12 Months (Tom Holland)

July

After getting my first car, Tom and I were never at our houses. We always ended up at the local Shake Shack or the beach. We loved the pool, but there was something about sand and sea that was so much better. We'd take a frisbee and invite a few strangers to play Ultimate Frisbee. Tom didn't want to be recognized yet, so he always wore a subtle disguise like a pair of sunglasses and a bucket hat. He looked like a doofus, but to others he was unrecognizable.

The windows were rolled down and we were on our way to the beach again. The weeks were winding down before senior year started. Schedules were already out and we found that Tom and I had two classes together. Neither of us wanted to go back yet, however. We didn't want to stop going to the beach, Shake Shack, and hanging at one another's houses. We had literally seen each other 20 hours of the day; we were inseparable.

I parked in our usual spot and Tom grabbed our stuff out of the backseat. Instead of a frisbee, we brought a volleyball in hopes of securing one of the volleyball nets. "You're so getting crushed, Holland," I bragged as we set up camp, "I was literally raised on beach volleyball." Tom put on sunscreen and his usual bucket hat and shook his head. "Not today, Stewart. You may have skill, but I have strength. You're getting whipped," he retorted. I raised my eyebrow at the last sentence, "Kinky." "I'll show you what I'm into in 11 months," he winked, "Unless, of course, you're already in love with me."

His words had an effect on me, but I had thick skin. I could do eleven more months. I could do ten fucking years before I would admit my feelings. As I watched him practice setting the ball and miserably failing, I felt a pang in my heart. The more I was with him, the harder it would be. I don't know why I was so stubborn about my feelings, maybe I didn't want anything serious to happen in my last year of high school. Maybe I didn't want the publicity and slander that would come with dating a celebrity. Or I was afraid that he was just playing with me and he had no real feelings and I would come across as stupid and ruin our friendship.

I recollected my thoughts and retorted, "I'll let you think that. Let's play." We scurried to an empty volleyball net and took opposing sides. I lost to Tom in rock, paper, scissors, so he got to serve first. "If I win, we go to Shake Shack and you pay," he said. "If I win, you drive me around the whole month of August," was my end of the bargain. "Good thing I'm winning then," he said and served.

Tom was winning 12-8 when a couple of people had shown up, asking if they could play. We agreed and the people chose sides. "I'm Kennedy and this is-" I was going to say Tom's name, but I didn't know if he wanted that. "I'm Tom," he waved and I breathed a sigh of relief. The two girls on my team introduced themselves as Emily and Krysta and the couple on Tom's team were Harrison and Yasmine. The six of us got to know each other better before we resumed the game.

We were now tied 28-28. Tensions were heavy since only one of us could get away with a victory. Both of us needed two more points in order to win and all of us were beginning to talk shit to one another. Tom was up to serve and I kept yelling at him. "Guys, he's gonna fuck up. He can't perform under pressure," I said to the girls. "I perform great under pressure, you should know," Tom said and served it. Krysta set the ball and Emily spiked it over, but Harrison had caught it in time. Yasmine set it for Tom to spike and I was the one to block him. He jumped and slammed the ball right into my face. I crumpled to the ground and watched as Emily saved it and Krysta got the kill, giving us the point.

"You okay, Kennedy?" Emily helped me up and I nodded, laughing off the stinging pain. Tom's words had me riled up for no reason and now I was pissed. It was my turn to serve and I was aiming for Tom. I did my routine warm up before I threw the ball up and served it with all my strength. It hit the net and ended up short. The score was now 29-29. "Talk about performing under pressure," Tom said to Harrison and the two guys laughed. I felt my skin burn, but I closed my eyes and quickly counted to ten to cool my anger. He's just riling me up, he doesn't mean it. I started the words, I shouldn't be affected by them.

Harrison served and Emily immediately spiked it down, giving us our 30th point. Krysta was the one to serve and Tom began to shout at our team. "Hey there, pretty girl," he cooed, "Serve that ball my way, pretty girl." Krysta ignored him and served it. It ended up in Yasmine's direction and she tried to pass it to Harrison, but it landed on the side of her forearm and went out of bounds. In an attempt to save it, Tom sprinted after and slid in the sand and hit it backwards, but there was no use. It was out of bounds still and Emily, Krysta, and I won.

We celebrated our victory, but there was something else on my mind now. I looked over at Tom and saw that his hat and sunglasses fell off, his "disguise" was no more. Harrison was the first to recognize him. "Holy shit, man," Harrison exclaimed, "You're Tom Holland?! No way!" This caught everyone's attention and our victory was in the back of everyone's minds. The group crowded Tom and began talking to him while I was left outside of the circle. They asked him for a photo and he said yes. "Hey, Kennedy, can you take the photo for us, please?" Yasmine was the one to hand me the phone. I never answered them, but since the phone was already in my grasp, I couldn't refuse.

After snapping the photo, the group left except Krysta. Her and Tom were flirting and exchanging numbers. Not wanting to be part of the conversation, I left the volleyball net and returned to camp to reapply sunscreen. Tom returned a few moments later, sighing in satisfaction. "Get yourself a hot date?" I asked playfully, disguising my hurt. There was no reason for me to be hurt, Tom wasn't mine.
Tom showed me Krysta's number and said, "Pretty sure it's just a celebrity crush. She'll be over it in a month or two. They always are." "And if they're not?" I raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, "Then it's creepy, I suppose. I don't know, I've never really encountered a stalker before and I don't plan to. Are you ready to leave?" He began to pack up our belongings and I helped him. I took the keys out of the bag, but Tom snatched them in a split second. "You won fair and square, m'lady. Tom Holland is now your chauffeur," he smiled at me and warmed my heart.

We returned to the car and I sat in the passenger seat, waiting for Tom to start the car. "You do know how to drive, don't you?" I teased. "I do," he stammered, "I was just thinking. I'm sorry I implied we had sex, Kennedy. That was very dickish of me." I was taken aback. I didn't expect him to realize his mistake, but I was glad he did. "You did piss me off," I was quiet now. I didn't know how to deal with confrontation or awkward conversations in general. I played with my hands and looked at the floor.

I felt Tom's finger lift my cheek up and make me keep eye contact with him. His eyes were sincere. "I don't want to hurt you, Kennedy. I may joke about us being together, but I know my boundaries, I'll wait for years if I have to," he let out a light chuckle before kissing my forehead, "You're my best friend."

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~Not edited~