For Good (a Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction)

Chapter 4: Ain't It Fun?

"Oh God..." I choke out and feel my ears and cheeks beginning to burn.

"Am I... interrupting something?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"How... how long have you been standing there?" I ask hurriedly, practically running over to my laptop to turn off the music.

"Since the air guitar," he smiles and hands me one of the coffee cups. "Coffee? They accidentally poured it when I asked for tea, so they just let me take it."

I mumble a 'thanks' as I take the cup from him, averting my gaze from him out of sheer embarrassment.

"Peyton, don't be embarrassed. That was... absolutely fantastic," he leans down to look at me. "Seriously, you should sing more with the band."

I give him a half-smile as I finally allow myself to look at him. "Thanks... That's kinda what that was. We're working on some new covers and the guys want me to sing lead on some stuff. It's... a little out of my comfort zone," I chuckle nervously, running a hand through my hair.

"Well, I think you have absolutely nothing to worry about. You're a natural," he smiles, taking a sip of his tea.

"Thank you. Listen, Tom... I owe you an apology," I look down, nervously fiddling with the cardboard sleeve on the coffee cup.

"Whatever for?" he asks, giving me a confused look.

"I've been kind of cold towards you this past week, and that's not okay. I'm sorry," I sigh.

He flashes me that perfect smile. "Peyton, you don't have to apologize to me for anything. I just figured you were focused on your job, and I respect that immensely. But if it makes you feel any better, I accept your apology."

"It does make me feel better, thank you," I smile at him and take a sip of my coffee.

"I have to ask though," he starts, setting down his tea and picking up two five-pound weights to start his first exercise. "Why didn't you want me to know when your band is playing next? I really would love to come see you play again."

Because you're my patient, and you're incredibly attractive and nothing can happen between us.

I shrug. "I don't know..." I mumble, looking back down at my laptop screen.

Tom chuckles and starts doing his reverse flies with the weights. "Well, I guess that's good. Because I know that you're playing again Saturday night and I plan on being there."

My head snaps back up and my eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. "How did you...?"

"Peyton, you do know that that bar has a website, right?" he grins.

Damn Internet. I forgot that the bar advertises our shows.

"Ah. Right," I nod, turning my attention back to my laptop. "So how does the shoulder feel today?"

"Good," Tom replies. "A bit sore after last week, but much better than it did when I first injured it. The stretches you gave me have helped enormously."

"Wow, it's almost like I know what I'm talking about," I chuckle to myself as he flashes me another grin and shakes his head.

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"Okay, Doc Martens or Converse?" I ask as I turn out of my closet and into my bedroom where Chandler is lounging on my bed.

"Don't you have something with a heel? You always wear those," he groans without looking up at me.