Taming Lies (A Tom Hiddleston Story)

sixteen: child's play

Chapter Sixteen

Child's Play

The door was opened to our suite and I couldn't help but observe with astonishment. When I pictured the master suite in my mind, I wasn't expecting this. It was almost like the insides of a mansion was crammed into a hotel room. As much as it was beautiful, I struggled to keep my eyes open. Two hours stuck in traffic is not fun to sit through, and exhausting when you're the passenger.

"Wow..." Tom whispered, "I wasn't expecting this..."

I punched his arm, "You weren't expecting this? Then you would have no idea how I'm feeling right now!" Tom shot me a glance and grabbed my hand, whisking both of us into the apartment. My eyes pinpointed several painting and sculptures decorating the place, giving it a unique feel. I lost my footing and collapsed into the sheets of the king-sized bed. I disappeared into the cushion-like mattress and felt like the comfort had swallowed me whole, "I have never felt so tired."

"You're telling me," Tom chuckled, jumping onto the side next to mine. He flicked his wrist and lowered his eyes, a yawn escaping from him, "It's half-past eleven. No wonder we're exhausted." The doorbell rang and Tom leapt up, "That would be the bell boy," He stated, opening the door and retrieving our bags. Tom brought them back to the bed and placed the suitcase next to mine, "Get changed. It's probably best if we get some sleep; we have a big day tomorrow."

"You have a big day," I corrected, sitting up to unzip my suitcase.

Tom smirked, "Yeah, but you're coming with me."

"Touché..." I giggled, unravelling a nightgown from the depths of the case. I turned around to Tom and pushed his cheek, "Well, turn around!" I demanded. Tom gave in with a smile and faced his back to me. I slid my shirt over my head and slipped my legs out of my denim jeans, throwing the gown over my head. I faced Tom's back, "You can turn back around, but I have no doubts towards the fact that you looked."

Tom surrendered his hands up, shaking his head as a reply. He dragged his jeans off and slid the long pyjama trousers over his legs, looking back at me - topless. I tried not to drool at the sight of his chest and I raised my eyebrows, "You going to put a shirt on, Hiddleston?"

"I'd rather not wear one," Tom replied, trying not to burst into laughter. I rolled my eyes and gathered my hair up into a frilled bun, Tom slipping under the sheets. I followed him and shuffled closer to him; his arms wrapping around my small body. The covers enveloped me and caressed me into a cocoon.

I looked up at him and his eyes met mine, "You were going to tell me something..." I said, my voice muffled from being pressed against his body.

Tom opened his arm and I pressed my head onto his shoulder, his arm rubbing up and down my arm and towards my wrist. I felt quite warm against him and almost like it was a home to me, "Tomorrow," He breathed, the words almost not in existence, "Tomorrow the paparazzi will be there. A lot of people will be there. But we are not to hide, we are to show ourselves that we are heavily in love," he instructed, kissing my cheek, "And don't worry. I'll explain it all in interviews to come."

"Ok, that's fine with me..." I replied, breathless, "I was sick of hiding, and its great you're taking one for the team." The conversation died down as we both stared at the roof above us, caving us in. My hand reached out and I rubbed my fingertips back and forth on his chin, feeling his slight stubble. My eyes fluttered to a close and I yawned softly, "What about manage-"

"Don't..." Tom instructed, pushing a finger to my lips, "Don't talk about them. I honestly couldn't care less about them. They're pulling us apart."

I nodded, even know I had heard the information plenty of times, "What did they speak about?" I asked, "At the meeting?"

Tom didn't know how to respond at this point, so he just sighed gently, his fingers massaging a circle on my waist, "They said I had a month to decide over you or my career..."