Hello Again (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

May 2011: Cinderella Complex

“Do you have something to wear?” Santos asks, his voice sounds far away.

“Yeah, I—“

“No, don’t say the black dress from freshman year.  I forbid you to wear that.” He interrupts.  I roll my eyes and set down the pen I have in my hand.  My small desk is covered in paperwork, and stacks of binders full of things I need to organize and catalogue.

“It’s a nice dress.” I pout and then chew nervously on my lip.  It’s one of my only dresses.  I’m more of a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. 

“It was sort of a nice dress back in like 1995 when you bought it.” He laughs, and I only feign anger for a few seconds before I join in.

“Rude.” I scold softly.  He’s right though.  It’s a plain, midlength black dress that I bought when I was ten pounds heavier, and a big fan of hiding under big, billowy clothing.

“I’m joking, Gracie. Sort of.  Okay, I’m not.  But this is a big deal.  You’re representing your gallery when you go.  Sure, you could play the ‘I’m an artist and I can wear severely outdated clothing because I’m so cool and I don’t care what you think but I really do care what you think, love me, love me, please love me’ route.  But that’s so old. And tired.  And you’re far too pretty for that.  So go to Michael Kors and get yourself something fancy.” I can hear him typing as he speaks, so I’m sure he’s multitasking while at work.

“Michael Kors?” I mimic him, writing down the name on a scrap of paper.

“Why do you sound frightened? I said Michael Kors, not Michael Myers.” He says.

“I…am frightened.  A little.  You’re right.  It’s a huge deal that Vera asked me to go and represent the gallery.  She said normally she’d go herself, but it’s the opening for the new exhibit here.  It’s not even a big event.  It’s just a charity thing that we’ve loaned some pieces to.  I’m just there to be a face for the gallery.  But…she’s never asked me to do anything like this before.  I don’t want to let her down.” I look down at my nails, which are badly mangled from nervous chewing.  I add “manicure” to my list on my scrap of paper, and then “pedicure” after peeking at my toes.

“Vera knows you’re amazing.  She sees how dedicated you are.  She knows you can’t stay a junior gallery assistant  the rest of your life.  I bet you she’s grooming you.” Santos says, his voice rising slightly.  I laugh.

“Grooming me? I don’t know that that happens.” I shake my head.  He’s been watching too many reality competition shows.

“Whatever.  Listen, I’m very busy and important, so I need to go now.  Do you need a date for this event?  I’m already in DC! I’ll be the perfect date.  I just got a new Tom Ford suit and I need to break it in.”

“Tom Ford?”

“You’re killing me.”

“I wish I could bring you, but I don’t get a plus one.  It’s going to be terribly awkward.  Vera said I’ll have ‘unprecedented access to the museum’, so I figure I can just drink a lot of free champagne and then sneak around the exhibits.”

“My suggestion is to find a plus one at the event, and then sneak around the exhibits with them.  I’ve never done it in a museum.” He sounds thoughtful. “Wait, does a historical site that has paintings in it count?” He is completely serious.

“Good bye, Santos.” I can’t hold in my smile.  I haven’t seen him in three weeks and I miss him terribly.

After New Years, he accepted a job at an architectural firm in Washington, DC.  While it’s a short car ride away from New York, at times, it can seem like it is across the country.  We’re both normally so busy during the week, that we are lucky if we get in a few text messages.  He says he eventually wants to come back to New York, but for now he seems to be having fun getting to know a new city.  Perhaps it’s a side effect for both of us from coming from fractured families.  We never really knew home, so we’re not all that pressed about moving around.  Nothing is permanent.