Super short chapter, I know. Also, the thirtieth chapter may get a little sexual, in case any of you are not comfortable with that. I do plan to keep this story pg-13, though, so it won't be too graphic. I hope you all enjoy! :)
It's weird when you just take the time to think about your life and how much it has changed. When I was much younger, I would try to picture my life and how exciting it would be. I pictured living in some sort of quaint city, where everything seemed bright and cheerful. There would be life, but the streets wouldn't be too crowded. I don't exactly know where this city of mine is, but I could easily imagine myself as a beautiful adult walking down the streets, maybe even with a man. A man who was mature, maybe artsy.
Dreams never really go how you want, though, and I realized that in high school. So I gave up that fantasy quite quickly. And I'm only now realizing that most of the time, the best things in our life don't last forever. Flowers wilt. Songs end. People die. They love and leave. They feel the need to put love as their number one priority when they could be doing so much more than trying to meet their significant other. And they usually regret it. They wish they spent their short, temporary life on something other than the one who left them.
So why am I wasting my time on Tom? Or rather, why is he wasting his time on me? He's in a daze. He's blinded by this fun trip. He doesn't realize he could be doing far better things right now.
And that's why I don't sleep with him. That is why I do not allow ourselves to bond in such a way that we will make promises to each other and to our relationship. He can try to talk me into it all he wants, but I'll never give in, nor will I tell him why not.
He sat on the edge of the bed, sort of hunched over as he scrolled through his phone. I couldn't help myself as I went behind him, sitting up on my knees as my arms gently draped around his shoulders. I watched his screen for a moment as he scrolled, my head next to his, resting on his shoulder. He didn't seem to care.
He recieves so many tweets each day, whether they be from friends, directors, or even just fans. And he reads a lot of them. Even responds to his friends. It's a lot of work for someone on vacation. I wonder how he felt when he basically read the same tweets over and over from different fans.
I love you, Tom! Tom i love u! I LOVE YOU! Tom, please tweet me. I love you tom.
They weren't all like that, though. Some tweets I saw were kind and refined, saying how they missed his tweets or how they couldn't wait for upcoming films.
Before I even realize what I'm doing, my left hand reaches up to his curls, and I genty run my fingers through them, as if brushing them out.
He smiles. "I think I need a haircut soon. What do you think?"
"I think your long curls are lovely. Besides, your hair isn't even that long." I look at his hair then, observing how it was a bit longer at the top of his head and shorter near his ears and neck.
"I suppose I'll wait a bit, then," he answers thoughtfully.
"What about me, should I get my hair cut?" I bring a strand of my hair in between my fingers, observing the ends. The dark brown color seemed rather average to me, and not fun at all.
Tom shakes his head, sparing a glance at me. "Only if that's what you want. You'd look good with any length of hair."
I just roll my eyes genty, plopping back on the bed. I knew Tom had to work for a bit. He couldn't permanately go on vacation. He can never truly get away. I'm actually really surprised we forgave each other that easily. My anger for him immediately dissloved the night we fought, actually, and it killed me he didn't even call me until a whole day later. Plus with his way to ask for forgiveness? Goddamn, Thomas. How could I possibly stay mad at you at all?
"We should get going once you're finished with that," I point out softly.
He nods, now turning to look at me. "We will. I promise. I'm sorry about this."
I knew he was referring to him working so much.
"It's alright," I insist with a smile. And I meant it. And he knew I meant it.
~
A few days in Maryland went by fairly quickly. I'm starting to consider these days as the Golden Days of our relationship, whatever our relationship may be. We haven't had a fight since, not even a small little argument. We laughed and smiled and kissed freely. We no longer felt the need to purchase two different hotel rooms. And we learned how to properly hide from the public by staying in smaller parts of town, and Tom always wearing his sunglasses.
"We should go camping," he decides one evening.
I laugh. I can't imagine Tom camping. He's too graceful to be carrying firewood around, too gentleman-like to have to use those gross public portable toilets.
"I don't think so. We should just stay within our fancy little hotels."
He smiles, then drops that idea.
He brings up another question then, one just as ridiculous. I watch as he moves his hands around to elaborate the idea. I rather liked that about him. He could hardly keep his long, graceful limbs still. He was always looking around, tapping his fingers or bouncing his knee up and down. He liked to stay active and moving.
And I was just the opposite in a way. I liked moving around, but I also didn't mind having to sit still.
I just nod to him, hardly listening to what he was saying, and he grins. He already knows I was hardly listening. He leans in then, across the small café table we were at and kisses me, his large, warm hands abandoning his tea for just a moment.
And for a small moment, everything seemed magical again. I felt hopeful and desired. I felt like I could do anything I wanted, as though his kisses were fuel to my achievements. It all felt perfect and cliche, like some sort of chick flick.
We pull away, and just smile at each other in a star struck matter. Just months ago I was disgusted when I saw people in cafés doing things such as this, but now here I am, doing it.
"I wish we did this in Autumn," I say softly, almost to myself. His thumb was gently running over my lower lip now.
"Why?"
I shrug. "I just like Autumn better. Everything seems more rustic with the brown leaves, and it's cold, but not too cold. You can wear comfy sweaters and get coffee and stuff."
He smiles. "But it's summer. We can swim and get ice cream and wear shorts. It's always sunny."
I smile back, watching his blue eyes light up as he talked. The way he explained summer made me think of him. He was 'sunny' because he was always bright and cheerful. He loves swimming, and he loves sweets. He made summer sound better than I actually was.
"Yeah, I suppose summer isn't too bad, then." I take his warm hands by the wrists, removing them from my cheeks and holding them on the table top. Summer was fun, but it was also often too hot for physical contact. Not that I'm a fan of physical contact, but Tom is. So I always have to live with warm hugs and cuddling and holding hands in hot weather.
"Let's go to a movie," he decides suddenly, smiling. "We've never gone to the movies as a date."
"You're right," I answer thoughtfully. I watch our hands play for a bit, never really staying still for even a moment. "When, then?"
"Tonight. Or now."
"And what will we see?"
"Whichever showing is next," he answers, grinning.
I grin back, and I move my hands away from his so I can finish my iced coffee, and we can go on this date. Perhaps that's what made his hands so warm. He had hot tea while I had an iced beverage.
"I like this," he suddenly says. "Us, just having drinks, making plans."
"Then let's make more plans," I suggest with a small smile. I knew how Tom liked to try to plan out the future. So why not let him?
He looks happy and grateful at my words. Then a thoughtful expression appears upon his features.
"Let's dance tonight," he decides.
I try to hold back my laugh, and instead act serious. "Okay. Where at? And why?"
"In our hotel room. Just because we can."
I think that's a rather odd reason, but whatever he wants. "Okay. I like that idea. And we can order room service!"
He chuckles at my sudden excitement. Food excites me.
"Deal," he answers.
Then we think some more.
"I'll make you dinner," I say, smiling. "Some time soon. You'll come home from a day of doing some sort of thing, and a wonderful dinner will be waiting for you."
He grins. "That sounds divine, darling."
His turn.
"I want you to come to London with me."
And he just ruined it all.
"Just hear me out," he warns, holding up a single finger. He knows I'll toss the idea away immediately, like I have before. "You don't want this to be over yet, I know you don't. And I don't either. We have a chance, Cassidy, if you'll only stay with me longer as we try to work this all out."
A blush rose to my cheeks as I listened to him, and I found myself looking around the café instead of at him; a terrible habit I have.
"Cass," he says softly, his blue eyes searching mine. "Look at me. Please."
And I do look at him. I want to agree to his proposition, really, I do. But I can't. I cannot go to London with a stranger I have fallen in love with. It's all too surreal. Too sudden.
"I have a lovely little flat, and you'd be welcome to stay as long as you want or need," he continues. "I'll have to work a bit after I get back, but the minute I get a vacation, the both of us will fly to Paris."
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. He wants me to live with him in London, and he wants to take me to Paris. This is the sort of man your mother tells you to never let go. But you know what I'm going to have to do in the end? Let him go. Set him free.
"You know I can't."
"Why?" He asks, his eyes pleading.
"Because I don't deserve you, or London, or Paris. Heck, I hardly deserve Maryland," I explain.
Tom looks sad as he stares at me, his brows raised, and his lips set into a straight line. "You don't truly believe that?"
I shrug, almost ashamed in myself for admitting this to him. I don't know how I've managed to keep that from him for so long.
"Cass, you deserve the very best, okay?" He says, looking very serious now. "I try to be good enough for you, though I'm not always successful."
"Stop it, Tom.." I mutter softly.
But he doesn't stop. "I only need one thing to make me happy, Cass. I need you to confirm you will go to London with me. Just for a bit, even."
I think about it for a moment. I don't want to have to cling to Tom, or rely on him so much he'd feel too bad to leave me. I don't want to get too comfortable with him. He's a famous actor who has plenty of admirers, and I'm me. I don't want to make any promises.
"Can I give you a maybe?" I ask hopefully, pursing my lips.
He nods after a while, looking down. Breaking our intense eye contact. He licks his thin lips lightly. "Yeah. If that's the best I can get right now, I'll take it."
Tom has a special way of making me feel guilty. One sad look and I'll do anything to make him happy again.
"Let's go back to the hotel before we see that movie," I suggest. "I can give you that back rub I promised."
He smiles sadly and nods. "Okay."
I can tell he needs some love right about now, so, naturally, I do what anyone else would do. I pay for our drinks and drag him outside, in a small little alley between the café and a small little trinket shop. I press him gently against the wall and kiss him. That's one way to lift his spirits.
He kisses back, his hands moving to the small of my back. He doesn't seem passionate, though. He kisses me, of course, but he doesn't seem to be putting in everything he's got.
"I love you," I whisper as soon as I pull away. I'm practically hugging him now.
"Do you really?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die," I whisper.
He bends down lightly, and I feel his lips kiss above my breasts, right where my heart would be. I look down at him, feeling an intense affection towards him.
"I love you, too, my sweet girl."
I almost give him everything, then. I almost agree to London, agree to be his girlfriend, and even give him myself. All because he knows exactly what words to use.
But instead of doing all of that, I keep to myself as we start to head back. And I honestly can't tell if our 'relationship' is doing well, or terrible.