Chapter Two
I week later, I was feeling a little down since I thought that I might have heard something from Tom. I mean, granted, he didn’t ask for my number but then again, he was rushed. Still, he could have asked Katie for it and the fact that he didn’t… Yeah, that felt like a slap in the face.
Not a knock down punch, no way was I going to fall to pieces over a man I had only spent a little over an hour with, but I’d be lying if I said that the rejection didn’t sting a little.
Still, there was no doubt that my admiring-a-movie-star-from-a-distance crush had kicked up a gear, into… well that’s just it, I didn’t know what to call how I felt. Lust was a factor but no the overwhelming emotion. And I simply refused to believe it was love. I was not the fickle kind of person would could fall in love after an hour, even with a handsome, charismatic man such as Tom.
I wasn’t that fickle, was I?
No. Nope. No way was I in love with that… adorable man.
I groaned as I finally admitted that I was indeed in love. Maybe not life altering love. Not star-crossed lovers, soulmates, romantic or passionate love, but something real. At least, it was real for me.
Had he felt anything?
Ten days after the experiment, Katie called me.
“Don’t worry,” I assured her as I answered the phone, sounding exceptionally chipper, despite actually feeling slightly subdued at the moment. “I’ve been filling in the questionnaire faithfully,” I said, hoping to pre-empt any talk of Tom.
“Great, but I didn’t call about that.”
“Oh?” No, I hadn’t really thought that she could be so easily fooled, but I had tried.
“No, fool. I want to know how things are going with Tom?”
“Um, well, they aren’t.” I tried not to sound hurt about that.
“Aren’t what?”
“Going. Anywhere.”
“I thought you were meeting up later?”
Me too. “He didn’t take my number, and I didn’t think to get his.” Had he called Katie to get it, maybe? If so, why hadn’t I heard from him?
“Oh.” Katie sounded as surprised as I was, maybe more so, which helped my ego a little because it meant that if Katie was surprised, then I hadn’t manufactured feelings on his side. He could have been pretending, he was an actor after all, but that just didn’t seem to fit with the character of the man I knew.
The man I knew for all of an hour. What did I know about his character?
“How’s the study going?” I asked.
“What? Oh, fine…” She sounded distracted. “Look, do you want his number?”
“Isn’t that interfering with your study? You’re supposed to remain impartial.”
“As a PhD candidate, I am impartial. As your friends, I’m confused. I was sure he liked you.”
“How well do you know him?”
“Um, fairly, I guess. I met him while getting my undergraduate degree. Mum insisted that I enrol in some clubs as well as studying and I decided on drama. Tom was in his final year when I was in my first and we weren’t buddy-buddy, but we did a few plays together and we’ve stayed in touch, on and off. I was sure he liked you.”
“Well if he did, wouldn’t he have called you for my phone number?”
“I guess.” She sounded unsure, which wasn’t like Katie.
“Look, just let it go,” I suggested. “If it’s meant to be, it will be.”
“Let me give you his number.”
“Katie, no. If he’s interested, he’ll find me.”
“Men aren’t the only ones who can be proactive, Elle. We did not go through suffrage and another 100 years of equality campaigning for you to leave it all to the guy, you know.”
“I know, I know. It’s just hard, you know, facing rejection?” She knew just which buttons to press.
“And you think it isn’t hard for men?”
“No, I don’t. I’m just a coward, I guess.”
Katie scoffed. “Oh, come on, I’m not asking you to propose to the guy, just send him a text. If he likes you, he’ll reply and maybe something with come of it. If he doesn’t like you, then you’ll have your answer.”
“I think I already have my answer,” I admitted.
“Oh, Elle, nothing ventured, nothing gained, isn’t that what you tell me?”
She was right, I was more of a seize the day kind of girl. In fact, I have Carpe Diem tattooed on the inside of my left wrist. It was tiny, but it served as a daily reminded that I couldn’t let my insecurities get the better of me.
“Okay, what’s his number?”
She gave it to me, then we made small talk for another ten minutes until she hung up. I then gazed at the phone number for a few minutes, as if it was some ominous portent of impending doom.
“Don’t be an idiot, you already feel rejected, so the worst that can happen is that you know you’ve been rejected. False hope never did anyone any good.”
I traced my tattoo with the thumb of my right hand, drawing strength from it. Katie had once said that the way I used it mirrored some neuro linguistic programming techniques.
Before I could think myself out of it, I grabbed my mobile and composed a text.
‘Hi. Katie gave me your number. Sorry our meeting was cut short and I hope it was nothing serious. Elle xx’
I debated about the kisses, but I always sign a text with them, usually three though. I eventually decided to delete all but one x and sent the message. I almost hoped I didn’t hear anything; if I was this neurotic after one meeting, I couldn’t imagine how insane dating him might make me.
I resolutely decided to put it out of my mind and returned to my work; I was mocking up some concept sketches for a children’s book.
My phone rang but the number said withheld, so I presumed it was a work call. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one working on Saturday.
“Hello?” I answered, sounding like a chipper illustrator, whatever that is.
“Elle, is that you?”
My stylus flew over my graphics tablet, leaving an ugly line through Henry the Hedgehog’s concept sketch.
“Shit!” I cried as a reflex. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m not swearing at you, I just put a line right through my drawing. Gimme a second.”
Undo is a lifesaver and once I had undone the catastrophe, I saved my work and took those few seconds to calm down.
“Sorry, Tom. Yes, this is Elle. You just took me by surprise.”
“I’m sorry, I should have texted you but when I got your message, I was just so pleased to hear from you.”
As great as that was to hear, my number wasn’t exactly a national secret, so he couldn’t have wanted to speak to me that badly.
“I couldn’t believe I left without your number but those messages were from my agent. I’ve been trying to meet with Martin Scorsese for ages, about new film he’s putting together and suddenly he had a 24 hour window, so my agent had booked flights and I literally had an hour to get to the airport. As soon as things calmed down and I was on the flight, I realised my mistake, and to make it worse, I haven’t put Katie’s new number in my phone yet.”
Okay, he was forgiven.
“I confess I did a bit of internet stalking to try and find you,” he said, sounding slightly contrite, “but with only Elle and illustrator to go on, I came up with far too many possibilities. I’m so sorry to leave you hanging like that.”
I was grinning now.
“It’s fine,” I smiled. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to call Katie earlier.”
“What are you up to?” he asked.
I explained the basic plot of the new series of woodland children’s books, and how I was making a drawing to show how I envisioned each character, according to the brief they sent. The publisher would then choose their favourite illustrator from the designs we sent in.
“So you’re auditioning?” he asked.
“I guess. Probably a lot less nerve wracking than auditioning is for you, I get to do most of mine in private.”
“Do you do a lot of illustrating books?” he asked.
“Not a lot, but the pay is decent when working with a publisher and I get royalties each time a copy is sold. It helps when work isn’t always steady. I basically take anything I’m offered, from original drawings or cartoons for self-published books, to a couple of weekly web comic strips.”
“What’s your hope in the end?” he asked. “If one of them could support you?”
“I guess I’d like to do more graphic novels, either my own or illustrating for others. I’ve done some for indie comic houses but the pay isn’t terrific. Actually, I do like some diversity in my work, so I don’t know if I’d give everything else up, even if I could afford to.”
“Sounds like you have the perfect job,” he agreed.
“Except that I work from home. It gets a little lonely sometimes but on the other hand, I have the kind of freedom than an office job wouldn’t give me.”
“You really sound as if you love your work,” he told me.
“I do,” I was grinning. I could talk about my work all day long if allowed to. “I don’t think it matters what you do, as long as you enjoy it, then it stops being work and becomes fun.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he enthused.
“Anyway, enough about me, how did your meeting with Scorsese go?”
“It went well, I think. I’m quietly confident but things are far from finalised. I doubt the movie will be made for another 18 months, they’re still putting the financing together, for which it helps to have a cast in place. I just hope I’m a big enough draw to get a seat at the table.”
“I have faith in you,” I assured him.
“Thank you, darling.”
Boyed by my non-rejection, I decide to push my luck.
“So, do you still want to get together for that drink sometime?”
“Love to, but I’m stuck in LA for another few days. I was headed out here soon anyway, the meeting just meant I had to leave four days early, then there didn’t seem like any point in flying home just to come back. I’ve got a couple more meetings and auditions, then I have to make a few stops on the way home, publicising a DVD release, but I should be home on Friday. How does that strike you?”
“You mean go out on Friday?”
“Yeah. I should land about six pm.”
“Tom! I can't believe you’re suggesting that! You’ll be jetlagged to hell and no one in their right mind would agree to go out with you that night.”
“But I want to see you,” he said softly.
I sighed, realising I may have come across more harshly than I intended. “I want to see you too,” I admitted. “Tell you what, why don’t I come to yours, I’ll cook some food and bring DVDs and that way, if you pass out mid-evening, I won’t have to wrangle you into any cabs.”
“That sound like an excellent plan, darling.”
“Are you sure you want me invading your personal space that soon?”
“Thanks to Katie’s experiment, I feel like you’ve invaded my space already and I must say, it’s been a pleasure.”
I grinned. “Charmer.”
“That’s me.” I could almost picture his cocky smile. “So anyway, what time do you go to bed, usually?”
“Um, I don’t know, between eleven and two am, depending on the day and how well I can sleep. Why?”
“Because my driver will be knocking on my door any second now, but I’d like to talk to you some more. Can I call you this evening?”
“Of course."
"What time is it there?”
I checked the time on my laptop. “Just gone a quarter to five. What about there?”
“Nearly 9am.”
“Oh God, my text didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, I was in the shower.”
Now why would he put such naughty thoughts into my head? Didn’t he know how dangerous that was?
“Hold up there, buddy,” I said in my best cop impression. “I have another two sketches to finish today, so all talk of you being naked, especially with water cascading over you or things being lathered or rubbed onto your body, must stop!”
He was silent for a beat and I wondered if I’d said too much. I was only teasing.
“Hmm,” he murmured, in a voice that can only be described as sex on legs. “You must have an exceptionally dirty mind to get all that from one innocent shower comment.”
A lady neither confirms nor denied such allegations, so I remained quiet.
“I look forward to exploring it.”
I gasped as desire literally pooled between my legs. “You! You dirty rotten tease!” I yelled, although I wasn’t actually angry. “You can't say stuff like that in your smooth-as-silk voice and get people all worked up and then not follow through! You’re mean!”
He chuckled but it was a slightly deeper sound than I remembered. “Oh darling, you have no idea. But don’t worry, one day soon, you will.”
Bastard! Stinking, rotten bastard.
“That’s my driver at the door,” he said, his tone just as sexy. “Now darling, I want you to promise me that whatever happens after I hang the phone up, you will give me a blow by blow account later.”
Did he mean?
“You mean you want me to tell you about…”
“Masturbating, yes. And if you’re a very good girl, I’ll help you come again.”
I heard a door open and he must have put a hand over the mouthpiece as his “Good morning,” was muffled. “Lovely talking to you, darling,” he was back talking to me now, “but I really have to go now. Remember what I said.”
I narrowed my eyes and spoke slowly and I hoped menacingly. “You are a dead man, Hiddleston.”
“I do hope that’s a promise. I’m about to get into the lift so if we get cut off, remember I’ll call you-”
And he was gone.
I sat there, the phone still pressed to my ear for a few moments.
What the fuck just happened? Did my English gentleman just reveal his dirty side?
I devilish smile spread over my lips as I realised, he did. And I liked it.
As turned on as I was, I really did need to finish these sketches today, then I could have a few days to let them rest before going back and checking that I really was happy with them. As such, my wank would have to wait but with any luck, it would be all the better for it.
***
When it came down to it, I actually wasn’t in the mood to have phone sex with Tom and while he made one or two leading comments, he obviously took my hint and didn’t press the matter. In fact, he was a perfect gentleman.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it was more a case of feeling insecure. He was a movie star, I was a plain Jane and I worried he’d see me a sex line or something. I knew this was my own insecurities coming to the fore, but I couldn’t help how I felt. Besides, phone sex is not to be expected after only one meeting, one text and one phone call.
Still, he called me twice a day, morning and early evening for him. For me it was late afternoon and late night. I offered to call him sometimes but he insisted that his call package gave reasonable international rates. I didn’t believe him, but I didn’t even have an international call package, so I let him talk me into it.
I vowed to cook him something nice when he got back, just hoping that he wasn’t delayed or anything.
I was pleasantly surprised when he kept calling, and we talked about anything and everything, from TV to politics (yes I know the rule, but we still like each other, amazingly, and I don’t think he’s taken a hit out on me, so we survived).
In fact, our talks were so good, that I often stayed up later than I should, causing me to become somewhat nocturnal. I’m not sure the post man knew what to make of me when I answered the door at 10.30 am to sign for a parcel, with bed head and only an inside out dressing gown protecting my modesty. I was usually the picture of professionalism when he rang. Well okay, my hair was mostly up in a messy bun and I didn’t often wear makeup in the house, but at least I was usually dressed, even if there sometimes were tea stains on my t-shirt.
My closest friends and of course, my sister, knew about Tom, but they didn’t exactly know who he was yet.
Hannah, that’s my sister, knew all about the experiment and was keen to know how things had gone so when she called, I told her about Tom and how well I thought we’d hit to off, and about him running out then coming back for a quick kiss. I of course, downplayed things, not letting myself believe that I actually cared about him, so I certainly wasn’t about to admit more than a passing attraction to my protective older sister. She asked a lot of questions about him, sensing my interest, and when I hedged on some questions, she called me out (sisters are good at that) so I realised I’d have to tell the truth, or at least part of it. I’d just watched the National theatre’s Coriolanus which Tom had been in (nope, don’t ask how I got my hands on the DVD, it isn’t exactly kosher) so I told Hannah that he worked at the Donmar theatre. She thinks he’s some kind of administrator cum stage hand.
I fed the same story to my two closest friends, Rayne, an old uni friend, and Marie, who I had met when I moved into my building (she had since moved away to live with her boyfriend, but our friendship remained strong).
I feel bad for lying, really I do, but I’m just not ready for the reaction when they learn I’m dating Tumblr’s main squeeze (yeah, I’d gone a lot of googling on him, and that site seems especially obsessed with the man. To be fair, I could see why).
Hannah will be the first to know the truth, she always is and her being in Scotland that means she can't turn up on my doorstep and ask annoying questions. Questions like ‘What are you going to do when he’s away filming for six months?’, ‘Do you honestly think this can last?’ and my personal favourite, ‘You know I love you, but he’s surrounded by beautiful, nubile young women all day every day. Even if he is faithful, isn’t the jealousy going to eat you alive?’
It’s not that I know her so well that I can predict what she’s going to say (although I can) it’s more that these are the questions that keep popping into my head with alarming regularity, and which I’m studiously trying to ignore.
This relationship (if it can be called that yet) may very well end in tears.
However, this relationship will definitely end in tears if I give into my fears and don’t give it a shot.
Yeah, I’m punching above my weight here, but so what? And some celebrities were married to non-famous people.
Chris O’Donnel was married to his high school sweetheart and they’ve been together 18 years now! Matt Damon married a bartender and they had 9 years of marriage under their belts. Jerry Seinfeld has been married a woman who worked in PR for 15 years, Jeff Bridges got married to a waitress in 1977, so their marriage was only slightly older than I was! Christian Bale had married Winona’s Ryder’s PA, again, they’d been married for 15 years. Nick Cage married a waitress, Patrick Dempsey married a makeup artist in 1999 and Paul Rudd, Robert De Niro, Kevin Jonas, Aaron Paul, Jimmy Fallon, Jon Bon Jovi and Vince Vaughn, to name a few others, had all married regular people.
I’d done my research. And that list didn’t even include the women who had married non celebrities!
No, this could work, I just had to not let my fears hold me back. And maybe become a waitress or bartender. That seemed a popular profession for celebrity marriage. Seriously.
So that was why the secrecy with my friends, because I didn’t want to ruin things prematurely. Also, while I trusted my friends, I wasn’t entirely sure that they wouldn’t tell anyone, even if I swore them to secrecy. JK Rowling’s lawyers had been contractually obligated not to tell anyone that her book, The Cuckoo's Calling, written under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith, was her, but he had told his wife and she had told a friend and then everyone and his wife knew.
So it might not take much for this to become public knowledge (and I had a feeling that my presence in Tom’s life wouldn’t be quite as well received as JK’s new book had been) and something told me that if the tabloids got hold of it too soon, it would be over before it had begun.
So I pushed such thoughts aside and spoke to him each day, as if he was just a bloke I’d met down the pub, and as if there was nothing unusual about how we had met (I shudder to think what would the papers will make of that!).
Katie knew, of course, and I told her the truth, which was that we were often talking by phone, but she didn’t ask too many details, perhaps sensing her conflict of interest.
As the day of his return grew closer, I became more nervous and worried but I tried to hide it. Tom assured me that he only wanted something simple to eat that evening, and that he had a massive DVD collection and Netflix, so he could provide the movie. All I had to do was bring myself and the food.
We agreed that he would text me when he landed, and he expected that it would take him at least an hour to clear customs, collect his baggage and get home, so we agreed that I’d come to his for two hours after his text, which gave me plenty of notice.
I hardly got any sleep on the Thursday night, I was too nervous about seeing him and every time I closed my eyes, I felt his lips on mine again, as I had during our brief kiss. That immediately woke me up and revved up my engine to the point where sleep would be impossible for a while but by the time I had relaxed enough sleep again, that same memory would haunt me once more.
Eventually I drifted off into a fitful sleep at about 4am, and awoke at 10.30, but luckily the postman wasn’t ringing again. Although tired, I was also exhilarated, and I knew that dosing off again for a few more minutes sleep would be impossible, so I got up and did my best to ignore the fact that I had a date with Tom tonight.
By lunchtime I had given up on work and found myself surfing the net, looking for pictures of him and my 3pm, I was ensconced on my sofa watching one of his films.
We’d just call today a duvet day.
As 6pm grew closer, I couldn’t stop fidgeting. I packed and repacked my ingredients, most of which I had pre-prepared and just needed reheating, and nervously paced, trying not to let my fantasies get too out of control.
At 5.35 I got a pleasant surprise when Tom texted to say they had landed early. I replied with ‘See you soon. Xx’ and promptly I went into panic mode, wondering why I had insisted on waiting until the last minute to get ready! I didn’t want my makeup to look tired or overdone, as it might if I had hours in which to gaze at my flaws in a mirror, so I had opted to leave it until he texted. Now I wished that I’d spent the day in the salon, getting my hair, nails, fake tan and makeup done.
Somehow I managed to keep the makeup in check and not look like a drag queen, despite my insecurities, and I opted for black trousers, a sweater and boots, just like the first time. I looked nice but not dressed up. I didn’t figure a man just off an international flight wanted me to turn up in a ball gown and stiletto heels.
Finally happy with my appearance, I left the house, only to dash back from the bus stop when I realised I’d left the milk I’d bought for him behind (you always need fresh milk when you’ve been away). Luckily the bus I needed runs every ten minutes or so, and I knew I’d left myself loads of time, so wouldn’t be late.