Tom Holland, The man behind the mask

11. Together

I messaged (Y/F/N), then, later, we went out. We ended up in a little pasta restaurant, eating spaghetti in tomato sauce and talking about boys.
I told her it had been good with Tom, but that i was being sensible, emotionally... seeing how things went... it was a total lie, of course, but I couldn't tell her the truth. It was somehow too precious, too private.
I didn't say much after that, (Y/F/N) did enough talking for the both of you, delightedly telling us everywhere her and her new boyfriend have done it. How could she be so matter-of-fact about it? She made it sound like a list of places she'd cleaned her teeth.
There was no way i could tell her how it had felt with Tom in the park. How scarily powerful my feeling had been. How I'd felt when he'd kissed and touched me - like my heart was full to bursting and my breath was being sucked out of me and my head was exploding with it.

Tom and I met up as arranged the next day. It was warm again and we sat out on the open grass in the park. Tom had brought his script with him so he could continue to learn his lines. I just sat there, leaning against Tom's legs, enjoying the sun on my face.
I still couldn't believe how easy it was just to be with him. It was like we'd known each other for ages. Like we didn't need to speak at all.
Tom read fast, his lips moving silently as he read over his lines. After ten minutes or so he seemed to be concentrating so hard I wasn't sure if he was even aware of my presence.
Every thought in my head, every sense in my body was turned to him, i turned around, gazing at his face.
He looked up straight away. "Sorry, I'll put it down now." He said realising I wasn't doing anything.
We sat there and chatted for awhile, i asked him about his previous girlfriends.
Tom shrugged a bit, then admitted to a few meaningless (he said) one-nighters, and two girls he'd gone out with for a couple of months each. He said he couldn't even remember their names.

Tom and I met up for a few snatched hours most days over the next two weeks. We talked more - about the movie and other things that Tom was doing currently. We walked and talked mainly about Spider-Man. One day i questioned him carefully about (Y/F/N) and what it was like acting with her.
"It's okay." He shrugged. "I mean she's all right as Liz, but she's a bit..." He paused, flicking an imaginary strand of hair off his shoulder and pouting at me in a wickedly accurate imitation of (Y/F/N).
"I dunno, sometimes i think she's more concerned about looking good than anything else."
I grinned, then felt disloyal.
"(Y/F/N)'s okay," I protested. "I know she comes across as a bit superficial, but she's a good friend."
Tom nodded.
"And she does look good," i said. "She's really pretty."
"Well, thats true," Tom acknowledged.
There was a short pause. A thin thread of jealousy twisted a knot in my heart. Tom thought (Y/F/N) was really pretty.
Well, of course he did. Who wouldn't?
It didn't mean he liked her more then me.
Tom put his arms round me. "Never mind (Y/F/N). Doing Spider-Man's not real. It's not like with you."
And he drew me into this long kiss. Our kissed were - unbelievably - getting better and better. He didn't try to touch me that much, not inside my jeans, anyway, not the whole time we were meeting in the park. But he still ran his hands all over me as we kissed. I shivered wherever he touched me.
He laughed at that, told me how sexy i was.
But it wasn't me who was sexy.
It was him.
It was us. Together.