The Final Semester

one.

Y/N POV

The light filters in through the cheap curtain sheers hanging from my door room window. I toss my pillow over my eyes shielding the new day and the pounding headache it brings.

Why did I think partying all night was the best way to start my last semester? I think to myself when suddenly realization hits like a brick.

"Shit!" In an instant I'm out of bed on my feet scrambling for my phone on the bedside table. 8:45am. Fuck me. Class starts in 15 minutes. As I comb my dorm room floor for some clean clothes, a wrestling on the bed catches my attention.

Sighing, I close my eyes as flashes of last night's events dance behind my eyes. Brian, I think his name is, maybe Bradley, lays fast asleep under my twin sized duvet, snoring softly.

I don't have time for this.

Grabbing my shower caddy and what I hope are clean clothes, I head for the shower praying to the heavens that he's gone by the time I get back.

My hair sits in a soggy mess on the top of my head, but its the best I can do with the time I've got. Rushing from the dormitory building, I head for the theater. Black ankle length leggings cling to my legs as I fumble to tie a knot in my oversized 'Van Halen" shirt. As I round the corner of the theater lobby I force an arm in either sleeve of my denim button-down.

The only class I honestly cared about this semester and I'm gunna be fucking late. Brava Y/n.

Students entering their final semester at the Atlantic Acting School are offered a variety of different workshops in the hopes of networking and booking actual jobs. This year proving to be one of the best with a laundry list of reputable actors coming in as guest professors to run each workshop. I made damn sure to sign up for this one the instant registration opened. For the next six weeks I'd have the honor and, if I'm being honest, the pleasure of watching, learning from, and performing with Tom Hiddleston, one of the greatest film, theater, and voice actors on the planet.

As I approach the theater door I try my hardest to slow my breathing making a mental note to work on my cardio (or lack thereof). I fumble in my oversized bag trying to find my glasses as I throw open the conservatory door joining the rest of the class.

"Good morning everyone and welcome to your final semester here at Atlantic!" There's a small buzz and a few claps as one of the assistant directors walks on stage and greets the class. I find a seat toward the back without much commotion as she continues.

"I want to first applaud each and every one of you for your success in this program. Furthermore, I'd like to congratulate you all for your tenacity and determination in choosing this particular workshop. When we first announced our 2021 guest professors we knew it would be the best year yet, but you all," She points around the room gesturing to the roughly 45 people that sit around me, "filled up this particular class in record time! And for good reason! So let's bring him out, the one you're all here for! Golden Globe Winner, BAFTA Rising Star Nominee, Emmy Nominee, and your favorite Marvel villain, please help me welcome, Mr. Tom Hiddleston!"

The room erupts in cheers and applause, some even go as far as to stand up. I roll my eyes at their eagerness clapping lightly along with the crowd when suddenly from Stage Right, a tall, lanky, God-like man walks across the stage.

He's wearing form-fitting grey chinos and a navy cashmere sweater. His hair's grown out some since his latest Loki's press I've seen. He rakes his large hand through his curly locks, waving to the audience. The assistant director ushers him to a chair on stage handing him a microphone.

"Hello there." His deep masculine voice echoes throughout the theater and something flutters in my stomach. A silence falls around the room waiting for Tom to continue.

"Right. Good morning everyone. First off I want to thank ATC for having me and more importantly all of you for coming along on this wild ride with me. I've got a lot of great stuff planned for the next six weeks and I'm excited to get started. Throughout this course we'll work on monologue, stage acting with an emphasis on its intimacy, and I've even asked a few friends of mine to stop in when they can."

A hushed chatter rises among the group at the news of more talent joining Tom's workshop. He stands suddenly, jogging quickly back stage and reappearing with a goldfish bowl in either hand. It's then that I'm amazed at the sheer size of this man. He easily balances two fish bowls and a microphone between his hands. I stare off imagining those hands in more interesting places.

That fluttery feeling in my stomach reappears and I blink rapidly trying to regain focus.

"Now, I'll call each of you up by name, primarily as an introduction, but I'd like each of you to pick a piece of paper from a fish bowl. I have a bowl full of male roles and female roles and for those of you non-binary you may pick from either." He adds with a smirk. "In each bowl are roles and a number. Each number," he runs backstage again grabbing a stack of mailing envelopes, slamming them on the table in front of him for effect before he continues, "corresponds with a scene in these envelopes. A scene that you will go home tonight and rehearse. A scene that you will perform tomorrow, in front of the entire class. With me as your co-star." He smiles wickedly as chatter begins again among the audience.

The flutters quickly turns into what feels like a giant pit and I can feel the color drain from my face. I look around the room reading mostly excitement, some nervousness, and even fewer faces match mine of pure dread. He begins calling names and one by one students introduce themselves to Tom, shaking his hand and choosing their fate.

"Ashton Harleigh?" Tom shakes his hand as he pulls a folded piece of paper from the fish bowl.

"John C. Reilly. Skull Island."

Tom claps Ashton hard on the back with a chuckle before sending him back to his seat.

"That'll be a fun one mate. Ok who's next? Y/n Y/l/n?"

Taking a breath to steady my nerves, I quickly stand wiping my hands along my leggings as I climb the small set of stairsonto the stage.

Extending my hand, I look up meeting Tom's gaze. Our hands touch and the flutter returns. One side of his mouth raises in a devilish grin, "Pleasure to meet you, Y/n." My breath hitches as I pull my hand from his and quickly focus my attention on the fish bowls in front of me. I bite my lip nervously and reach my hand into that bowl retrieving my fate and hand it to Tom.

His eyes meet mine and his expression turns to one of what? Excitement? Anticipation? I can't quite tell. Handing me my envelope he announces over the microphone the role I chose.

"Elizabeth Olsen, I Saw the Light."

Fuck.