Life Is What You Make It (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfic)

Part 7: The Run-In

Mischief Managed

After I settled Pratt and Anna in their room and made sure that mischief was managed, I walk to my room just down the hall. I let the events of the evening play through my mind, and I couldn't keep a smile from my lips.

Though I know no person is perfect, I think Tom is as close as they come to it. His smiles, his eyes, his positively giddy sense of humor, his intelligence. I could go on and on, but I know I need to get some sleep.

As I enter my room, I secure the door then strip to my bra and panties, wash my face and brush my teeth, then change into my pajamas. Thank Aries that Tom can't see them - I'm wearing my Loki PJ bottoms and a green t-shirt that reads, 'Kneel!' across the front. I make a mental note to bury these deep in my suitcase when I wake up in case Tom stops by.

As I think of seeing Tom again, I feel a little apprehensive. I know that I like him and I remember what Elsa said about him liking me, but that's just conjecture on her part. What if I'm reading more into this than is there? How embarrassing would it be if I put myself out there, and he rejects me? Of course, it wouldn't be like a normal rejection. Tom would probably be all, "Oh, I am so sorry, Darling. This is totally my fault, you thinking I am interested in you and such. I apologize unreservedly. How can I make it up to you? Buy you a puppy? Conquer Jotunheim, perhaps?" Ugh!

Plus, I know Tom is still somewhat guarded about his feelings. What if he plays it cool to protect his heart? I know I'm up for a little challenge, but there's a difference between breaking through a few emotional barriers and swimming across a moat, then fighting a dragon only to find the draw bridge is locked.

The only logical thing I can think to do with my sleep-deprived brain at 2:30 a.m. is text Tom. After all, if he is as excited/confused/obsessed with what is going on between us as I am, he'll still be awake, right?

I look around the room and I spy his jacket. I pick it up and hang it carefully on the back of the bathroom door, then I snap a pic with my cell phone.

Okay, I'm not being totally honest here. When I pick up his jacket, I hold it to my nose to smell the warm scent which is Tom. It's musky with a hint of... what is that, sugar cookie?... and a distinct scent that the feral part of my brain knows is unique to Tom. Once I finish sniffing his jacket like I'm a kitten and its catnip, then I hang it on the door.

I pull up the pic in a text to Tom's number then I type a message: "This is a nice jacket. It would be a shame if something were to happen to it. If you want to ever see it again, meet me in the hotel lobby at 10:00 a.m." I quickly type in the name of my hotel, then my name with an xo and hit Send before I have time to talk myself out of it.

I crawl into bed with my phone in hand. I have two wishes right now: one that he texts me right back, and two that I actually didn't send the message and I can avoid the embarrassment I know I'll feel when one doesn't happen.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my hand, and when I look, I see it's a new text.

"I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom I can tell you I don't have any money, but what I do have are a very particular set of skills. One of which is to set my alarm so that I can meet you at your hotel at 10:00 a.m. sharp. See you in a few hours, Darling. Sweet dreams!  xo, Romeo."

I know I have the most adorkable smile on my face as I drift off to sleep.

Stretching My Legs

I wake up the next morning at 7:00 a.m.  I can't help it. Once I get used to a time zone, my inner clock wakes me up at 7:00 like I am a compass and that time in the morning is my true north.

Though I almost always wake up early, that doesn't mean I'm a happy morning person. I'm not exactly grumpy, more like I should have a sign that reads, "Use extreme caution" at least for the first several minutes after I wake.

I stretch my arms and legs, then I climb out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. I brush my teeth then my hair, and I decide to go for a run this morning. Morning runs are the best. They give me a chance to clear my head and loosen my body, plus runs are sometimes the only time alone I get for the day. After all, a girl needs her alone time!

I decide to put on my Thor and Loki running leggings, my trusty cross trainers, then a t-shirt and a thick hoodie over it. It's October in London after all, and I know the mornings can be a bit nippy. Finally, I put my hair in a messy bun, grab my cell and room card to store in a pocket, pick up some gloves from the night stand, and I'm off.

I leave through the main entrance of the hotel and turn right down the sidewalk. Foot traffic seems pretty light for a Saturday morning, so I start a light jog just to warm up.

I often run while listening to music. This morning, however, I've decided to let the sounds of early-morning London be my soundtrack.

As I turn the corner, looking back over my shoulder to see a building I just passed from another angle, I bump into someone hard, so hard in fact that I'm knocked backward on my butt.

"What the hell? Are you okay?" he asks. The 'he' in question is Chris Evans. Unlike me, he is still standing like the brick wall that I suspect he is.

"Mia?  God, I am so sorry!  Here, let me help you up," Evans says as he reaches out for my hand. I start to laugh at my clumsiness, and I assure Evans that I'm alright when he asks again.

I can see Evans is dressed for running as well, so I ask him if he's just starting or finishing. "Well, I've already done about four miles, so I thought I might run two or three more," he says.

"Want some company?" I ask.

"Sure."

Evans turns the direction I was headed, and we start our run. It's mostly quiet, with us sharing little comments about London or the weather periodically.

"So, what happened with you and Emma last night?" I ask. Evans gives me a sideways glance, and I immediately start backtracking. "Not that! I mean, did you two have a good time together? Again, I don't mean that! Maybe I should just stop talking," I say.

Evans chuckles and just shakes his head. "If you must know, and it appears you must, Emma and I went for a really early breakfast, then I dropped her at her flat," Evans says simply.

When I ask, "Really?" I get another glance from Evans. I continue because, again, I appear to have no filter this morning.  "I've just heard... well, you know... rumor has it that you're quite the player," I finish lamely, knowing I'm acting like an idiot.

At this, Evans starts laughing and actually has to stop running to catch his breath. "Where'd you hear that? Was it from one of the scandal papers or a blog by some anonymous know-it-all?" Evans asks, and I am truly ashamed of what I've said.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Chris. What I said was way off base," I say, taking his hand in mine for a moment. Evans just looks at me and smiles, and his expression shows that all is forgiven.

"Tell you what. To make up for my inability to have a civilized conversation this morning, how about I buy you a coffee?  I think there's a little shop on the next corner," I say.

Evans' reply is a smile and "Deal!"