So maybe your life is in shambles and you run away to London to get your head straight. Sure, you don't really have a plan but the Universe does, and before you know it, some kid from Kingston has completely turned your world upside and your body i...
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The brisk air sobered you up enough to manage the long walk home. It was May but the chilly night made summer seem so far away. You clung to Tom's arm, partly to steady yourself, but mainly because you couldn't keep your hands off of him. His body felt like marble beneath his clothes and you wondered if that arm would be strong enough carry you to your bed. You giggled at the thought. So naughty, Y/N. What's gotten into you? Drink and a certain young man. A far too young man.
"What's so funny?" he asked softly.
"How old are you?"
He was silent for a few seconds, "What does that matter?" he replied.
"Well, I did have my tongue down your throat, so yeah, it kinda matters to me."
He stopped and looked at you seriously, "And does it change things? My age?" Why did he have to get serious? You were having fun. Maybe you shouldn't have asked. Maybe it shouldn't matter. Maybe you wanted more than just some tryst and that scared the hell out of you.
"It doesn't change that, back there, that," you motioned back to the bar, several blocks away by now, "that was amazing."
He smiled a little and you could have sworn he was blushing. How fucking adorable.
He took a deep breath and exhaled, "I'll be 20 next month."
You kinda blinked because you had to do the math and well, whiskey. Twenty next month minus a month means 19. He was 19! You weren't expecting anything with a "teen" after it.
You raised your eyebrows a bit stunned, "Nineteen?!"
"I'll be 20 next month," he said again.
"You're 19." Maybe if you said it enough times, it would sink in.
"Yes, Y/N, I'm 19. Does it really matter?"
You thought for a second, then leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back, eagerly, but you only needed a taste. You broke the kiss, looking into his eyes.
"Ask me again," you said.
Tom tilted his head and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. He kept his eyes on yours and you were completely transfixed. Those eyes weren't the eyes of a 19 year-old. They were commanding and wise with a glint of mischief. He held your gaze while he spoke.
"Does it really matter?" he asked for the third time. His brow slightly crinkled.
"Not tonight," you smiled slowly.
You both continued the trek home and soon your building came into view. You stopped at the steps and fumbled in your purse for the keys, then dropped all of it on the on the ground in front of you. Tom swooped in a picked your purse up and dangled the keys in front of you.
"You are feeling sleeeeepy," he said in some god awful Dracula voice, "When I snap my fingers, you will think I'm the most amazing and age appropriate man for you."
You snatched the keys out of his hand, "Age appropriate? Really? You're such a dork."
He shrugged, "Yes, but I'm a cute dork." He flashed a cheeky smile.
"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, sport," you replied sarcastically. But he was a cute dork, wasn't he? Too damn cute for his own good...actually for your own good because now the two of you were standing at your front door and well, your move, Y/N.
"Thanks for walking me home." You suddenly felt extremely awkward. The two of you shared some intense moments there, and well, there was some expectation now. You wrestled with inviting him in or not. If his moves at the bar were any indication, it would be a fun night. But fun nights are usually followed by unanswered texts in the morning. This was not your first rodeo.
"Get some sleep," Tom said, brushing a rogue strand of hair out of your eyes.
Wow, you thought, Mr. Pushy Pants didn't even try to get an invite. Could he be so gentlemanly? Is that even a thing anymore?
You bit your lip, "If I asked you to come in, would you?"
"Oh yes," he chuckled, "so maybe it's best you not."
You kissed him one last time, then softly pushed him away when he tightened his grip on you.
"You gotta go, Tiger," you giggled stepping away from him.
"Right, right," he nodded, wiping his wet mouth with the back of his hand.
"Wait!" He jogged up the steps to you."Give me your phone."
You fished it out from your purse and handed it over. He tapped a few times on the screen and his pocket started buzzing. He pulled his own phone out and handed yours back to you, sprinting back down the steps.
"Hello, this is the devilishly handsome Tom Holland speaking," he said into his phone, putting on some dapper Bondesque accent.
You held your phone up to your ear and said, " Your zipper's down."
Tom looked down quickly.
"Made you look," you said.
"Ah ha! You think you're clever but now I've got your number," he did a pronounced bow, " And now for my next trick, I will disappear." He hung up the call and spun around, heading in the other direction.
"Dork!" you called after him.
"Cute dork!" he answered back then disappeared into the shadows.
