Lucky Number

1

A/N: The reader's thoughts/texts are in italics, Tom's are bolded

Your phone vibrated on the table in front of you, but you resisted the urge to check the notification. It was one of your pet peeves when people used their phone during meals, so as much as you wanted to—and GOD did you want to—the phone remained facedown. Normally, you were fine ignoring your phone when out with friends or family, but tonight was a challenge because your date was so fucking boring and kept going on and on about himself.

He was prattling on about some protein shake that was going to give him a six pack... Blah, blah, blah. He'd only asked you maybe three(?) questions throughout the entire dinner (and of course, he had insisted on inserting his own opinions). Basically, you were almost at the point of just bailing—there was no way you'd ever go out with him again, but you also hated ditching half-way through and being rude. Even when the rudeness was totally justifiable...hence why you left the phone facedown.

I swear, if he tries to mansplain one more time, that's it. I don't care about manners. I'm getting the fuck out of here. Your thoughts turned to how much better your night would have been if you'd just stayed home...mug of tea, pajamas, cozy blankets...ahhhh.

Your phone vibrated again, jolting you back to reality. After a second's hesitation, you picked the phone up, rudeness be damned. Before you had even entered your passcode, your date's nasally voice mentioned one of your favorite movies, catching your attention for the first time that night.

"You probably haven't seen Deadpool though. Girls aren't usually into those kinds of movies, I guess. Too gory or something."

Your tone was curt as you responded. "Uh, yeah, I did actually. I'm a big Marvel fan." You could already tell where this was headed.

"Huh, bet you only went for Ryan Reynolds cause he's hot."

You rolled your eyes harshly and took the napkin from your lap and tossed it onto the plate in front of you. Enough of this bullshit. "Ok, bud. As much as I'd love to hear more about your undoubtedly extensive knowledge of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I'm going home before I do something I'll regret in the morning."

He held his hand up motioning for you to wait. "Hey, hey, hey. We don't have to sleep together tonight—I'm willing to wait until the second date if that's better for you."

Never underestimate the stupidity of idiots. You slowed your words down to a patronizing tempo. "Since you clearly lack the ability to identify subtle cues like tone of voice, I'm going to make it easy for you by quoting my good friend Deadpool: 'some of the best love stories start with a murder, and that's exactly what this is, a love story.' But hate to break it to ya bud: you'd be the murder victim in this story, not the one who gets laid."

His eyebrows knit together, a scowl contorting his face. "What'd you just say to me?"

Great, now he cares about what I have to say.

"I did you a favor by asking you out. Not every guy would be into you, but I don't mind big girls. And you've got the nerve to treat me like—"

Grabbing your purse and phone from the table, you got up, spun on your heels, and ran for the goddamn hills, not caring to stay for the rest of his petty, hurt white boy rant. I can't believe I wasted a perfectly good outfit on this date. Fuck him.

Outside, you hastily ordered a Lyft home, then checked the texts you'd received a few minutes ago during dinner. You swiped open the messages app and noticed it wasn't from a saved contact. Probably just a wrong number.

- hey matt its tom could you grab me a package of bandages on the way back with dinner? Thanks

- sorry but its kind of urgent can you get back asap??