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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"I'm Spider-Man," Tom said again with less certainty. His hands clasped the leash in front of him and his eyes watched you, waiting for a reaction.
"Bullshit," you said narrowing your eyes, expecting him to break the ruse. When he didn't, you continued, "They cast that Billy Elliot kid as Spidey."
He gave a half smile and nodded in agreement, "They did indeed."
You cocked your head at him. Wait a minute.
"You're the kid from Billy Elliot?" you asked incredulously.
"Don't fucking call me 'kid'," he said and winked at you, dropping the leash. He walked over to the corner by the window, and stood for a beat in first position. Then he leapt across the floor and began spinning in a pirouette a la seconde.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," you muttered in awe, as he continued to spin in front of you. Your brain was slowly processing: Tom = Billy Elliot = Spider-Man? But that's just...
"Unbelievable," you said aloud. Tom stopped, catching his breath, and walked over to you, hands raised in question.
"So...what do you think?" he asked.
What do you think?! How the hell are you supposed to respond to that? Dude tells you he's Spider-Man than pulls a full-on Baryshnikov in your living room. Like, Oh you're Spider-Man? That's cool, so you wanna Netflix and chill? Give a girl a minute for fuck's sake.
"I think....you need to go. I have to go to work," you said slowly and carefully because, you honestly had no idea what to think.
Tom licked his lips and bent down, picking up Tessa's leash.
"Right," he said fumbling with her collar. His ears were turning red, and you could tell he was hurt, but you just stood there, stupidly. You are such an asshole, Y/N.
Tom stood up and gave you a forced smile before turning towards the door. Stop him, you told yourself.
"Tom...."
Don't let him leave like this, you insisted.
He turned around, hand on the door knob and raised his eyebrows to you. Quick, think of something, you panicked.
"Oi! Dancing boy!" you blurted out.
"What?" he laughed and his face lit up and it was gorgeous and suddenly you knew you were an idiot for ever thinking of letting this boy go.
"Can you teach me those moves some time?" you sauntered over to him and stood nose to nose, running a finger down his torso.
"Well, it will take lots and lots of practice," he stated seriously, "We may have to be up all sorts of hours of the night...practicing, that is."
"Oh indeed," you agreed, nodding and putting a finger on your chin, contemplating, "and we should probably start soon, you know, because there's SO much to go over."
"Right, right," he nodded, "Like tonight."
You placed your palm on his chest and kissed him zestfully. You couldn't deny the way he made you feel. There was something straight from the start, wasn't there? Something brought you to this moment, right here, hand on heart, lips on his. It was serendipitous and who were you to argue with the Universe?
You pulled away and gave him a small smack on the butt.
