All Roses Must Wilt (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 4- Preparing for Dinner

I wake up in the morning, my body stiff, and realize I'm sleeping on a small couch. The memories of last night slowly come back to me. Kate and I stayed up really late eating snacks, watching Netflix, and doing all of that girly stuff that girls do on sleepovers. Except a pillow fight. We don't exercise during sleepovers. Too much of a hassle.

I slowly climb out of the bed, running a hand through my hair. What was once styled into neat waves yesterday was now a mess. "Kate?" I call out. She probably crashed in her bedroom.

No answer.

"Kate!" I shout, this time louder. I rub my eyes, trying to rid them of sleepiness. With still no response, I groan, deciding to wake her up myself. Kate, Tom, and I are definitely not morning people. Rather surprising, in my opinion. It's almost dangerous to wake the two of them up when they had a long night, but five minutes later they can be cheery, awake, and beautiful looking. Pretty-people logic. I enter her room and it's like a deja vu from yesterday. God, her and Tom so alike appearance-wise. It's not fair. I want the blonde-ish curls and deep blue eyes. "Kate, time to get up. You have work today."

Her head shoots up. "Crap, I totally forgot.." She mutters. "Why didn't you tell me that yesterday before we decided to stay up late?"

"Hey, it was your idea," I mutter back.

"How bout you, do you have work?" She asks me, slowly getting up.

"Nope," I respond, popping the 'p.' "I didn't use all of my vacation days from last year, so they gave me a week off."

"Ugh, I hate you. You're so lucky."

"Lucky?" I ask, smiling lightly. "I work in an office all day writing articles. How am I lucky?"

"Better than what I do," She complains. "I get coffee for my boss all day."

I smirk. "Yeah, maybe I am lucky."

Kate scowls. "Shut up. Get out of my house while you're at it," she jokes.

"Alright, breakfast it is," I decide, leaving her room and head in into her small kitchen. I have no clue why I do this. People are always telling me I'm blunt, rude, and sarcastic, yet whenever I enter a friend's house, I'm always making them their tea and eggs. My logic.

~

After I make some breakfast for Kate, I decide to head home so she can get to work. I don't really have much to do when I get back home. I decide to write some more articles for work. Typical. I get a week off from work and I end up doing work.

But I can't seem to stop thinking about the dinner at seven tonight. With Tom. I mean, I've had meals with him before, but never dinner. In a nice cafe. Wearing nice clothing. But it wouldn't be that different, would it? Since I'm not able to continue my work for much longer, I decide to shower and start getting ready. Kate has given me tips many times about going on dates, and she always tells me to not get ready way too early. So I'm basically disobeying her number one rule, here. Sorry, Kate.

After I get out of the shower, I wrap a towel around myself and my hair before going into my closet. Nice clothes. What did I have that was nice? I pretty much wore jeans and T-shirts every day. Whenever I would try to wear something pretty, my friends (including Tom) would make a big deal out of it, telling me that I looked pretty and should wear nice clothes more often. Kate often lectures me about how T-shirts don't show off my curves, while good-fitted blouses will. Maybe today is one of those days I'll pull out my old good-fitted blouses.

I couldn't exactly wear a skirt or dress since it was still pretty cold out. You'd think it'd start to get warmer right after January, but no. It's still cold all throughout February. February... Tom's birthday is in a week. He'll be thirty-three years old. And then there's my birthday... It always made me uncomfortable how close it was to his. A day before, to be exact. Tom always makes a huge deal out of my birthday, and doesn't even expect anything for his. How can be be so selfless? It's incredible.

I hastily check my watch, but let out a breath of relief when I realize it's only two. I still have five hours left. Maybe I should have woken up earlier. Emma and I slept in until eleven. Then I made her breakfast, so I didn't even come home until 12:30.

I sigh, searching through my jeans. None of these were special. None of them were pretty whatsoever. I think I need to go clothes shopping soon.

Maybe I'm over thinking this. Maybe when Tom said 'wear something nice,' he just meant something that wasn't dirty or ripped. But knowing him, he'll show up in nice pants, a white button up shirt, maybe even a black vest over it. He always overdoes it. I suppose I don't have any other choice but to look through my skirts. I finally manage to find a simple black one that goes just above my knees. And when I say it's simple, it's pretty simple. But I like simple. For the top, I slip on a white tank top with a black lace over shirt over it. This isn't over doing it, right? God, I hope I don't look too fancy.

But wait.... Since when do I care about what I look like in front of Tom? He's seen me in my sweatpants from when I first wake up. I don't ever bother to look pretty for him. Why do I have butterflies all of a sudden? I hold my stomach, mentally cursing at it to stop. But it doesn't stop.

I dry my hair the rest of the way and just decide to straighten it, ridding it of the messy waves. If I leave my hair curly, some people may think I purposely curled it to look "pretty." I don't want to look pretty.

Then I sit. I sit on the couch in my living room, nervously fiddling with the TV remote. No need to do my makeup now. I have... I check my watch. I have three and a half hours left. I guess it's time for some TV.

Oh, Kate. I hate you for pointing out Tom Hiddleston's features to me. I'm positive that's why I'm feeling nervous all of a sudden.