A Week With the Hollands

Chapter Eight

     Day five.

     Sunday.

     Sunday morning, I called my mom and cousin. I had been practically ghosting them ever since I'd hopped on the plane with Tom. I didn't tell them about how I was with a celebrity, or the fact that I was supposed to be pretending to be his fiancé. I named no names and was extremely short with them.

I wish I could say that I felt bad for treating them that way, but I didn't. They'd been bugging me the whole time I'd been in London to give them a call. But I had other things on my mind at the moment.

Other things like the fact that it was now extremely awkward whenever Tom and I were around each other. And the fact that he'd basically told me he had feelings for me in the orange grove.

     At about mid-day, I walked outside and sat on the back patio table. Tom and Paddy were there, throwing a ball back and forth in the yard. I smiled at him, but he didn't see me. He really was too good to be true.

     After a couple minutes, Paddy ran inside and Tom joined me at the table. It was quiet for a minute, until I said, "Are you...good?"

     He gave me a look, and nodded with a forced smile. "Yeah. I'm-I'm good. How are you? The party's tomorrow night. Are you nervous?"

     He changed the subject.

     But I went along with it anyways. "Yeah, a little. I'm only nervous because of how many people will be there. And I'm not that great of an actress."

     "Nonsense. You're amazing! You've even convinced Harrison; that requires skill." He winked at me.

      And suddenly, everything was back to normal again. It was like nothing ever happened. We joked and laughed and played the rest of the day. We were friends again.

     I woke up in the middle of that night; I was thirsty. I walked into the kitchen and got myself a glass of water. When I turned around to go back into my bedroom, though, I noticed that Tom was sitting on the couch in the den, eating a sand-which, while an oldies show played on mute on the television.

     He'd heard me, though, so his head was turned my way, with an incredulous expression written across it. The scene made me laugh out loud, but I quickly covered my mouth because I didn't want to wake anyone up.

      I walked into the den and took a seat on the other end of the couch. "Is this a regular nightly routine of yours?" I asked him.

      "Only when I can't sleep," he replied.

      "Why can't you sleep?" I asked.

     He shrugged. "I don't really know. This happens every so often. Bonanza is quite entertaining," he said, motioning to the muted t.v. "And a PB&J is always nice."

     I laughed again. "My grandpa watches Bonanza."

     "Your grandpa has excellent taste."

     There was a moment of silence then, which I filled with a long, heavy, sigh. "Well, unmute it, will you?" I asked. "Maybe we can watch until we get sleepy enough to go to bed."

      "Alright. Are you cold? Come over here. We can share this blanket." He said it so casually, yet when I scooted over next to him and our bodies were close together under the blanket, I got that feeling again. That feeling of butterflies and sweat and my pounding heartbeat.

     He smirked at me. "Why is your heart racing, Emily?"

      I blushed straight up to my roots, I'm sure. How did he know that my heart was racing? "Is it that loud?" I asked with a small smile.

      "Well, you're shaking and your breaths are heavy. We're sitting smushed together on this loveseat, so I can feel your heartbeat just a bit."

      I wanted to kiss him.

      It would be the perfect timing.

But I couldn't. I looked away. All I said was, "Yeah."

Heyyyyy! Ooohh omg guys are you excited? I'm so excited! Yayyyaayy!
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