You maneuver yourself into the closest empty seat on the tube, breathing a sigh of relief. The lecture you'd just come from ran long, and you weren't sure that you would make it to the station in time; missing the tube would surely sour your already questionable mood.
You lean your head back and shut your eyes, tuning in to the usual noise of mass transit. There were people chattering, children screaming despite the insistent shushing of their parents, assorted electronic devices bleeping and ringing intermittently....
...including your own. Opening your eyes and rummaging in your bag, you manage to pull out your mobile in time.
"Hullo?"
"Hello, there, love."
His voice elicits an automatic grin. "Oh, hi Tom. Sorry about the racket, I'm on the tube; had a lecture this morning."
"It's all right, I can hear you just fine. How was it?" he asks.
"The lecture? Dull. Two hours of listening to an elderly man ramble on about something that I'll most likely never need to know outside his course. Spent most of it fighting sleep and scribbling story ideas I'll probably never get to," you explain with a melodramatic sigh.
"Sounds like Uni hasn't changed much." He laughs.
"Not one bit."
"So, do you have anything else planned for today?" Tom asks.
"I was going to pop home, change, then maybe just wander around; maybe stop and visit Mum and Dad for a bit," you tell him. "Why d'you ask?"
"Well, I could use some assistance with something - have you heard of the Ice Bucket Challenge?"
Of course, you've heard of the Ice Bucket Challege. At this point you're sure that everyone with any type of social media has heard of it. In it, people are dared to either douse themselves with a bucket full of ice water, or forfiet and donate a sum to the MND Association. Apparently, Nathan Fillion had nominated Tom to do it next - this was news to you, as you hadn't watched his yet - and he needed some extra hands.
"Do I get to throw the water on you?" you ask after he explains.
"I have a feeling you'd have far too much fun with that," Tom responds. "I planned on having you film it for me. Would that be all right, love?"
"Quite all right," you confirm. "And where is this happening?"
"At my place. Here, I'll give you the address..."
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After you get off the phone, you ride the tube to your usual stop to go home and walk back to your flat. If you're going to see Tom, you tell yourself, you definitely need to change out of the sweatpants and ratty old t-shirt you threw on because you decided if you were going to sit through a two hour lecture, you may as well be comfortable. You throw on a pair of jeans, one of your better shirts, and grab your jacket before heading back out; only to remember halfway downstairs that you still need to feed Rory. Cursing, you run back up, give the cat some food, and then leave again. You hop in a cab, reciting the address Tom gave you to the driver.
When you arrive, you force down the fit bubbling inside caused by the realization that you are currently standing on the doorstep of a relatively famous individual - somebody that people write novel-length fanfictions about and would give just about anything to even catch a glimpse of in person that, by some miracle, you happen to be romantically involved with. Your mind tries to comprehend this as you walk to the door. His door! Which leads into his home!
YOU ARE READING
Got Your Heart
FanfictionThe continuing story of a London fangirl who, almost entirely through her mobile phone, finds herself in a relationship with the very man she obsessed over; Tom Hiddleston.