𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

Sixty Two | Meatballs

Y/N

"Were those two girls filming back there?" I asked Tom as we got into the back of the hire car. The chauffeur was putting our suitcases in the boot for us which was nice of him to do.

"Honestly I wasn't even paying attention I just kept my head down and my girl close," he grinned cheekily.

"That was so lame. But no, I think there were people filming us getting in the car," I sighed. The windows were tinted darker than the usual car you'd see for our privacy although I was still weary.

"People take photos all the time, why do you seem nervous about this time?" Tom asked, putting his hand on my thigh with a look at concern.

"Well you posted on Instagram when we got to Los Angeles that we'd be there for a week after the show... But now we're in London straight after," I shrugged.

"You can't just go on the internet and find a list of people who have been deported darling. If it's really that much of an issue, you can just add something to your story saying that we came back for work and setting up the new film or something," Tom shrugged.

We slept in the car from the airport to Tom and Harry's house, waking up briefly to lug our suitcases up the stairs and greet Harry. We then went straight to bed to sleep the jet lag off. I know that people say you shouldn't nap and you should stay awake as long as possible to try and adjust to the time zone difference, but we were exhausted.

I woke up at about five, decided to freshen up with a shower in the ensuite and assumed it was about ten past when Tom shuffled into the shower behind me with his eyes still closed. This boy, loves his sleep.

"Can we get take out tonight?" Tom whined, leaning forward and holding his head straight under the running water, his fringe flattening down across his forehead and over his eyes.

"Whatever you want, I'm good with anything," I said smiling to myself as he exhaled a deep breath, spitting out a bit of water at the same time.

Something I had learnt about Tom in our short relationship thus far, was that it took him a really long time to 'properly' wake up. Seriously, he sets an alarm in the morning, just to lay in bed for half an hour on his phone, then has a shower, then has a tea, then gets ready for the day. And even then, he's still half asleep by the time he gets to work.

"Now that we know we can't go back to America for three years, have you thought about buying a place somewhere else? Maybe here in London?" Tom asked, his lips curling into a little smile as I turned the shower off and dried myself with a nearby towel.

To be fair, I hadn't even thought about it. My only through process lately was surrounding the new film and launching my writing career. Wait, fuck. Is he trying to insinuate that he wants me to not stay here? I don't even think I asked if I could live with him again, shit.

"Fuck, I didn't even ask you if I could stay here again did I? Shit Tom I'm so sorry, I've completely overstayed my welcome. I promise I'll look for rental places in between work," I said screwing my face up.

Another thing about Tom that I had learnt was he took a while to get dressed after his showers. When I finished having a shower for instance, I would dry off, wrap my hair up in a towel and get changed. Or if I had somewhere to go I would blow dry my hair. Tom on the other hand, rubs his hair with the towel, lays down his body and then walks around the house with the towel around his waist for like twenty minutes.

I genuinely don't understand why. I asked him once and he said it was to make sure he was 'proper dry' before getting dressed. I have no idea what that meant but I'm not complaining seeing him walk around naked albeit the towel. This is how he looked right now as I had changed into pajamas to go into the living room where Harry was watching television.