Lion and Lace [Tom Hiddleston]

Episode 5

I compose myself before Tom opens the door. "I've been here twice now, I know your address. I should expect some sort of untimely death in the next few days, huh?"

"I make exceptions for the pretty smart ones, you're probably safe."

"Phew. I was thinking I'd set you up in front of the bookshelves on a barstool."

"Sounds kinky."

I frown and rub my nose, the conversation with Nathan still too fresh. Honestly I just want to go back to my hotel and drown myself in alcohol, but that would be unprofessional and I'd end up sad and hungover.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop with the inappropriate comments. Like I said, there are very few people who don't censor themselves around me and where I can let my guard down. That doesn't give me the right, though, especially when you're-"

"No, it's fine." I force a smile. "Please don't. I could do with a laugh."

"Oooh in that case, what do you call a psychic little person who has escaped from prison?"

I'm just in the right mood to tell him the answer, but he looks so impressed with himself I don't have the heart to ruin his punchline.

"I don't know,"

"A small medium at large."

The pride on his face is too cute to hold back a giggle. "Ok, go get a stool and I'll get the lights set up."

Once Tom is seated and surrounded by softboxes, I take out my makeup kit and squirt a small amount of product on the back of my hand, mixing it with a large brush. "Go easy on the eyeliner," Tom says with a smirk.

"Awww, spoil sport. I was going for a Jack Sparrow kind of look." I apply the light foundation and refiner to Tom's skin with the brush, consciously trying not to inhale his scent. "You shaved," I say casually when I come to his jawline. The tiny red spots on his jaw tell me it's very fresh and I have to resist the urge to feel the smoothness with my fingers.

"I did," he says stiffly.

I wipe a mascara brush and ask him to look up at the bottle in my hand and instead he looks straight into my eyes, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth. It's almost impossible not to be distracted by his eyes, the way they flick from one of mine to the other with an intensity that makes me feel like he's reading every thought in my mind. If there is a god, please make him stay away from the dirty ones. Please.

I clear my throat and he finally averts his eyes, looking down at his hands fidgeting in his lap.

"Becca, are you alright? Is everything ok?"

I'm a little taken aback by the question, and I wonder if he really did see straight into my soul just now.

"Of course. Why?"

"Your eyes are red."

"It's nothing, really. A bit tired I suppose."

He looks sideways in mild disbelief but remains quiet.

I pick up my phone with the intention of using the light meter and Tom shifts around on the stool.

"I was forgetting you do this all the time. Poser." He's automatically assumed the perfect portrait pose, which somehow manages to look natural and be ridiculously uncomfortable at the same time. He laughs quietly and looks down at his hands again.

A message is waiting on the lock screen of my phone, and although I have no intention of reading it right now my fingers have taken over and I open it.

I'm beginning to think you don't want this to work out, Becca. We should be able to discuss this and you should have talked to me before you agreed to it. Call me, I'm up.