Tom Holland, The man behind the mask

15. "I love you"

The taxi Harrison had ordered came. Him and his girlfriend, Molly, put me and (Y/F/N) inside with Tom. He looked slightly panic-stricken at the prospect - we were still crying our eyes out. But there wasn't enough room for both Harrison and Molly to travel with us, so they stayed behind.
Inside the taxi, Tom put his arm around me. I peered round him. (Y/F/N) was curled up against the far door still weeping quietly.
"D'you think she's alright?" Tom whispered.
"(Y/F/N)?" I said softly. "Are you okay?"
(Y/F/N) nodded, but she didn't turn round and she didn't stop crying.
I glanced at Tom. He was still watching (Y/F/N), looking concerned.
I shrugged. "You try," I said, pulling away from him.
Tom frowned at me, but he leaned over and put his hand on (Y/F/N)'s shoulder. "(Y/F/N)?"
She whipped round, her face glistening with tears, and flung herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing even louder than she had before.
Tom stared down at her in horror, then did the only thing he could do. He put his arm gently round her.
"Hey, (Y/F/N)," he said soothingly. "You're safe. It's okay. You're safe - it's all over."
I glared at them, a mean silver of jealousy lodged itself in my head. I desperately wanted Tom to push her off and turn back to me. It was irrational and unkind - but I couldn't help it. I'd pictured them holding each other so often, in their roles as Peter and Liz, hating the images of them together that forced themselves into my head. And now here they both were, halfway to a full-on kissing session.
And it was all my fault for pushing Tom towards her.
Knowing that made me feel even angrier. (Y/F/N) didn't stop crying all the way home, and she didn't let go of Tom either. He turned several times to look at me apologetically. A couple of times he tried to reach out to hold me too. But i shrank away. No way was he getting his hands on both of us.
I said as little as possible when we reached (Y/F/N)'s house. We helped her in through to front door and made sure she was safe and sound before leaving.
By the time we got inside the next taxi I was all knotted up, seething with a rage that I didn't understand. I mean, I wasn't in danger any more. The whole episode was over wasn't it?
Tom told the driver my address, then slumped back on the back seat with a deep sigh.
"Man, that was heavy," he groaned. He turned to me and scooped his arms round my shoulders. I sat rigidly, while he dropped his head and kissed the back of my neck.
"(Y/N)?" He straightened up, pulling me closer.
"What's wrong?"
I don't know. Would have been the honest answer. I felt like a pressure cooker, all these big emotions swirling around in my head and no way of letting them go. But I couldn't think how to put that into words, so I said nothing.
Tom sat back with a sigh. "I hope (Y/F/N)'s alright " he said. "Those pigs really freaked her out". (Y/F/N). Again. My feelings of anger solidified around that one point and the silver of jealousy that slid inside me earlier exploded into a thousand shards, each one full of hate.
"Getting in practice for in front of the cameras?" I said sarcastically.
"What?" Tom stared at me.
I could see in his face he had no idea what I was talking about. Or else he was acting. It suddenly struck me that he was such a brilliant actor I would never know if he was lying. Ever.
"Enjoy getting close to (Y/F/N) on the way home?" I hissed.
I knew that was totally unfair, but I couldn't help myself.
Tom made a face at me. "Don't be stupid, (Y/N)." He frowned, as if waiting for me to say sorry and snuggle up to him.
It was what I wanted to do. But the angry, jealous, hateful knives inside me wouldn't let me. I stared back at him, waiting for him to say that it was me he wanted. That he'd rather eat dog poo than kiss (Y/F/N).
But he didn't.
"Look, (Y/N)," he sighed. "I'm sure you're feeling like crap, but frankly so am I. Okay? So why don't you cut out this rubbish about (Y/F/N) and tell me what's really wrong?" His voice was calm, but I recognised the steely anger underneath.
It infuriated me.
"You don't let me in," I said. "I mean you let me in so far and then no further."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Your past. Your mum and dad. I've never been to your house, Tom"
The words were spitting out of me. "I want you to trust me."
Tom rolled his eyes. "Give it a chance (Y/N)" he said. "We've only been going out a few weeks."
"So what?" I was shouting now.
He swung away from me across the back seat of the cab.
Tears welled in my eyes. I glanced up at the taxi driver. He was studiously ignoring us, staring steadily out of the front window.
A great pit of fear and loneliness opened up in my stomach. I had a flashback to that moment of utter panic earlier, when the fair headed guy had dragged me across the alleyway, for two or three seconds I'd been so scared. And then Tom saved me. And been hurt doing it. And here i was yelling at him. I wriggled across the back seat and put my hand on his arm. "Tom?"
He was stiff, unyielding. I could feel the anger still pulsing through him.
"I'm sorry" i said. "I know I'm being weird. It's just i... i was so frightened earlier. I thought those guys were really going to ... to attack us"
It wasn't the full reason I'd got jealous and pushed Tom to open up, but i was pretty sure it was the only explanation of my behaviour that would get us to hug in the next two minuets.
With a sigh Tom turned around.
"I just can't handle a frigging tantrum right now, okay?" He mumbled.
I looked up at his face. A bruise was developing around the cut on his lip where the guy in the alley-way had punched him. It felt like that moment had happened a million years ago. I stroked the red, swollen skin around the cut.
The taxi stopped at some traffic lights. A street lamp outside cast a pale glow over Tom's face. His eyes were so full of feeling - a great mixture of longing and fear and hurt and anger.
"I don't want to go home," i whispered. "Please can i come back to your house?"
Tom stared at me for a long time. And then his eyes clouded over.
"I've never taken anyone home," he said slowly. "Anyone. Ever."
I caught my breath. My heart pounded.
"I'm not anyone." I hesitated, and the words unplanned and unprompted - bled out of me.
"I love you"
There was a long pause, then he bent his head closer and whispered in my ear.
"I'm sorry."
He sat back not touching me.
We went the rest of the journey in silence. I felt totally numb. I'd expected that once i said i loved him, he would automatically say it back. I'd imagined that once i asked, straight out, for him to trust me and talk to me and take me home, he would. That the way we felt about each other - the strength of it, the passion of it - would burn everything else away.
By the time we reached my house, i had to face that I'd been wrong. I'd misunderstood how he felt. Tom was just an intelligent boy with a head full of hormones that made him good at kissing.
There was nothing beyond that. Or nothing he wanted to share with me, anyway.
He wasn't in love with me.
He wasn't my Peter Parker.

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Hey guys, sorry I've been gone for like 6 months but I decided i should come back and at least finish this book, soooo here i am!😂
-L✨