Something to Cool Could Happen: A Tom Holland Love Story

4: Ballet at Breakfastime

Tom stirred to birds chirping outside as well as the faint sound of the TV. He rolled over and checked his phone. 8:34. A burst of energy came through him when he realized where he was. He shot up, put on a clean shirt and joggers and grabbed his toothbrush, headed towards the bathroom next door. Damn, he thought as he faced himself in the mirror. He had a bit of darkness under his eyes and was in dire need of moisturizer. He brushed his pearly whites and splashed some water on his face, eyeing the Olay on the counter. There was just something about using skincare that wasn't yours.

"Much better." He mumbled to himself, patting his skin. He fiddled with his hair a bit, slapped on some deodorant from his bag and giddily followed the sound from the TV into the den. He wasn't prepared for what he was about to see. Penelope was wearing black leggings and a white sports bra just casually doing a split on a pink yoga mat, watching cartoons. She giggled like child as Wilma scolded Fred Flintstone, making Tom melt. Her gorgeous curls were loosely tied in a ponytail with a couple of messy ringlets framing her face. She didn't notice him until he absentmindedly stubbed his toe on a dog bowl. She whipped her head around.

"Oh, you're up. I thought you guys would sleep in later." She got up and quickly put on a T-shirt, much to Tom's dismay.

"It's just me. I'm sure they're still up there passed out. I heard the TV—"

"Sorry did I wake you?"

"No, no I woke up on my own. You can do the splits—"

"Only my right. I'm working on the others. I have this idea in my head that it will magically make me a better dancer."

"I'm not flexible at all."

"What? How are you not? You're a trained ballet dancer motherfucker."

He blushed at that line. "Yeah I am. I'm also trained in gymnastics and I'm fucking Spider-Man...but I can't touch my toes."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not." He proceeded to reach for his toes, to no avail. Penelope couldn't believe her eyes. She was more flexible than Spider-Man.

"Unbelievable."

"How about you show me what you do to stretch, and I'll give you a little ballet lesson. Could be fun?"

Penelope beamed. An informal Tom Holland ballet workshop. Score. "Shall I get my tights?"

"Yes please." Tom immediately regretted how that came out, but quickly saved it with his biting wit. "Got any in my size?"

They laughed it off. "We should stretch first, I already have for the most part, but I don't mind doing it again."

"This is gonna hurt, isn't it?" Tom nervously scratched his head.

"Just focus on the TV and you'll be fine. The first day's the worst day."

"Alright, let's do it."

A myriad of intense stretches and yoga poses later, and Tom collapsed on the mat. "I think I deserve a pancake. Or five. My legs are crying." The time was now 9:28, a perfectly good time as any for pancakes. Penelope took out the mix and worked some magic, Tom helping of course.

"Do you want any fruit or milk or anything."

"Yes and yes." He smiled as she pulled out some blueberries and strawberries. She was pouring him a glass of milk when they heard footsteps coming down from above.

"I smell pancakes!" Harrison blissfully danced into the kitchen with Jacob close behind. Joy was spread across his face like jam on toast. "Ohhh yeah...pancakes indeed."