Sweet November (A Tom Hiddleston Story)

The Proposition

*** alright, bare with me guys, I know reader/OFC seems a bit psycho in this chapter... but I promise it'll be worth it as we continue to get to know and understand her. If you've seen the film this story is based off of, you'll get it.***

I didn't want coffee.

I didn't need coffee.

No, in fact, I was wired enough as it was.

I had been up since 5 a.m. and already down several cups as I dug the boxes from out of storage. The finality of it was somehow, refreshing. Should it make me sad? Perhaps... But I was comforted in the knowledge that the weight of it, quite literally, had been taken off my shoulders.

I was beginning to lose myself in my thoughts while the stranger, Tom, stood at the counter waiting for my tea and his... coffee.

I was grateful to Marian, she had been so willing to take my donations into her charity shopped when I had mentioned it at one of our monthly dinners. This tightly knit community of Knotting Hill had become home to me, they took me in and accepted me with no questions when I arrived so many years ago, completely broken and alone... Wanting nothing more than to have complete control over my own life and decisions.

Just then, I was broken from my thoughts by the sound of a voice clearing, that voice. It was smooth and eloquent, something I could imagine falling asleep to... night after night.

"Your tea, milady," he smirked in mocked propriety.

I smiled up at him, as he placed the small mug in front of me, "Thank you!"

He took the seat in front of me, nodding his head in affirmation. I watched the way his slender fingers gripped his own mug, as he pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

His eyes scanned the small café, further confirming my previous thoughts.

Fear and paranoia.

Fear... and paranoia...

I wanted to click my tongue at the thought, but then it would most likely peak his curiosity and I needed to feel him out some more. I had always had a bad habit of analyzing men, it was my calling.

I had discovered I had a gift, one that could help some men. Don't get me wrong, it definitely had it's downsides, and sometimes it became difficult, even dangerous. But more often than not, the results far overshadowed those few and fleeting detriments.

"So... Antonina..." he began, breaking the sudden silence that overcame you.

You smirked up at him, "So... Tomathy?" I quipped, he nearly choked on his coffee, his eyes lighting up at my mocking joke.

"Not Tomathy?" I raised a brow, obviously teasing him.

He shook his head, waving his hand out in front of him as he swallowed the coffee he had nearly sprayed all over the table, "Definitely... not... Tomathy..." he grinned. His teeth were perfectly straight, lighting up his entire face as he smiled. I couldn't help but admire the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, he was a man who loved to laugh.

I made a mental note.

So why did he seem so completely miserable?

"What is it then?" I took another sip from the warm tea.

"Well, my mother calls me Thomas, but only my mother," he quirked his brows, "Please, just call me Tom."

"Tom," I echoed his words.

"So, who are you Antonina?" now it was my turn to nearly choke, no one had ever asked me that, and I wasn't sure how to answer... Hell, I wasn't even sure what he meant by it.