Loving Out Loud

Eraser

As I've written in the previous chapter, Tom and I had had an incident. Well, that's how I like to call it. When it's more of a really big problem. First, I have to say that I was worried from the moment he has said he's going to The Continent, that something wasn't right. But, as always, I accomplished to made myself believe it was just an overthinking kind of worry.

The main problem was that I have known about his past more than he has known about mine. That is actually a good thing, for any other kind of relationship, except for the one with an artist. It's hard, to be emotionally involved with an artist. Especially actor. They are being taught to lie, and to conceal the truth. It's in their nature. And, as much as they are smart, eloquent, well-mannered and nice, they are, after all, trained liars.

So, as you may have guessed, Tom has lied to me about his "work" in Prague. It wasn't a super secret movie project. It was a theater project. With his ex girlfriend. I don't want to name her, or the project, because all you really need to know is that they've been communicating about working together for quite some time. Which is completely fine, I mean, I live in the same street as my ex boyfriend (the one before Matthew), and I see him almost every day. But, the difference here is that Tom knows about that, and I had no clue about him working with this woman. And, above all, he lied about the purpose of the trip. The reason he gave me, was that he "wasn't sure how I would react". Therefore, he has decided not to tell me at all. But, his long tongue darted out after few drinks with the crew, so he blabbed everything out. I haven't said a thing, just told him I'd call him later. But I didn't. For two days. I couldn't pick up the phone, or turn the Skype on, just because I was afraid she would be there and... That's when the story about the dress kicked in.

And there I was, sitting on my chair and looking at that piece of clothing. Tom called numerous times, but I couldn't stand the thought of his voice, telling me that it's nothing, and that they are just friends now, and that all of that is just business or something like that. Because, if it was true, he wouldn't have any need of sending me some luxury presents. I didn't need his money, fame, or to be known as "Tom Hiddleston's girlfriend". The only thing I needed and wanted was his love. True, and unconditional. No lies, no games. Just truth and honesty. Pure love. But, instead of soft and beautiful "I love you", I got drunk and giggly "I'm doing a play with her here".