What You Don't Know - A Tom Holland Fic (WIP)

Chapter 5

"Fifteen tabloids. Over 30 articles posted online. You were trending on twitter. THERE WAS A FUCKING BUZZFEED ARTICLE WRITTEN ABOUT YOU, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME." Dave Rittle, the executive producer of Kissing Fireworks slams his hand on his desk, causing Tom and I to flinch. Both of our managers stand against the wall behind us, not saying anything. "What? Is this, amateur hour?"

I'm scared to move so I sit as still as possible. As if not moving will make me disappear. My throat burns from the tears I know are coming.

"Mr. Rittle, please don't blame Cordelia. It was my idea."

"Save it Holland." He snaps. "I don't give a damn whose idea it was or wasn't. You BOTH had a duty to this studio, to this film, to conduct yourselves appropriately. To keep low profiles. RUNNING FROM THE PAPARAZZI?"

"I- I'm so sorry, Mr. Rittle." I say my voice shaking.
Dave just holds up his hand, a vein bulging on his neck.

"What? Was it too much to just ask one of the countless PA's running around here to get your fucking coffee for you? Just- Just tell me what was running through your heads. Did you think no one would spot you? Tom, every girl between the ages of 13 and 21 knows who you are! Did you think about that?"

"I-" Tom begins.

"Collett. I expected more out of you. I expected you to be more mature. But here we are."

"Mr. Rittle, I am so sorry. It will never happen again. I promise." My voice is strained and a tear slides down my cheek. I see Tom turn his head towards me out of the corner of my eye, but I don't look at him.
"Mr. Rittle," Mandy, my manager, speaks up. "I can assure you, my client is a very mature actress. She had a single lapse in judgement, but I promise you, there will be no more slip ups, right Delia?"

I nod vigorously.

"Dave, you know Tom," the other manager speaks up. "He's a good kid. He would never do anything if he thought it would ruin a project." Dave raises his eyebrows. "I mean... he's working on not spoiling movie plots, but you know what I mean."

Dave sighs and stumps down in his chair. "This is your only warning. One more scene like this and there will be consequences. You understand?" Tom and I nod. "Okay. Get out of my office."

We follow our managers out into the hallway. Tom and his go ahead, while Mandy and I hang back. She squeezes my shoulder and smiles at me.

"Look at you. You really are a celebrity now. Being hunted by the paparazzi and all."

"Mandy, it's not funny." I say, tears still threatening to spill. "That was horrible. I feel horrible."

"Don't beat yourself up to much. Everyone makes mistakes, okay?"

I nod.

"Call me if you need anything." She moves to leave. "Stay out of trouble now!"

I roll my eyes as she walks out the door. I hang back for a few seconds before making my way to the exit.

"D! Wait up!" Tom jogs up to me. "You okay?"

I just give him a dirty look.

"Delia?"

"Seriously? You seriously want to talk to me right now?" I snap.

"Woah. D, I'm sorry. I didn't know that would happen."

"Tom, I don't feel like talking about this right now."

"Delia, it was all my fault. You can blame me all you want. Just... please don't be mad at me."

I scoff at him. "You expect me not to be mad? You just expect me to forgive you?"

"Well-"

"Jesus Christ, of course you do! You just expect me to fall at your feet, to forgive you JUST. LIKE. THAT."

Tom looks taken aback, at a loss for words. "D-"

"Tom, I was this close to an Oscar nomination last year!" I hold my fingers up, pinching them till they barely touch. "I am not some teen star, with wild whims, or whatever the fuck." Tears begin spilling down my cheeks now. "What will people think of me now. That it was a fluke? Or worse, that I've changed? That fame has gotten to my head and I'm no longer the 'down to earth girl from the suburbs of Chicago' that everyone said I was. Do you know how embarrassing that is?"

"Cordelia, I understand."

"NO. YOU DON'T. Tom you're America's sweetheart, AND YOU WEREN'T EVEN BORN IN AMERICA! You could probably kill someone or steal the fucking Declaration of Independence, and you'd still have girls swooning at your feet."

"Is that what you think of me? That I'm just some ignorant fuck boy? You don't think I feel pressure? You don't think I'm scared of the world's opinion of me? Cordelia, I am terrified of their opinions."

"Forget it." I try to push past him.

"No!" He stops me. Now he's angry. I don't think I've ever seen him angry. Acting or otherwise. "Cordelia, the world doesn't revolve around you. You've been in this business for, what? Two years? Less? Don't you dare begin to assume what I've been through and what I feel. You don't know anything about me."

It's my turn to be speechless. I just stand there, gaping at him.

He takes a deep breath before, "You know what? I'll see you tomorrow." And he turns and leaves.

I'm left breathless. I can hear my blood rushing in my ears. I run to the nearest bathroom, slam the stall door, lock it, and collapse onto the toilet seat, sobbing into my hands.

Ruined. It was all ruined. Tom hates me and we are never going to be friends again. My heart hurts, like I had just been broken up with. I have no idea how I'm going to face him for the rest of filming, let alone tomorrow.

"Shit." I whisper under my breath. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we get on a plane and fly across the country. I have to spend however many hours locked in a plane with him.

"Shit." I whisper again.