Secret Love

It's a Date

"I'm so sorry, darling." She hung her head and sobbed. "Please, try and understand?" Tears dripped onto her lap. Why did guilt have to hurt so bloody much?

She'd made it home and into the house by about an hour when her phone rang.  She was bent over,  busy loading the washing machine with the girls' bedding - the highlight of her Friday night these days - when the back pocket of her jeans burst into life.

Banging her head off the machine,with a curse, she straightened up and grabbed the offending article.  The screen was illuminated with a mobile number, one she didn't recognise.  For a second, she contemplated ignoring it, then with more joy than she'd anticipated, she remembered. It had to be him!

"Hi, Flick speaking." She leaned back against the countertop and imagined his face as she spoke. "That you Tom?"

"Darling, you remembered! I'm flattered." He was, from the word go, charm personified. "You ok? Get home, ok? Im sorry I left it so long. You must be tired." He instantly made her feel like she was the centre of his world.

"Im fine, thanks. I got home about an hour ago. Just doing some laundry, the beds won't strip themselves." She winced as the words left her mouth. Here was Tom Hiddleston calling her, presumably to arrange their dinner, and she was talking about bed sheets!  Not only that, but she'd implied more than one bed.

If Tom noticed, he gave no sign. With utter charm, he simply carried on. "Well, that's great news. Home an hour, eh? So you must live in London then?" He looked in the mirror in the hall, glaring at himself.  Smooth Hiddles, he said, smooth. She's going to think you're some stalker, working out travel times like that. He'd only mentioned it as it pretty much matched his own.

"So, given you now know the highlight of my day is laundry...." she went on digging a hole.

"You mean speaking to me doesn't rate more than your sheets?" He was teasing, feeling more confident now he knew she was every bit as socially inept as him.

"Oh shit! No, sorry, I mean.. oh Christ, why would you even WANT to see me now?" She felt herself combust as she started to laugh. "I mean... hahahah... Im.... just...."

"You're beautiful, and you're silly, and you're making me feel like Im amazingly competent at this dating malarky, so keep it up!"

"You really need to stop saying that, you know. Someone - me - might start to believe you!" She smiled, running a hand through her hair, and feeling a girlish blush creep up her neck.

Tom laughed and shook his head, usless on the phone. Rolling his eyes at his own ineptitude, he continued. "Ok, well, I promise to limit it to twice a conversation, ok?  Now, dinner...?"

"Ok, you charmer you! So, yes, please. How about somewhere halfway between us?" She stood and walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. Shifting the inevitable pile of washing, she sat down. "Of course, I dont know where you are, so that could be Wolverhampton for all I know!"

"Ehehehe!" His laugh sounded every bit as warm and genuine in real life, and the sixteen year old fangirl in her wanted to hear it so very much closer. "Well, given we already established you're in London and given that I got off with you at King's Cross....." he paused, pretending to think, "How about... I just come and pick you up, darling? It would be so much easier. And don't worry, I promise to have you home by midnight...."

"Midnight? What, you need your beauty sleep, Hiddleston? If we're going out, then we're going OUT! Up to it? You were born in 985AD, after all!" She giggled, spunding exactly how she felt.  Like a teenager arranging a first date.

"Oh, you cheeky monster!" He countered, relishing the banter back and forth. She really was amazing. Totally unfazed by his fame, giving every bit as good as she got.  He was becoming more and more convinced she was someone extra special. 

"Im sorry Tom, I just couldn't resist. It's  been a while since...." she paused, how far should she go? She leaned back in the chair, imagining his face, eyebrows raised in shock and smile.... oh, that smile... those lips....  She shook her head and dragged herself back to reality.

"Since you went on a date with a Norse God of Mischief?" He finished for her, rescuing her with true Hiddlescharm.

"Yes..." she was quiet now, the reality hitting home.  A date, an actual date. With an actual man. And not her husband.

"Well, let's take it a step at a time.  If you'd like to, perhaps you could text me your address?"

His phone pinged with her answer.

"Thanks, darling." He suppressed the Oh my GOD in his mind when he saw how close she actually was.

"Tom?" She sounded almost afraid now.

"Yes love?" He smiled at this new, delicately vulnerable Flick.  The Flick that he'd been completely unprepared for but now wanted to reassure.

"What...what time? I hate to admit it, but I'm pretty much free all the time, being the loser that I actually am, so whenever suits you?"

Tom had a sudden feeling that given 24 hours, she might back out. Not because she wanted to, but because she thought she should. He had an idea.

"Well, actually," he stood and picked up his jacket. "How about 15 minutes?"

"WHAT!?"  She leapt up, spilling washing and her dignity all over the floor. "Now?"

"Well, I dont know about you, but I just think Fridays are for more than doing the laundry. We can go for a drink, nothing fancy, and if you can stand me after that tomorrow I'll take you out on the town?" He waited, literally fingers crossed.

Flick glanced up at the kitchen clock.  It was 8.30. Normally, she'd be knee-deep in ironing, tv on as the girls argued over what Netflix to watch.  Her eyes wandered to a photo on the shelf above the washing machine.

Next to the potplant and the little dish with all odds and ends everyone accumulates. There, smiling down was John and the girls.  Taken on the very beach the girls were now staying next to.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.  This was Tom Hiddleston. This wasn't real life. This was a chance of a lifetime. It was just a drink, that's all. Even John, especially John, would understand.

"Sounds good, see you soon?" She smiled, her bottom lip wobbling dangerously.

"Fantastic darling! See you so very soon."  He hung up with a smile and paused for a second, looking at the phone nestled in his hand.

Then, grabbing his keys, he walked out and closed the door, heart racing. There was something very special about this woman, he could tell.  He couldn't wait to find out.

Flick sat back down as the line went dead.  Suddenly, her feet went as cold as the sweat on her back. What had she done? Betrayed John's memory? No, even he wouldn't want her to feel like that.

"I'm so sorry, darling." She hung her head and sobbed. "Please, try and understand?" Tears dripped onto her lap. Why did guilt have to hurt so bloody much?