Twelve Red Roses (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 4- The Beach (Part 1)

Instead of just driving to the Backspace Cafe, like originally planned, Tom had something else in mind. 

"Have you been to the beach yet?" He had asked the moment we got into the car. 

"No," I admitted. 

"What? How can you go to California and not go to the beach?"

I shrugged. And that made Tom pull over and turn around.

"What? Tom! What about food?" I asked.

"Oh, don't you worry, Cass. I'll take us somewhere perfect."

So now, after only ten minutes of driving, I felt awkward. The car's interior was beautiful, that's for sure, and with the top down, it made my hair fly behind me. And it made his beautiful, russet curls fly around as well. 

"Favorite color," he says suddenly. "Go."

"What?"

"That's not a color."

I giggle lightly, rolling my eyes. "Why'd you ask that?"

"It's a way to cure our boredom and get to know each other," he explains. 

"Oh, alright. Um... Green, I guess. Or black."

His face scrunches up slightly, but he looks no less handsome. "Black? What kind of favorite color is that?"

"I don't know," I say, shrugging lightly. "It's simple, and calming, and it goes with anything." I smile. "What's yours?"

"I like blue," he says. 

That makes me laugh, which makes him give me a questioning glance. 

"What's so funny?"

I turn my attention from the passing buildings and palm trees to him. I mean, to be honest, I'd much prefer to just be looking at him the entire time. 

"Do you ever just look at yourself in the mirror and admire the blue color of your eyes?" I ask.

He smiles. "No. Do you?"

"Do I stare at your eyes in the mirror? No."

"No, your eyes," he says, grinning. 

I chuckle. "Nope."

Tom just smiles again. "See, I told you you were fun, Cass. I haven't smiled like this in a long time."

That causes me to look away, hoping my blood isn't rushing to my face. "Ah, yeah... I'm sure you haven't."

"I haven't," he confirms, which is hard to believe since he's always smiling. 

I guess I sort of suck at taking compliments. But I wish I didn't. I guess I just hate saying 'thank you' to things like that. I feel vain. 

"Hey, there's a plug-in for IPods and IPhones in here. That way we can listen to our own music. We can plug in my phone, if you'd like," he says, changing the subject. And I was grateful for that. 

I smile. "Sure thing." But instead of plugging in his phone (which was sitting next to mine in the small compartment holder), I plug in my phone and turn on Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond. It's a good song in my opinion. 

Tom, realizing it's not his phone that's plugged in, chuckles. "Oh, you're so mean," he jokes. 

"I know," I say, grinning. "But, come one, this song isn't too bad, is it?"

He shakes his head, still smiling. "It'll do." Then he turns up the volume, his blue eyes meeting mine for just a second before returning to the road.