Always Been You | Tom Holland

FORTY-ONE

Y/N

"Tom, I cannot let you do this." We've pulled onto the tarmac of an airport I don't recognize. A small private plane is a few feet from us. "This is way too much." Tom just laughs and gets out of the car, walking around to my door and opening it for me. I reluctantly step out with the help of his guiding hand. I'm glad to have it this time. My legs are weak.

"It's your birthday and I want to make it special."

"My birthday is tomorrow." I pout. He shakes his head again.

"Too bad, then. Looks like we'll have to celebrate twice." He closes the door behind me and hands his keys to someone I don't recognize whom he refers to as Dan. "Come on, then."

The plane is incredible. Not that I've been on a private plane before, but as private planes go, this seems really nice. It only seats about 10 people max, but with just the two of us on board, it feels so big. There is champagne sitting by two seats and Tom picks up the glasses and hands me one.

"To another year." The clink of our glasses is loud in the silence of the empty cabin.

"Am I being Punk'd? Are you really taking me to Rome?" Tom helps me slip off my coat as I gaze around the cabin of the plane. I slink down into one of the empty chairs and he joins me after handing our coats off to the flight attendant.

"You're definitely being Punk'd. I'm actually taking you to the North Pole to visit the penguins."

"Penguins don't live at the North Pole," I say flatly as I stare out the window. I look at him, grinning from ear to ear. "What?"

"You're cute." He shrugs. The grin doesn't falter. "And yes, I am taking you to Rome."

It's only a few more minutes before the captain speaks to us and lets us know we're about to take off. We buckle our seatbelts and begin liftoff, which is way smoother than any other plane I've ridden on. Once we're in the air and good to go, we can unbuckle our seatbelts and enjoy the flight to Rome.

"I got you a birthday gift." Tom holds a small bag in his hands. "I couldn't wait until tomorrow to give it to you." He shrugs and hands me the bag.

"You didn't have to get me anything. You're doing too much for me."

"No, I'm not."

"You said you were going to buy me a house."

"And I haven't."

"Yet."

"Yet." He chuckles in agreement. "Open it."

I pull the few pieces of tissue paper out and pull out a small jewelry box. My stomach does a flip. I slowly open the box and I'm met with a small gold necklace with a gold peony situated in the middle of the chain. I run my fingers over it and feel tears prickle at my eyes. It's incredible.

"You like it?" My silence must have made him nervous.

"I love it. Help me put it on." I pull it out of the case and turn around in my seat, lifting my hair up so he can clasp it for me. His fingers are cold when they touch the back of my neck. Once he clasps the necklace on, he rubs the bottom of my neck on each side, just above my shoulders. Images of his hands around my throat flash through my mind and my stomach drops into my ass. He steps back and I turn to him and try to push the thoughts out of my mind. "How's it look?" I pull my phone out to take a peek through my camera.

"Perfect." He whispers.

"Tom, it's beautiful." The flower sits right between my collarbones at the bottom of my throat. "Thank you." I stand up and pull him into me for a hug. I could melt into his body. More images flash through my mind. I wonder how his muscles would feel on my body. Get it together, dude.

"Anything for you." 

The incident from yesterday hangs in the air. Another accidental I love you. Neither of us knows how to bring it up. Something inside of me doesn't want him to. Because once he does, it means I need to confront my feelings. And that is something I'm more than terrified to do. I am sending signals to him to not bring it up tonight. 

"We need to talk about yesterday." He says into my hair. 

Clearly, we need to work on our telepathy skills.

"I know." Neither of us moves.

"I still love you."

"I know," I say. He chuckles, making my head bounce slightly.

"What gave it away? Me accidentally telling you yesterday or me flying you to Rome for dinner?" He kisses my hair.

"You telling me raised a wonderment. The private plane confirmed." I say into his chest. "I'm not–"

"You don't have to say anything." I pull away from our hug enough so I can look at him. I examine his face. Paint Splatter Freckles, perfect teeth, wild curls that are getting far too long for him to tame, chocolate brown eyes that somehow hold so many other colors. "Penny for your thoughts."

"You're beautiful." He laughs again and makes my body shake with his.

"God, I love you." He kisses me softly and my head swarms with thoughts and emotions. I need someone inside my brain to organize my feelings. Like that episode of Spongebob, only I would remember my name. "We are surely going to be the gossip of the week."

"I don't think I care."

"Me either."

His lips are on mine again and I feel the whole world melt away. Something really is different this time around.

-

The wine is better here. I may never leave. This is where I want my secret house to be. Right in the countryside. I'd live out the rest of my days here. I wouldn't mind that at all.

People are staring. Tom somehow got us reservations for the most beautiful restaurant I've ever been to. Because it's so exclusive, it's not really busy, but there are still a lot of people here and a lot of people outside.

When I say people are staring, I don't mean they're staring at Tom. Like, duh, they're staring at him, but they're mostly staring at me. It makes me self-conscious. Are they wondering why he's chosen me? Why I'm on this date and not some supermodel from Milan? I'm wondering the same thing, people. No need to rub it in.

"People keep staring at me," I say as Tom is inspecting the menu. I sip my wine carefully and wish I could down it in one chug.

"I don't blame them." He says, placing the menu down and looking at me. He raises an eyebrow and I feel a blush creep across my cheeks. "You look amazing." I look down at the napkin in my lap and fiddle with the seam on the edge. I run my hands over the cotton of my black dress, the texture of my tights suddenly feeling foreign on my skin.

"Thank you, but I don't think that's why they're staring." He raises his eyebrow as he sips his wine.

"Why do you think they're staring, then?" My eyes fall back to my lap. I can feel his eyes burning a hole into my forehead. The silence drags on for too long.

"Why me?" I look up at him to make sure he heard me. I feel like I whispered it to myself.

"Why you?" He ponders my cryptic question for a moment. He glances around our partially secluded table and lowers his voice only slightly. "You, because you've always been there. You, because you call me on my bullshit. You, because you make me laugh. You, because you make things better. You, because you make me feel like nobody ever has. You... because it's you." He reaches for my hand and holds it in the middle of the table. "You, because I don't want it to be anyone else." He stares at me for a moment.

"I..." I start to say, but I quickly realize I have no response. I wasn't expecting that.

"Y/N," he squeezes my hand. "From the moment I wake up, to the moment I go to bed, I am always thinking of you." I somehow still can't find any words. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yes." Is all I can squeak out. He smiles and looks back at the menu. I take a large gulp of wine.

I don't much care about the people staring anymore. They're not what I'm worried about.

My new worry is that I very well am falling in love with Tom.