Unscripted Love • A Tom Hardy fanfic

Chapter 30

Tom held Fiona's hand over the corner of the table as they picked at the bowl of fruit cocktail in the center. The restaurant was busy for brunch, lots of families cheerfully enjoyed the long holiday weekend.

"What's something I don't know about you, yet?" Fiona asked Tom, as he speared a chunk of pineapple and tossed it in his mouth.

"Hmm," Tom thought as he chewed the sweet fruit. "I made a rap album that landed me a record deal."

"Really?" She smiled widely, finding it amusing.

"It comes out next month actually," he replied with a straight face.

"You're joking, right?" Fiona couldn't hold back her laughs. She could not imagine Tom rapping, not in his free time but definitely not on stage performing for people. Did Britain even have rappers?

"I'm not sure why you're laughing," he put another piece of pineapple in his mouth. "I'm a brilliant rapper, I can do a song for you now."

"No, no, that's ok," Fiona desperately hoped he would not start rapping in this gorgeous restaurant. She quietly took a sip of her juice.

"I'm taking the piss," Tom let out his loud giggle. "Well, not really. I mean I did get a record deal before I was an actor but I declined it. Well my agent made me decline it, more like it."

"Wow. I can seriously never believe anything you say," she laughed and threw her straw paper at him. "I'm so relieved though."

"I'm insulted," he finished his glass of orange juice. "I did make an album and everything. I was the real deal."

"Right," Fiona said slowly, unsure if he was joking or not at this point. "I'm with a jack of all trades, what else can you do."

"I modeled too for a while," he nodded his head. "Some good, some really embarrassing."

"I can see that though," she smiled. His large lips were eye candy and then paired with the rest of his face and body, he was beyond model worthy.

"But not me rapping," he scratched at his chest under his shirt. "Your turn."

The waiter placed two large black plates in front of them. Fiona tried their famous crispy french toast. Tom splurged and tried their chicken and waffles. Fiona had never had it but was surprised a place in Illinois had it since it was more of a southern delicacy.

"So go on," Tom said as the waiter left them to enjoy their meals.

"Well going off yours..." Fiona said, "I am not a rapper. But I used to sing and write music."

"Yeah?" Tom said with a piece of waffle dipped in a spicy yet sweet syrup in his mouth.

"No record deal though," she laughed. "I don't really do good with the whole singing in public sort of thing."

"Is that why I haven't heard you sing at'all?"

"Sort of. I mean I don't think I sing bad but my ex used to get mad when I sang every song on the radio," she shrugged, "so I tend to just sing when I'm alone."

"What a prick," Tom couldn't imagine restricting someone from singing along to the radio. "Well, I encourage you to sing every song your heart desires."

Tom took a sip of his orange juice and was going to add unless you sound like a dying cat, which he meant as a joke but figured it may be on par with her ex. He held back instead. If she did sound awful, however, he would just have to suck it up.

"Have you written anything about me?" Tom raised his eyebrows, hopeful.

"Sort of, nothing great though. It's a work in progress," she played with the food on her plate.