Wrong Number (A Tom Hiddleston Fan Fic)

Three: Apology and Request

Tom's POV

I meet Michael for lunch the next day.

"How ya doin' mate?" He asks as I sit at his table located at the back of a small bistro.

"Ugh! How much did you let me drink last night?" I ask, scrubbing my scalp not for the first time this day. If I'm honest, I only showered an hour ago before meeting Michael after receiving his text.

"More than I probably should have. To be honest, James encouraged me to keep silent," Michael says before flagging down the waiter to take our orders.

I grumble "bloody Scot" under my breath before the waiter arrives. We order, then Michael sits back, nursing the beer he's holding.

"So how is our girlfriend today?" He asks with his trademark cheeky grin.

"What girlfriend?" I ask.

"You know... your mystery text friend?"

"Oh... I've no idea. I haven't texted her since last night at the pub," I say, but I feel a niggling thought at the back of my brain. "At least, well... I don't think I have," I add as I pull out my phone to look at my text history. I was in such a rush once I received Michael's text that I didn't bother to check anything else. I groan at what I see.

"Bloody hell," I say, causing Michael to chuckle.

"So you did text her," he says, smiling like an idiot.

"It would appear so," I say, putting my phone away.

*************

After lunch with Michael I walk into my house, intent on finding some aspirin. As I place my keys and phone on the kitchen table, I think about the previous night's exploits in drunk texting.

"Might as well get it over with, mate," I say to myself.

* Hello. I just wanted to apologize for my uncalled for texts early this morning. It was completely unacceptable, and I am truly sorry for interrupting your sleep. Anyway, I hope you are having a good day at work.

I think of adding some emoji for hitting send, but I can't think of any appropriate ones, except maybe "I am a 💩 👨." Still. That could be misconstrued so I send the text without any addition.

*************

Other's POV

I'm on my lunch break when I hear my phone buzz. I put down the book I'm reading to look at the screen.

* Hello. I just wanted to apologize for my uncalled for texts early this morning. It was completely unacceptable, and I am truly sorry for interrupting your sleep. Anyway, I hope you are having a good day at work.

I smirk at my mystery texter's message, having calmed down from wanting to smack him for disturbing my sleep. Still, I decide to let him stew in his remorse before responding.

"Mr. Balfour is here about that old book," Jamie, one of my employees says, sticking his head through the curtain that separates the employee only area from the rest of the shop.

"I'll be right out," I say, putting away my book and phone.

"Mr. Balfour, you're here about that copy of The Tempest?" I ask, smiling at the customer.

"I am, my dear. And I can only hope it is in as good condition as you said," he says, smiling despite his steely demeanor.