Tom Holland, The man behind the mask

6. Too much to drink

There was a house party about three blocks away from (Y/F/N)'s house and we was invited to go, well, (Y/F/N) was, i was just tagging along.
I felt so nervous as we walked in - wondering if ... hoping ... that Tom was going to be here.
He wasn't.
It wasn't much of a party either. Rubbish music. Not that many people.
Some boy whisked (Y/F/N) off almost as soon as we arrived.
Harrison didn't seem to know if Tom was coming or not. I drank a couple of beers too fast, out of nerves. Then, with no sign of Tom in the house and everyone else ignoring me, i drank another one out of boredom.
I'd just extricated myself from a long and tedious conversation with a red-haired boy when Tom finally turned up. It was almost eleven o'clock. I looked up he was there, standing in the living room doorway. He looked tired, but gorgeous.
I held my breath as he gazed round the room.
Notice me.
But his eyes skittered past me, as if he hadn't seen me. He looked down at the floor and shoved his hands in his pockets.
I went over to Harrison.
"Hey, Harrison", I said lightly.
"Tom's here," I said.
Harrison showed absolutely no interest in this bit of information.
"Oh." He turned back to the girl he was with.
"How come he's so late?" I persisted.
This time Harrison didn't even turn around. "Just finished work, i expect." He leaned closer to the girl and smiled down at her.
Work? At 11pm?
I stared across the room at him for a minute longer, then, emboldened by my three beers, i decided to go talk to him. I set off the carpet, but before i got halfway he caught my eye. I could see from his expression that he knew i was coming to speak to him. He turned away and vanished from the doorway.
I stopped, stock-still, in the middle of the carpet. It felt like a slap in the face. Why had he done that? Didn't he want to talk to me? Feeling utterly humiliated, i retraced my steps across the living room.
I wandered over to the kitchen where the music was louder and four boys were boasting loudly to each other about how much they'd drunk the night before.
I sidled across the counter and helped myself to an open bottle. I didn't notice what was inside it - something pink and sweet. It tasted disgusting, but i didn't care. As i went back to the living room, tears welled up in my eyes. I took a few swigs from the bottle, then sank into the only available seat - at one end of a large, soft sofa. The bot at the other end squished up next to me.
"Hi there," he slurred beerily.
I got up and took another swig from my bottle. Then several more. The bottle was almost empty now. A few hot, fat tears trickled down my face.
What a rubbish party. Boys were all over (Y/F/N). And me as unloved and unloveable as ever. Another boy wandered over to me and offered me one of those premixed rum and juice drinks. I took the bottle, twisted off the cap and drained it fast. The boy started talking to me about some band i had never heard of. God. Why were boys so boring?
After about fifteen minutes, i was feeling sick as well as bored. Making some excuse about needing a pee, i staggered out into the hall. Maybe some water on my face would help. I stumbled up the stairs in search of a bathroom.
I was swaying a little as i walked. About halfway up, i missed my footing and lurched over, onto the stair rail. A hand pressed into my back, steadying me.
"Doesn't your boyfriend mind you coming to parties and getting drunk?" Said a familiar and very sarcastic voice.
I spun round, nearly losing my footing again.
Tom was on the step beneath me, which put heads at the same level. I stared at him, part of me soaking in the brown glow of his eyes, part of me furious at the contempt which dripped from his voice.
"I'm not drunk," I slurred angrily. "And I don't have a boyfriend."
I turned away and strode haughtily up the rest of the stairs, when i reached the top i let go of the hand rail, the room began to spin around me. My stomach clenched in a spasm of pain.
I put out my arm to steady myself. Tom was still there. He caught my arm. "Are you okay?" He said, more gently.
I swallowed. "I'm fine," I snapped. My stomach heaved. Oh god. "Except...except i think i might be sick."
Tom pushed open the door in front of us. The bathroom. I stumbled inside, shoved at the door behind me and sank down to my knees in front of the toilet. A few seconds later and my stomach was heaving itself up into the toilet bowl.
A hand stroked my hair.
"AHH!" I jumped up, spinning around. Tom was straightening up behind me. The bathroom door was shut behind him. Oh my god. He was in the room. He'd been in the room when ... I stared up at him, speechless. I couldn't believe he'd just seen me puke my guts up. I turned quickly, put the toilet seat down and flushed.
"Better?" Tom took a sip from his plastic cup. The liquid inside looked clear.
"You oughta be careful." I forced a grin, trying to cover up just how hideously embarrassed i was.
"Neat vodka? You'll be next."
He looked at me without smiling, then held out the cup. "It's water," he said. "I don't drink alcohol."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Have it," he said. "I was going anyway."
I took the cup from his hand and took a tiny sip. Water. It soothed the burning in my throat. I wanted to rinse my mouth probably. But there was no way, not with Tom watching.
Instead i wiped my mouth with the back of my shaking hand, sank down on the floor and leaned against the side of the bath. At least i didn't feel sic anymore.
Tom towered over me. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
He hesitated.
"Why don't you drink alcohol?" I said, fixated by this latest intriguing revelation.
"Oh i do, just not whilst I'm filming, i have to be up early tomorrow, so it's probably not a good idea for me to drink."
He quickly changed the subject.
"Er... did you mean... what you said, about not having a boyfriend?"
I frowned at him. My head felt clearer than it had, but not totally clear. He'd already asked me this, why was he asking again?
"Yes." I said.
Tom stared at me. "It's just, when i saw you, when we had coffee... the way you rushed off after getting that phone call. I could see you didn't want whoever it was to know you were with me." He shrugged. " I kind of assumed it was a guy."
I frowned. "It was (Y/F/N)" i said. "I was late meeting her. That was all."
That wasn't quite all, of course. I hadn't wanted her to see me with Tom, but ... Another thought occurred to me.
"Why didn't you ask me if i was going out with anymore?" I said.
Tom shrugged. He looked away.
He didn't ask because he likes you, you idiot. And he didn't want to risk being humiliated in case you said you were with someone else.
I chuckled drunkenly, suddenly feeling deliriously happy.
He likes me. He likes me.
Except. Except... My befuddled brain inched its was to the horrible truth of the situation. I was drunk and he was sober. Worse. Oh god. Worse of possible worses. He'd just seen me be sick. Which must be the biggest turn-off known to mankind. Tom stood up and held out his hand. "You should get some air," he said.
I took his hand as we crossed the landing and went down the stairs. Outside the front of the house the street was quiet, just a steady thump from the music inside.
As we walked a little way down the pavement I shivered. Damn, I'd left my jacket inside. The cold air was sobering me up fast, though. I remembered how I'd cried before I'd puked and wished I'd looked in the mirror before I'd left the room.
Tom was looking at me again. I turned my face away and licked at the finger on my free hand. I ran it desperately under my eyes, hoping I'd pick up any smudged traces of eyeliner and mascara.
Tom took my arm and pulled me round. I was really shivering now. It was freezing with just a little black top on. He put his hands on my arms and rubbed them up and down. His eyes were a dark brown now and soft in the street light above our heads.
A car whooshed past us.
Tom looked over my head into the night.
"Are you okay?" He said.
I nodded. "Tom?"
He raised his eyebrows.
"I... i like talking to you." I closed my eyes. How pathetic did i sound? Shut up (Y/N). Shut up until you're sober.
I let his fingers draw gently down the side of my face.
I shivered, my skin tingling where he'd touched me. I looked up. He was staring at me, his expression somehow tender and exasperated all at once.
My heart was pounding, my legs threatening to fall away from beneath me. Kiss me, kiss me.
He leaned forward as if he was going to kiss me then he whispered, "I like you too (Y/N), but I'm not kissing you while you're drunk and your mouth tastes like puke."
He drew back and grinned. A confident and sexy grin. "I'll walk you home, though." He said. "If you'd like?"
I blinked. Oh yes, oh yes. I would like.
Then I remembered.
"I can't," I stammered. "I'm supposed to be going back with (Y/F/N)"
Tom stared at me, his eyes boring right into me.
"I can't stay here any longer," he said." I have to be on set really early tomorrow morning. Promise me you'll go straight inside and find Harrison" Tom said. "Tell Harrison i want him to take you home, to make sure you get back all right. And promise me you'll go home soon. Okay?"
I nodded. He pointed towards the house. "I'll watch you back inside, go on."
I walked carefully back along the pavement, feeling ridiculously happy. At the door i turned. Tom was still watching me. He raised his hand in a wave, then spun around, shoved his hands in his pockets and vanished into the night.