Twelve Red Roses (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 32- Opera

There wasn't really anything I could do besides shake her hand and act friendly. With Tom watching over us like some sort of buzzard, I had to act like I was her immediate BFF.

"Yes, I'm Cassidy," I speak, a smile automatically forming on my lips. I was good at this. Pretending I was enjoying myself.

"Tom told me all about you on the ride here," Sophie explains, her blue eyes bright as she spoke. Anyone else may say they were the same color as Tom's, but I would refuse to believe such a thing. To anyone else, their eye color is just 'blue'. But to me, Tom's eyes are so much more than that. They contain a whole other universe inside of them, the color getting deeper and darker the more you stare and get lost in them.

My thoughts probably make no sense to most people, but maybe that's because they've never taken the time to just observe his deep blue orbs for as long as I have.

"He's told me a bit about you, too." I mentally cringe. Ooh. That sounds bad.

But Sophie doesn't let it bother her. "I want to thank you so much for letting me stay with you two," she continues. "Randy will never know I'm here."

Randy. Okay. So I suppose that's the man she's escaping from.

"What did Randy do, exactly?" I ask.

Sophie's smile suddenly disappears, and her expression looks a little hurt. Was that not a good question to ask..?

"I'm sorry," she speaks, he voice breaking slightly. "I'd just prefer not to talk about it immediately." Tears spring to her eyes suddenly, caused just by speaking of this Randy. A few tears escape her eyes, and I notice her mascara doesn't smear one bit. Whatever she uses, I'll take ten.

And that's when Tom steps in, because he'd comfort any crying girl. He puts his hands on her shoulders gently, taking a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. Why hasn't he ever offered me a handkerchief?

Well, a better question to ask would be, why does he carry one around in the first place? Does he come across crying women often?

As Sophie cries silently for a bit, Tom comforts her, and I stand there awkwardly. Then Tom turns to look at me, and his face reads something along the lines of: "Look what you've done" and "comfort her, you idiot".

Okay, so he'd probably never call me an idiot, but that's what I read from his expression. So I casually walk into the bathroom, grab a small box of tissues and come back, offering them to Sophie. Her crying isn't obnoxious or loud at all. If anything, some might consider it cute.

So, Randy. Odd name. I suppose he must have done something awfully terrible. Either that, or Sophie is just a really good fake-crier.

"I'm sorry," she says again, now drying her tears. "I think I just need a good night's sleep. I'll feel better in the morning."

"Come on," Tom gently speaks. "We'll walk you to your room. Won't we, Cassidy?"

Oh, yeah, volunteer me for everything. And use my real name while you're at it.

"Yeah," I answer.

Sophie's room is just four doors down from ours, and it's pretty obvious they dropped her bags off before they came to see me.

Sophie hugs Tom at her door, a very tight hug. And then she hugs me. I totally don't expect this hug though, so I barely have time to even hug her back before she wishes us a good night, and closes herself in her room. I can imagine what that must have looked like to Tom, though. He'll probably scold me later for not hugging back.

Tom and I return to our room in silence. Last night, before I knew Sophie was even coming, I had many ideas about what we could do the next night. But now, I hardly think Tom would be up for any of them. And neither would I. I think we've distanced ourselves a little bit.