emie felt him lift her, bringing her more to his level.  He groaned as their bodies pressed closer.  The crook of her leg bent, and he brought it up to his hip, pulling her into him.
       The feel of his hands against her bare legs was almost too much.  She felt her whole body react. Emie pressed against him.  He tasted amazing, like chocolate and coffee.  He smelled even better, if that was possible.  His lips were soft, gentle but there was an urgency to his kiss.  It was as if he wanted to devour her.  She wouldn’t have minded.
       Emie parted her lips slightly, and felt the press of his tongue against hers.  She held either side of his face in her hands, felt the softness of his hair and the slight rasp of his stubble.  Oh god, the man could kiss. He could kiss like he could deliver a Shakespearean sonnet.  Perfectly.  She felt parts of her come alive that she hadn’t even known existed.  Emie braced herself against his broad shoulders, and felt him slowly set her back down on the ground.  Her legs felt a bit weak. Tom broke the kiss, gently.  He leaned his forehead against hers, and she could feel the heavy quiet way he was breathing.  Standing so close to him, her head only came to mid chest level.  She leaned up, kissing the soft pulse point right below his ear. She lingered there, feeling the soft, strong form of his neck.  Tom was still, hardly breathing now.
       “I haven’t been kissed like that in a very, very long time.” She whispered into his neck.  She couldn’t see him smile, but she felt it.
       “How? Sloppily and by an Englishman?” He asked.  She grinned.
       “In that case, maybe never.”  She laughed.  She didn’t want to move away from him.  What had just happened?
       “We could be good friends, Emie.  Really good friends.” Tom said softly.  Emie looked up at him, wondering if he was joking.  He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were. 
       “Oh?” She asked.
       “Best friends, even.” He said, now smiling.  She laughed, looking away.
       “I need to go now.  Really.” She said, taking a step away.  Tom just watched her, his eyes different now. 
       “Emie.” He said simply.  She paused, her hand on the door.
       “Tom.” She replied.
       “Let me take you out, Emie.” He said, holding out a hand haphazardly.  Emie pursed her lips.
       “I don’t date actors.” She said again.  Tom looked away, smiling.
       “I’m asking you as Tom.  Not as an actor.  This is all real, believe me.” He looked back at her.  His eyes were serious.  He wasn’t smiling.  Emie paused, biting her lip.  She could still feel his lips on hers.  She could still feel the way he picked her up with hardly an effort.  She could still feel the way he smiled against her lips.
       “You have my number, Tom.” She said after a beat.  Tom broke into a big grin.  Emie couldn’t help but smile as well.
       “Thank you, Em.” He said this so simply, so genuinely. She couldn’t help but blush.  Perhaps she should be thanking him. She wasn’t sure. He was completely unlike anyone she’d ever met.  Maybe she should take a chance.
      
      
       After Tom didn’t call the next day, Emie was only slightly confused.  Maybe a bit concerned.  But then, he didn’t call the day after that or the day after that.  No text, no phone call, no anything.  And things had certainly been interesting for her.  The pictures from the coffee shop had been blasted all over the internet in a very short amount of time.  The most popular picture seemed to be the one where Tom had his arm around Emie’s waist, and she had her face pressed practically into his armpit. She didn’t really remember doing that, but at the time she had been so desperate to get away from the cameras, she had been using him a bit like a shield. 
       The headlines ranged from “Tom Hiddleston’s Newest Fling” to “Forbidden Coffee Rendez Vous!”.  She couldn’t stand it.  She was usually identified as an “unidentified blond”.  Thankfully, no one had been able to identify her…yet.  And to add insult to injury, after that mind melting kiss he’d laid on her, she hadn’t even heard from him.  He’d practically begged her to go out on a date with him, and now here it was, nearly a week later and nothing. Not a word.  It proved her right.  Never date actors.  They lived in their own little strange, convoluted worlds.  Everything was a performance to them.  And Tom was no different. 
       What had she been thinking, anyway? No matter what, a relationship between them would never work.  He’d be traveling a lot. She’d be in LA.  They’d never see each other.  It was exactly what she always knew it would be.  For instance, her sister and Chris hadn’t seen each other since the dinner the week before.  And they wouldn’t see each other for another week, until they all made it to Bora Bora for the wedding.  Lucia was in New York for work.  Chris was in New Zealand with his family.  Then he was flying to Sydney for work.  Emie saw nothing appealing about having a relationship based on plane schedules and layovers.
       Plus.  Tom hadn’t called her.  There was no relationship.  Just a kiss.  A really excellent kiss.