Always Been You | Tom Holland

TWENTY-EIGHT

Y/N

The dress looks even better when I have my hair and makeup professionally done. Rachel has left my hair down with curls cascading down my back – of course, it's mostly hair extensions, but I'm going to pretend that this is my natural hair length. It's so glamorous. I feel so important wearing this gown and these heels that are both way more expensive than I'd like to think about. 

I do a little twirl in the mirror and I feel like a little girl trying on dresses with my mom again. My dresses always had to pass The Twirl Test. No Twirl Factor, it goes back on the rack. I've mostly outgrown that now as an adult – though I do still love a dress with Twirl Factor.

"Gorgeous!" Law claps his hands together. "I think you're going to outshine Tom for sure." He smiles. "And I don't think he cares."

I'm not sure what to expect of Red Carpet Tom. I've experienced Party Tom and Date Tom, but this is a whole new territory. I want to assume he will be like a more elevated version of Date Tom – gotta be extra chivalrous while being scrutinized by the public.

"Law, you need to put me in bowties more often. These are so much easier than ties –" Tom stops mid-sentence and looks at me in the mirror. "Holy shit."

"What?" I look around to see if something is wrong.

"You." He whispers. I feel my face flush. Thankfully, I've got enough blush on that it won't look much different. Law excuses himself and leaves us in the room alone, the tension growing thicker by the second. "Wow, Y/N... You look... wow."

"Just the reaction I was looking for." I turn and smile at him. He looks incredible. Law has him in a burnt orange velvet suit with a bow tie and, of course, faux glasses with an orange tint. "You look amazing. You look great in this color." I rub the arm of his suit. "I'm gonna be feeling this texture all night."

"You can feel whatever you'd like." He's whispering and looking at my dress. "I don't want to sound like a knob, but you look hot." He locks eyes with me and the energy in the room shifts.

"So do you."

We're silent.

"I wonder–"

"Your car is here, Tom," Christine yells from the other room. 

He wonders what?

"Thanks. We're coming." He steps closer to me. "I can't wait to show you off." He presses his lips on mine and hums softly. Suddenly I don't care if we're late for this event. Suddenly I'm thinking of breaking my own rules. "Let's go, my love."

I'm getting far too used to hearing him say that.

Tom

I've prepped Y/N as much as I can. Some parts of this night she will just have to see and learn for herself. I already know I'm barely talking to any interviewers. The last thing I want is for someone to ask something about Y/N that makes this awkward or, even worse, makes me angry. The worst part about being a woman in this industry, so Zendaya tells me, is how differently they're treated compared to the men. And I've seen it happen before. I'm used to calling people on their shit, but if someone treats Y/N poorly tonight, we may have a problem.

"Alright, we're pulling up." Our driver calls from the front seat.

"You'll guide me the whole time, right?" Y/N is jittery with nerves.

"Yes, darling, my hand will never leave your body." She smiles and nods. We pull up to the carpet and I hear her take a deep breath. "Ready?"

"Yes."