now that we don't talk [tom blyth]

22.

"Kira, I am begging you to take a deep breath right now otherwise you'll need a fucking ventilator," Tom said firmly, his hands gripping tightly onto my shoulders. I didn't dare to look at him, my mind travelling a million miles an hour and focusing more on the premiere tonight than anything else. "I am being serious, take a breath."

I rolled my eyes at the taller brunette, scoffing before taking a deep breath in and out. Tom did the same, us both breathing in rhythm with each other slowly and deeply, much like some of the other things we do together.

"Right, thanks for that. I need to get dressed," I mumbled under my breath, pulling away and taking my underwear-clad body back into the bathroom with the dress I had been fitted with. I slid the fitted, red silk up my body, it hugging around my hips and chest perfectly. The material ruched in different spots to give the dress shape and texture.

"TOM!" I yelled from the bathroom as he came darting in. I noticed his eyes widened the moment he caught a glimpse of me, both of our cheeks flushing red. "Could you pretty please zip this up at the back?" He nodded, walking over to the vanity where I stood and placing himself behind me, grabbing the zip and the cold material.

His eyes found mine in the mirror reflection and did not tear away whilst he slowly zipped the dress up. I could feel his firm hands gliding up my back, slowly, gently, causing goosebumps up my body. When the zip reached the top, he leaned down, placing a kiss on the crevice of my neck and shoulder. I rocked my head to the side, giving him more room to place soft kisses along the skin of my shoulder. He pulled back, squeezing my hips and leaving the room without a word. I stood there, stunned, before getting to work doing my makeup as I was left with only a few 20 minutes before the Uber would be outside to get me.

As the 20 minutes part, I dashed out of the bathroom, grabbed my bag and equipment from the bed, planted a rushed kiss on Tom's lips as he lay on the bed and sprinted out of the hotel room. I caught Tom smiling and shaking his head as I ran out of the room, clearly finding my frantic behaviour completely amusing.

This premiere felt less overwhelming than the last. Maybe it was because I wasn't confronted with my ex-boyfriend, now actual-boyfriend, and grappling with the sexual tension of the entire night. It was past midnight when I crept back into the hotel room, slowly shutting the door and top-toeing over to the bed. I struggled to unzip the dress on my own but managed to get it halfway so I could spin it around to my front and unzip it all the way, all whilst Tom slept without a clue in the world. He looked peaceful and comfortable, breathing slowly out of his mouth in a deep slumber.

By the time I showered, cleaned my face off of all the makeup and crawled into bed, the clock on my phone was showing past 1 am and the moment my head hit the pillow, I entered a deep sleep.

-

The airport was the busiest I had seen it. People were at every entrance, every escalator and lift, and Tom and I had done a fantastic job at booking a flight at peak time. I grabbed onto Tom's hand firmly, not letting him or my bag go as we made our way through the crowd of people at the airport.

"Tom," I heard him hum in response, "This is a lot." He squeezed my hand in reassurance.

"Won't be long and we'll be back on the flight," I just nodded, following him to the check-in desk.

As we stood there, getting our tickets for the flight, I noticed a small crowd of people off to the side. Each of them carried a camera in their hand, a few flashing here and there. I felt my heart start to race a little bit faster, my hands becoming clammy as I realised they were trying to snap a shot of the white boy of the moment, Mr Tom Blyth, the man whose hand I was entangled with. I knew what this meant, I am a journalist for Christ sake. It was clear they were here incase the cast of Wonka were here, but to their luck it just so happened the other lead male was here instead. I knew exactly what was going to happen with these photos and the headlines that would accompany them. I felt more and more overwhelmed, the space feeling warmer and I felt this need to get out of there.

As Tom picked up the tickets, I gently pulled him in the opposite direction from the departures area, instead over to the toilets which were tucked away down a corridor. Thankfully, no one followed and I had a moment that I could breathe.

"Kira," his voice was laced with concern, "what's up?"

"There's paparazzi taking photos of you. Well, of me too, apparently." I heard Tom sigh, grasping my hands and planting a kiss on the top of them.

"Everything will be fine," his face was close to mine, putting a light kiss on my lips.

"It won't be though, because now everyone will know about it," he sighed, and I noticed the thoughts start to wander through his mind of what all of this actually meant.

The moment this goes public, it's game over. We don't get to take it back. The moment people find out I am a journalist, Tom's career is over, because how bad does it look of Hollywood's new it-boy is dating a sleazy journalist?

"It will be fine, babe, I promise," Tom said quietly, pulling me into a warm embrace.

As he pulled back, he grabbed my hand and pulled us out of the short corridor and over towards the gates. I could hear the clicking of the cameras but both Tom and I chose to ignore them, his hand wrapped tight in mine whilst the other grasped the bag over my shoulder. We walked as quickly as we could to the departures lounge and away from all the paparazzi. We found somewhere to sit and wait, both in silence and Tom just caressing the top of my hand. I knew the moment I woke tomorrow those photos would be everywhere and we would begin playing the very dangerous game of public relations.