For the Love (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 22

  A/N: Oops, guys...don't hate me.     

      “Someone saw us at the airport and now we’re all over the internet.” Emie took a step away from Tom, watching his face.  He frowned.  “There’s photos and a video.  It’s on all those terrible gossip websites.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, suddenly remembering that she was only wearing her robe, her hair still wet and uncombed.
       “Oh, Em.” Tom’s face fell.  “I’m so sorry.” He held out his hand, but Emie brushed by him, pacing the room.
       “I just…Lucia deals with this all the time.  They’ve taken pictures of me before, but never in this context.  I hate it.  It’s why I write under a pseudonym.  I don’t want the attention.  I just want a normal life.  They were writing all these terrible things about me and you and…” She stopped in front of Tom, searching his face.  She fought the urge to hug him, to just fall into his arms and let him talk away all her worries.  But that wouldn’t stop those hurtful words.  It wouldn’t stop her worry about the future.  It wouldn’t change the fact that Tom was a famous actor and she was just a confused, worried, stressed out girl.
       “You know you shouldn’t read that rubbish.” He softly, his eyes looked worried, hurt. 
       “Have you talked to your publicist?” She asked.
       “Yes, I talked to Luke early this morning.” Tom said this carefully.  She frowned.
       “You knew this morning?” She asked, biting back a bit of anger.  He nodded slowly, and took a step toward her.  Emie took a step back.
       “Yes, Em.  But I knew we couldn’t do anything about it while on a boat in the middle of nowhere.  You were having a good time.  You were relaxed.  I didn’t want to ruin it for you.” He said this with a sternness in his voice, as if ready to defend himself if need be.  Emie deflated, knowing that he was right. 
        “I hate the fact that they know who I am.  I hate that they’re all making these assumptions about us.” She groaned.
       “You’ve can’t let it get to you.  I’m sorry, Em.  I should have been more careful with you.  I’m sort of used to it.  I tune it out.  But you…” He trailed off.
       “Are you getting a lot of email?”
       “A lot of people tweeting at me, but it’s alright.” He shrugged.   She sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing her hair behind her ears.  Tom sat down next to her, turning slightly.  The weight of him sitting near her made her slide slightly toward him.
       “It’s not alright.” She sighed. 
       “Sometimes it’s just best to let it go.  To ignore it.  Something new will happen next week, and they’ll forget all about us.” Tom reached forward, putting his hand on hers.  Emie looked up at him.
       “I think I’m going to call my manager, Scotty, and tell her to release a statement saying we are just friends.” She said.  She saw something flash in his eyes, but it was only there a second, so she wasn’t quite sure what it was.  He swallowed and was quiet for a moment.  He pressed his lips together and didn’t move.
       “If that’s what you want to do.”
       “I just think…it would be good to be honest.” She said softly, looking away.  Tom was quiet again, which was unusual. He wasn’t often quiet.  Emie swallowed and finally looked at him, trying to read his expression.  He was just looking at her, studying her as if he were trying to get a read on her. 
       “If you think that’s what the truth is, then okay.”  He said, his voice somewhat flat.  He crossed his arms across his chest, and leaned back a bit. 
       “Well…we’ve said we were just friends from the start, right?” She asked, looking at him.  He pushed a hand through his hair, and shrugged.  He leaned back, shrugging his shoulders in an exaggerated way and sighing loudly.
       “It is what we said, Emie.” His voice was a lot louder than normal.  “But last time I checked, I’ve made you orgasm say, three times in the last,” He looked at his watch, “In the last 20 hours, and I don’t remember ever doing that with my other friends.” He said this defiantly, his voice going down to barely a whisper.  Emie froze, her mouth falling open slightly.  She blinked, a bit shocked.  Tom leaned forward, his arms still crossed over his chest.  The line of his mouth was hard and somewhat angry, but his eyes were just reading hurt. 
       “Tom…”
       “I apologize for being so blunt, but I cannot, under good conscious, continue saying to you that I only want to be your friend.  I do, want to be your friend, but I also want to be much, much more than that.  And I don’t see the point in so boldly lying to the entire world, when it is very plain to see that when I look at you, there is an extraordinary amount of things going through my head and ‘friends’ is not really the right word to describe it.” He laid this out, quickly and succinctly. 
       “Please, Tom.” She bit her lip, feeling the familiar rise of panic start rushing from her stomach to her chest.  This was not going as she had planned.  She wasn’t sure what she had planned.   He shook his head.
       “You can say ‘Please, Tom’ to me all you want.  In fact, I quite enjoyed it the other night.” He raised an eyebrow at her and kept talking.  “But you’ve got to decide, Em.  Are we just friends? Really? Because I remember you asking me not to see anyone else.  And again, that’s not usually something that friends say to one another.” He stood up, and Emie nearly fell back on the bed.  Tom was normally rather genial and unassuming.  But it was obvious that when he had something he needed to say, he wasn’t shy about saying it.  And Emie realized he was also angry.  Perhaps with her.  Most likely with her.
       “I…” She couldn’t quite find the words to form coherent sentences.
       “Don’t think about the other shit, Emeline.  Just think about the last few weeks.  I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.  What have you thought about?” He took a step away from the bed, holding his hands out toward her, almost pleading with her.
       “I’ve…” She blinked.
       “You are the most bottled up person I have ever met.” He said simply, his words clipped.
       “Tom, I just…I thought we were on the same page.  That we would take this slow and not label it—“
       “Emie, I’m not saying we need to buy each other promise rings.” He bit off his words, and it made her catch her breath. “I’m just saying that you and this—“ He waved his hands between them, “is more important to me than just writing it off as a fling. A one time thing. But you’re not giving me much to go on.” He stood back, watching her.
       “I don’t know what to say.” She stood up too, pulling the loose edges of her robe tight around her.  “I really enjoy your company.  I really…” She stumbled over her words. He’d caught her off guard. 
       “You enjoy my company.” He said flatly.  His face was emotionless. 
       “I need some time.” Emie felt her voice falter, and then crack.  Tom crossed his arms over his chest, turning away from her for a minute and walking toward the other side of the room.  He made it to the French doors, before he stopped.  Emie watched him.  She didn’t know what to say. 
       “I’ll talk to you later, Em.  Take all the time you want.  I’m at your mercy.” He said softly, looking back at her.  He turned then, and left the suite.