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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"How would you say, 'Smoosh it down real flat'?" Tom looked up from his script, taking a sip of his beer. You both worked up an appetite from your Spider play and presently sat, chowing down on some Indian food at the joint up the street.
"Smoosh it down real flat," you said, stuffing some naan in your mouth. He watched your lips closely as you spoke.
"Smoosh it down," he said slowly.
"Smoosh, like 'push'," you said.
He nodded and wrote some note on his script.
"Don't you pay someone to do this with you?" you laughed, wiping your mouth with your napkin.
"Yeah but you're actually from New York and look better naked," he smiled, giving you a wink.
"I'm not even going ask how you know what you're dialect coach looks like naked," you said sarcastically.
Tom had his nose in his script all throughout lunch, but you didn't mind. You found the whole process really interesting, actually. But mostly, you wanted to see the script for yourself.
Earlier in bed, when he first showed you, you pestered him to let you take a peek. He refused. Then you snatched it from him, laughing evilly, and he pinned you down to wrestle it away from you. He got it back, but not before you stole a kiss.
Now, you sipped your chai, full of vindaloo and happiness, with the most remarkable man seated across from you. All in, Y/N.
"Hey Tom," you said, setting down your cup.
"Hm?" he replied, not looking up from his script.
You took a deep breath, wetting your lips.
"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" Your hand gripped your wadded up napkin in your lap. You were suddenly overcome by nerves. This is ridiculous, you thought. He's had his head in between your legs and you're scared to ask him to be your boyfriend?
Tom peered over the script at you, eyebrows raised.
You raised yours in return and smiled. This is what he wanted, right?
He put the script down beside his plate and folded his hands.
"What was that?" he asked. You had his full attention now.
"You're going to make me say it again?" you chuckled. His serious demeanor didn't make you feel any better about the whole thing.
"I thought you didn't like labels and commitment, Y/N," he said, tilting his head and crossing his arms.
You frowned, "That's not fair. I never said I didn't like commitment. I just...wasn't ready before." You smiled again, hoping he would follow.
But he didn't. He just looked at you with those deep brown eyes of his.
This was a mistake, you thought. You expected him to be happy. You thought he wanted this too.
"It's what you want, right?" you asked slowly and uncertainly.
Tom uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling.
What was going on?! This was not how it was supposed play out.
"Y/N, I don't think that's a good idea," he looked at you quickly, then averted his eyes back to his script.
