HufflepuffHolland's Writing Collection

Something More (Part 7, 8, & 9) // Tom Holland

Word count: 4490

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"How long are you going to stay mad at me this time? Come on, babe. You know I didn't mean it. I was mad. I just – I'd rather talk about this in person. Please, just... call me back. Or, come over. You can always come over."

You rolled your eyes. This was the seventh message Tom had left you in the span of six days. Granted, you were a little happier that in this one, his words weren't slurred, so he hadn't been drinking. And the absence of loud, horrible club music wasn't heard, so he was safe at home – this time.

"When are you going to answer the poor guy?"

"When he gets his head out of his ass. Why do I have to go to him?" You pouted. You weren't the one who had a whole fucking cow over the idea of wanting to move along.

"You probably broke his heart."

You rolled your eyes. "One, you're supposed to be on my side." You gave your roommate a pointed look, causing her to shrug at you. "Second, he's an asshole. I don't care what he says, he was out of line."

"Okay, fine. Then, are you taking Brian on for that date offer?"

"God, no. I just said that to piss Tom off more than he pissed me off." You shrugged, thinking back to the look on his face when you told him that. "I don't think it pissed him off though," you frowned, "I think it hurt his feelings."

"Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner."

You groaned, throwing your head back against the cushion. "I still don't think this is my fault." You complained, glancing at your phone when it vibrated. A text message, that was new. You saw the name; Brian.

"Is that Tom?"

"No, it's Brian. I'm not going to answer."

"Well, what does it say?"

You sighed, picking up the phone and unlocking it, reading the message out loud. "Hey," you began, "you could feel the tension in the building. Just checking in to see if you were okay." You rolled your eyes – how conveniently nice of him.

"That's sweet."

"He told me Tom wasn't 'relationship' type."

"Wait, what? When?"

You began typing out a message. "Fine. Thanks" you typed back, despite saying you wouldn't reply, locking your phone and placing it under your thigh again. "When we went to that "company dinner" that Tom's dad set us up on. He told me that I was wasting my time, basically."

She shrugged. "Maybe he's right."

"I know he's right. That's not the point. The point is–"

"It's your time to waste."

"Yes, exactly."

"And... you don't want to waste your time anymore, is the problem."

You frowned even deeper, sinking further into the couch. "Exactly. But... I can't just – I can't let go of Tom. In that way. I want Tom to want more – more with me."

"So, you do want more with him? You do want him to marry you." She gave you kissy faces, showing you her ring finger on her left hand.

"You're just as annoying as Tom is. I don't want marriage, yet. But, it'd be a nice upgrade to come to his place as myself instead of in a stupid, almost embarrassing, disguise." You sighed, feeling your phone vibrate again. "I should get ready for work. I've used all my sick days." You reluctantly got off the couch, picking up your coffee mug and heading toward the kitchen.