All Roses Must Wilt (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 14- Wandering Puppy Dog

My boss was a little surprised to see me back at work so early, but when I told her about my last minute trip to New York (while avoiding saying who I was going with), she agreed, saying it was a good idea to work today and tomorrow to make up the week away. Then on Friday, I leave.

I must have been typing for almost half of a work day when my computer notifies me that I have received an e-mail. I open an extra tab to check it. It's from Tom. Not surprising, really, he did say he would e-mail me a list of things to bring.

The e-mail reads: Dear, Rose,

I'm truly sorry if my words this morning made you feel uncomfortable or frightened, even. I won't lie to you, saying I won't treat you especially well, because I will. I meant what I said. You will truly enjoy the next four months; I can guarantee it. So I couldn't help but notice we'll be in New York on both the 8th and the 9th... meaning both of our birthdays. I do hope this is alright with you. If not, I truly understand if you want to stay behind in London now. But if you do still wish to come, here is a list of some items I would suggest bringing:

-Warm clothes. (It will be just as chilly in New York as it is here, and we can't risk either of us catching a cold!)

-A bit of money. (I'll try to pay for everything I can, but you may want to bring some just in case.)

-Umbrella (One that actually works, perhaps?)

-Laptop. (So you can do your work.)

-Then there's the obvious items you would bring on any trip. Shampoo, hairbrush, toothpaste.. you get the idea.

-Something pretty? For me? (I never did get to see you all dressed up!)

You don't exactly have to bring everything on this list, it is merely some suggestions. Please let me know very soon if you still want to come along with me. Love, Tom.

Hm. Love, Tom? I shrug it off, deciding to reply to his e-mail right now.

Tom,

Yes, I remember glancing at the calender yesterday and seeing that we would be gone on those days. It is perfectly fine with me. I'll still go. And I might bring something pretty. Might. Haven't decided yet. Anyways, I'll see you on Friday. What time will you be picking me up? Do you have an estimate? Go ahead and take your time replying, I know how busy you can be.

Love, Rose.

I purse my lips lightly. Sounds decent enough. If he can end his letter with Love, Tom, I can end mine with Love, Rose, right? I click send and get back to my article. Ugh. I don't know what it is about writing, but even the most boring article on earth can calm me down majorly. And it makes time fly.

Before I know it, my work shift is over, and it's pretty dark outside. But before I have the chance to log off my computer, I get another e-mail. What lovely timing Tom has.

Dear Rose,

I can guarantee you that I will be at your flat no later than one o'clock p.m. The plane itself leaves at about two. We will be sitting in business class, so not as many people will be there, and it will not be as crowded. See you then, darling.

Love, Tom.

I sigh lightly, finally shutting off the computer. I've never flown in business class before. But there's a first for everything, right? I pack up all my stuff and leave my small little office, preparing to go home. I actually can't wait until Friday. There'll be some excitement in my life.

~~~

It's Friday. And I'm actually sort of nervous. I had packed mostly everything I needed last night. And, I'm ashamed to say, I even packed a few skirts and my ankle boots. And I only brought one T-shirt. The rest of the shirts I brought are nice, pretty blouses. What on earth is happening to me? I'm turning girly.

I brush through my wet hair, drying it after I had taken my shower. I soon just decide to braid it in a side braid, not wanting to deal with it at the moment.

"Rose, someone's here for you!" I hear Mrs. C yell.

I grab my bag, slip on my shoes, and exit my flat. I think I have everything. No, I'm certain I have everything. I turn off the lights, lock the door, and head downstairs. But it's not Tom at the door. At the door is a neat looking woman with a white button-up blouse, a straight black skirt, and a matching black blazer.

"H-Hi, Jackie," I say, catching myself stutter.

"Hello, we're late," she says, glancing at my appearance.

I look at my watch. "It's only 12:45. And where's Tom?"

"Ah, I'm here, darling. Don't worry," a voice says. I look over and see Tom hurridly getting out of the car, buttoning up the last few buttons on his shirt, but leaving the top few un-done. "I got back from my jog sort of late, sorry for not getting here sooner."

"It's fine," I say. Jackie returns to the car, getting in on the passengers side.

Tom takes my bag for me. "You can get in the car if you'd like."

I shake my head lightly. "I think I'll wait for you..."

He gives me a bit of a sympathetic look before putting my bag in the identical black car behind the one Jackie got into, which is filled with luggage. I wait until he gets into the car Jackie is in before I get in. I really don't want to be alone with her...

The second I shut my door, the driver speeds off. I stare out the window for most of the car ride, not listening to what Jackie and Tom were discussing. Business matters, probably.

"Rose?"

I snap my head towards Tom. "Hm?"

He laughs lightly. "Finally you hear me."

I blush lightly. "What? Were you talking to me earlier?" I ask.

"Yes. I said your name a few times."

"Oh... what is it?"

I feel his hand slip in mine. "Are you feeling alright? You're awfully quiet."

I smile nervously. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... New York. It's kind of big."

"It'll be fine. You'll be with me the whole time."

Jackie clears her throat. "I wouldn't say that, Tom. You'll be awfully busy during the day with interviews, meetings, a few photo shoots... I'm not entirely sure how helpful a wandering puppy would be."

I frown lightly, looking down at our entwined hands. I get what she's saying. I am like a lost puppy to Tom, always following him and not wanting to be left alone.

"But-" Tom starts to speak up.

"I actually think it'd be nice to stay in my hotel room. That way I can try to get some things done," I say. My phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket, and I pull my hand out of Tom's grasp so I can grab it and reply to the message. I keep on pushing Tom away without even realizing it. But is that a good thing? Is it good to push away the man who offered to take me to New York for free? But I don't really see that I have much of a choice.