I would like to dedicate this chapter to circa1927, mostly because she is one of my favorite authors on Wattpad, and you should definitely check her stories out! Also, I practically spam her story 'Crumbs' with comments, so I suppose she felt obligated to dedicate one of her storied to me xD Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. P.s.. @GabsHiddleston and @TWHiddlesFan, dedications for you two are coming up!:) Thanks for the votes!
After a tiring five hours of driving, we stop at a hotel for the night. Tom was ready to just crash in his room, but I still had some things I wanted to discuss.
"Sleep in, okay?" I say firmly as he's about to go into his room. He stops at his doorway, leaning against the wall lightly as he looks at me.
"I will," he answers with a light smile. I could practically see the tired-ness in his eyes. His expression.
"So... What's our schedule for tomorrow?"
"Mm... Denver Zoo. Then dinner." He yawns lightly, though his hand covers his mouth to conceal most of the yawn.
"Right. Have you heard much about the Denver Zoo?"
Tom sighs lightly. "Cass... I'm actually pretty tired right now." He says it gently, as if he's scared he'll hurt my feelings.
"Right. Sorry... Hey, do you want me to drive every once in a while?"
"It's fine, darling. I've got it."
I frown, trying my best to put on a begging face. Trying to mimic his own begging face. "C'mon, Tom. You're tiring yourself out. I'll drive tomorrow."
"...Okay," he says after a moment. "Only because you asked."
I smile. "Thank you. Goodnight, Tom." I turn away, ready to walk back to my own room, back to my comfortable bed, but I stop myself. I turn back towards him before he even returns the 'goodnight', and kiss his cheek. It's a bit of a hurried kiss since I can only stand on my tiptoes for so long, but the contact of my lips on his soft cheek sent butterflies throughout my body. And I wondered if he felt the same thing.
He smiles. And I've never been good at reading strangers' faces, but I think I've mastered Tom. He's giving me a shy smile now. "Goodnight, Cassidy." He waits until I turn around to shut his door, leaving me grinning like an idiot alone in the hallway. And you can bet your ass I went to bed smiling that night.
~
Tom did sleep in that morning. I mean, according to him he slept in. I wasn't sure how late I expected him to sleep in, maybe until eleven or twelve. But he woke up at nine-thirty (while I was in his room stealing his Othello book. I was certain he wouldn't wake up, but when he did, I guess I thought he'd be angry. Nope. He just smiled at me. He's still a handsome motherfucker even when he just wakes up.) and claimed he was 100% rested.
"Are you ready to get out of here?" Tom asks later, opening my door and popping his head in. And scaring the shit out of me. Sheesh. He's lucky I wasn't changing. He'd get a smack to the cheek.
I set the book down. "We have an hour and a half."
"Yes, but I wasn't to get to Colorado soon. We have a lot of things to do there."
"We have, like, two things."
"We have the Denver Zoo, Ocean Journey, Botanic Gardens, and our dinner."
"Wow, okay, four things. My bad."
Tom senses my sarcastic tone on the first word, and he raises an eyebrow. "Come on. I'll even help you pack."
And, since I don't want to make him upset with my sarcasm, I agree. I set the book aside -which, I'm almost done with, by the way- and start packing up the few things that were out of my bag. This happens far too frequently. Packing, unpacking. Settling into a new hotel and leaving just as you get comfortable. This makes me remember why people thought I wouldn't be able to handle traveling. Perhaps they were right.
Both Tom and I got our clothes washed last night, and we even took a shower (not together, you perverts), so we were all clean from our hike yesterday.
And then we were off, me driving this time, with only a GPS to guide me through these unfamiliar roads. I had to push my seat forward a lot when I first got in the car, mostly because Tom's legs are a mile longer than mine.
Tom, probably bored without anything to do, turns on the A/C, some light tunes from his phone, and asks if I brought any books. So I, in return, say yes, and tell him he can look through my book bag. So he does.
"You must like classics," he remarks, pulling out two classics in a row, grinning lightly.
I just shrug. "I'm trying to broaden my horizons. Or, my library, I guess I should say."
"The Great Gatsby," he says, pulling out another book. "This brings back memories."
"What sort of memories?" I ask.
He's silent for a moment, which makes me wonder if I maybe pushed a wrong button. Went over the line.
"It's a work thing," he finally says, which makes me mentally note to never bring it up again.
"I haven't even read it yet. I'm on page five."
"I might read it myself, if you don't mind."
"If you're going to read it... Can you read it out loud?"
"You want me to?" He asks, sounding a little surprised.
I smile lightly, biting my lower lip. Wondering how I go on about this without seeming creepy. "Yes, please."
"Yeah, sure. But why would you want me to read it if you could just get a free audio book online?" He asks.
Because you're free, British, and I love hearing your voice. "Because it'll just be easier for you to read it out loud. Please, Thomas?"
"Give me a kiss first."
"What?" My cheeks flush suddenly at his words, and my thoughts race through my mind, so many questions at once. Did I hear him right? Is this happening? Is he joking? Am I overreacting? Surely he's joking?
"I'm kidding, love," he then says, grinning and laughing cheerfully at the same time. "Oh, you should have seen your face. Your cheeks, mostly. Oh, there they are again!"
"Shut up," I snap, frowning in embarrassment.
"You know I'm just teasing, Cass." His hand moves to my shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Forgive me?"
"Yeah, okay..."
"Okay." He pulls his hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the back of his fingers, and caresses my cheek with them, as if giving me a kiss on my cheek. Long distance. With his hand. But I'm not complaining.
"Read now," I say gently. "Read with that brilliant voice of yours."
He chuckles. "Oh, yeah, because my voice out loud is so great," he jokes, opening the book up to the first page.
"It is," I say. "You're so modest, Thomas."
He smiles gently, as if it's another subject not to bring up. "Well... It's better than being vain."
But before I can argue, he begins to read.
"Chapter one. 'In my younger and more vulnerable years, my...'"
~
Denver Zoo was huge. And crowded. Tom and I were signed up for a group tour guide, mostly because getting lost was the last thing we wanted to do. His hand firmly gripped mine, his sunglasses over his blue eyes. I often found my eyes wandering up to him, and he would always tease me by remembering he wasn't one of the exhibits. I knew he meant well whenever he teased.
He reminded me of a kid at the zoo. A large kid who was older than me. He'd grin at the different animals, point to them while grinning at me, as if I didn't already notice them. Then he's take out his phone and snap a few pictures before talking. He talked a lot. He's a chatterbox, this one. But, like I've said before, him talking -and me just nodding- is nice.
I haven't been to many zoos in my life, so this zoo was certainly exciting and new. I had one zoo back in my hometown, and it was decent. To be honest, I think it was almost better for the animals. Being a zoo near the country, the animals had bigger cages, more room to roam, and less noisy people around them. I miss that zoo. I think Tom would like it.
"What're you thinking about?" Tom asks softly. I'm surprised he managed to tear his attention away from the elephants.
"Home." I smile softly as I look up at him. It was meant to be a reassuring smile, but I don't know if it appeared that way.
"Are you growing homesick?"
"A little. I'm just not used to all of this, I guess. This traveling. Do you know what I mean?" I ask.
"I do, believe me," he says. His eyebrows raise in a sympathetic way, creating small lines on his forehead. "I travel a lot, but that wasn't always the case. I would have to call my mum every night just to hear her voice."
"What about your dad?" The minute I ask, I knew I probably shouldn't have. Tom would have said 'mum and dad' if his dad was there, right? Or, if I'm lucky, his family was wonderful and charming and together and perfect. With a mom and a dad. "Don't answer that," I say, cringing lightly. "It's personal."
Tom takes a deep, silent breath. "Divorce." He only says one simple word, yet it tells so much.
I purse my lips lightly. I'm terrible at comforting people. Saying nice things. I mean, the last things he wants to hear are: 'Hey, it's okay', or 'I'm sure it happened for a reason'. 'things turned out okay'. 'He was a jerk, don't let it get to you'. Because it's not okay. It's a tragedy. It sucks. You don't want people's comfort and/or sympathy. You just want to be alone. And I would know.
"You should try calling your mum. Or whoever."
"I could call either of them. But my mom is my best bet."
"Daddy issues?" He asks, his hand squeezing mine. I notice the tour guide and the others in our group are moving along, so we keep up with them.
If most people would have said 'daddy issues?' to me, I would have thought they were making fun of me. But Tom said it in a sincere way.
"Yes. Divorce."
"Oh. I apologize. I guess I know I can turn to you to talk about it, then."
"Yes," I reply, a small smile on my face. "You can. I don't let it bother me very much. I don't know my father well. He left the minute he found out it was a girl."
I don't know why I'm telling Tom this. Of all people in the world, I've told five people, including Alice and Mary. And this one PenPal I had when I was eight. But I didn't know better then.
"Oh, Cass, I'm terribly sorry."
"I got over it," I answer, shrugging. Shrugging like it doesn't bother me. Like I'm not affected by the memory. Like I don't stop and think about how I grew up without a dad. I mean, not to make this into a sob story or anything, but it sucks to go through highschool without any knowledge or skills with sports. Without knowing what guys are even like.
We remain quiet for a bit, and that really does help our moods. Before we know it, any sadness that was in us is now gone, and we are having simple fun with our tour group. We stayed at the zoo until about four p.m., when we decided it'd be nice to go get a hotel and take a nap to rest our aching feet.
But before Tom allowed me to nap, he had one more thing on our agenda.
Shopping.
After I learned that we'd be going to an expensive restaurant, and he learned that I had no formal clothing, he smiles and offered to buy me a dress. And I said no. But he said I had no choice.
"I hate you," I mutter as I step out of the dressing room for the third time. All I wanted to do was go sleep somewhere. Even the floor looked like a throne at this point.
"That one is nice..." he says, resting his hand on his chin thoughtfully.
"Fuck you."
He grins. "Okay, so I'm terrible at choosing dresses. Why don't you tell me what kind of dress you want? I'll go look."
"Something simple, perhaps? Where I won't stand out. Try a little black dress."
"LBD, got it." And then he's off.
I sigh and look into the mirror. I like dresses. I like the way they feel. I like that they are flow-y and pretty and nice. But I don't like the way they look on me. I don't like it when I draw attention to myself. And dresses seem to do that.
"Something like this?" Tom asks as he returns, holding up exactly what I wanted. Simple. Black. Short. But not too short.
"That's perfect," I say, wanting to show Tom some kindness ever since we first stepped into the store. He grins at the compliment, like a puppy being praised.
And so I go back into the dressing room and change into the dress. And it feels... right.
Tom doesn't say anything when I first come out. He just stares at me, that cheeky, crooked grin on his face. "That's the one. You're getting it."
I smile back, and I throw my arms around his neck for a light hug.
Laughing, he hugs me back tightly, lifting me off of the ground for a bit, which causes me to grin.
"Thank you..."
"It's no problem, Cass. I'm happy to do it. Now, let's get back to the hotel so we can nap before dinner, yes?"
"Yes, please."
He laughs again.
~
I nap in my hotel room for about an hour before I wake up. And even then, I just lie down and think. But do I even have to mention who I'm thinking of? It's quite obvious.
Dinner. A fancy place. A new dress. It sounds like a date. But who knows? For Tom, it's probably just a friendly dinner, seeing as though I'm just a friend. Without thinking about it much, I pick up my phone and send him a quick text, even though he's just a room away from me.
Is this a date? -Cass
I figured it'd be a while until he texted back, but his reply came just seconds later.
Yes. xT