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

Chapter 9

That night, at the hotel, I take a long shower and settle into bed, but despite how exhausted I feel, I can't sleep. Maybe it's how emotionally drained today made me feel, or maybe it has something to do with the impromptu kiss with Tom, but either way, I decide to turn on the tv and catch up on some of my shows. Being a high end hotel, the tv is equipt to log into Hulu, so I decide to watch A Handmaid's Tale. I lie there, staring at the tv for a bit, when I hear a knock at my door.

I look at the clock. It's past midnight. I pad my way to the door and look out the peephole. Tom. I open the door. 'What are you doing here?" I ask.

I couldn't sleep, and I heard the tv from my room, so I figured you couldn't either. We might as well not sleep together."

I look at him for a moment, waiting for him to realize the words he just strung together.

"I mean... You know what I mean." He enters the room and crawls up onto my bed.

"Sure. Make yourself at home." I say sarcastically, and he sticks his tongue out at me.

"What are you watching?" He asks.

"A Handmaid's Tale. We can turn it off and watch something else if you want." I say.

"No, no. It's fine. I'm intruding on you. We can watch what you want to watch."

"This episode is almost over anyways." I tell him.

I settle back onto the bed and we both sit and watch the show. Tom occasionally asks questions, or asks about certain plot points, or the world the characters live in, and I explain everything to him.

"Wait, so who is that?"

"That's Fred. He's kind of like June's master slash slave owner."

"Who's June?"

"Sorry, I meant Ofred."

"But she likes him?"

"Not exactly."

"Who's that?"

"That's Nick. He's the one we want her to be with."

"Oh. I see."

We sit in awkward silence during some of the racier scenes, occasionally giving each other sideward glances, and laughing.

We both sit with our heads against the headrest, on top of all the blankets. I glance down at our hands and realize they are mere centimeters apart. The slightest adjustment would have us touching. I feel my face beat up, and try to focus on the show.

"This show is pretty fucked up, don't you think?" Tom asks.

"Yeah. But I kinda like it." I say.

A scene with extreme graphic violence happens and Tom and I both recoil, me cringing away, him covering his mouth with a fist.

"Holy shit! That guy just got smashed by that fucking car." He exclaims.

I laugh, a bit shaken by the whole scene, before settling back into a more relaxed position, and Tom does the same. Only this time... our hands are touching. Barely, but it's enough to make my body feel like it's on fire. Neither one of us pulls away. We both stay there with our hands barely touching.

Maybe he doesn't even realize, or think that this is a big deal. Maybe this is totally normal to him. I pull my hand away and feign having an itchy nose, before resting my hand on my chest for bit. Enough time for my heart rate to slow, and for the blush in my cheeks to dissipate.

It comes to the last scene, which just happens to be a very intense and passionate sex scene. I groan awkwardly and roll over on my side, facing away from Tom.

"Hey, you're missing this. This is very important to the progression of the plot." He jokes.

"It's just so awkward. It's like watching porn with my parents."

"Except, not at all?"

"Shut up, it's just weird!" I squeal.

"Don't be such a prude, you prude." He teases me.

I roll my eyes and slowly roll back over to watch the show. I put my hand back by my side, and his hand is there again. Only this time, even closer. Our pinkies are practically overlapping.

This is normal. Friends sit like this all the time. This isn't weird or romantic at all-

Tom links our pinkies together. I don't move. I don't look at him. I just watch the rest of this really hot love scene with our fingers wrapped around one another.

Maybe he's doing this in a completely platonic way. If he was Annie, this would be normal. This is normal. Just because he's a guy doesn't automatically make this romantic.

As the credits start to roll, I stand up abruptly, breaking the contact between us.

"It's late. We should probably get some sleep." I say.

"You're right." He yawns. "I guess I should get going then, huh?"

And maybe it was just how emotionally drained I felt. Maybe it was that longing in my heart that dreaded sleeping by itself. Maybe it was the way he looked in his grey T-shirt and pajama bottoms but something inside me compelled me to say:

"Yeah... or you could stay here. If you wanted."

I don't look at him. I try to seem as casual as possible, but I feel his eyes on me, waiting to say something else.

"Like a sleepover." I add, finally meeting his eye.

"A sleepover?" He questions.

"Yeah. Why not, right? You're already here, I mean..." I trail off.

"I mean... if you insist." He settles back on the bed, this time tucking himself under the covers. I shuffle to the lights and shut them off.

A sleepover. That's it. Just imagine he's Annie. Totally platonic.

I nestle into the blankets and turn on my side, facing the center of the bed. I hear Tom shifting in the darkness, and by the sound of his breathing being closer now, I know he did the same.

"Goodnight." He whispers.

"Goodnight." I reply.

I'd just closed my eyes when I feel him wrap his hand around mine, intertwining our fingers. I can feel his hot breath on my knuckles. Every part of my body feels like a live wire.

Yep. Totally platonic.