Bridget Hope is a waitress newly moved to London. Tom Holland, an aspiring actor is her new next door neighbour. Despite their physical attraction towards each other, Bridget resents against him, not wanting to get trapped in his playboy antics. But...
WARNINGS: MENTION OF SUICIDE, MENTION OF TERMINAL ILLNESS
Brunch was an ultimate disaster. Mother and I hardly spoke a word to each other after the car and again, I sat in the backseat on the way back like a child. She invited us to dinner later on that night and then she would go. Tom agreed for us which I gave him grief about. She left and did shopping while Tom and I sat in my apartment doing nothing. I mostly sat contemplating my arguments against her while Tom religiously looked over his script until it was time for us to go to dinner. We got ready in our separate places.
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I put some nude strappy heels on and pinned my hair up, a few loose pieces stringing out. I wrapped a silver bracelet around my wrist and a simple pearl necklace around my neck. I touched up my makeup and sprayed some perfume, grabbed my bag and left the flat, knocking on Toms door.
"Coming!" He shouted from inside.
I stood back and leaned against the banister in front of his door, fiddling with the dress. Now it was night, the air was cooler and I was very aware of not having a bra on but I wasn't too bothered.
Tom opened the door and smiled at me before closing it and locking it.
"Good evening, wow you look gorgeous." Tom complimented, looking me up and down.
"Thank you, so do you. I love those glasses." I smiled.
He was wearing a burgundy tight cotton jumper, hugging his muscles and his broad shoulders and dark patterned trousers with the same glasses from earlier.
"I love this dress." He bit his lip, walking towards me.
"I wonder why." I giggled, looking at him blatantly stare at my breasts.
"You look classy and sexy." He smiled.
I rolled my eyes, "Let's go before you mentally undress me." I said, taking his hand.
"Too late."
-
Tom and I arrived outside of a very fancy restaurant in the West End.
"Are you sure this is the place?" He asked warily as we got out of the car.
"Yup. Nothing less for my mother."
"Before we go in, Diane is a bitch. Sorry, I've wanted to say that for a while." He sighed, interlocking my hand in his.
"Yes Thomas, she is a bitch."
We walked in and a waiter greeted us at the entrance. We said we were meeting Diane Hope and his demeaner immediately changed, scurrying to get us menus. We followed him through the modern restaurant until we reached our table. Everyone around us was snobby and I could feel the judgement seeping through their glares.
"Hello, Bridget. Hello, Thomas." Mother smiled, still seated.
