You hurried along the narrow hallway, Tom's hand on the small of your back in support. As instructed, you keep your eyes glued to the floor in front of you. Tom and his team gave you strict directions for handling the public, even though you shook them off most of the time.
Photographers didn't want to get pictures of you. You weren't in any movies or singing any songs on the radio, you were just Tom's friend. For years. No one would wonder further about you.
But Tom had been more private lately, trying to hide you from the cameras whenever you two saw each other. He had always been protective of you, but now that the world was watching all the time, he grew almost instinctive. He didn't want the world to intrude on your friendship.
The front door opens and you walk onto the sidewalk, a wave of flashing cameras nearly blinding you. But they light the way for you to look at your feet in front of you. People shouted at you, but only called Tom's name. You heard some 'hey, you!'s and assumed the strangers were calling to you, but you didn't look up to see.
A car door opens a few feet ahead and you scurry toward it. As you reach for the handle, two photographers fall into your path and tumbling to the ground. An arm catches the foot you were trying to lift and you start to fall over.
"(Y/N)!" Tom calls.
You feel a sharp jerk of your arm. As your face is inches from the side of the car, you're yanked backward. Your body slams into Tom's chest and he holds you in place, his arm snaked tightly around your back. When you catch your breath, you lift your face to look where you've landed.
Tom stares down at you with scared eyes, his mouth inches from yours as he breathes against your skin. "Are you okay?" he asks in a huff.
You nod numbly and wonder why you never saw the softness in the color of brown in his eyes.
Your trance is broken by the rapid clicking of photographers, catching you up close, inches apart.
Tom pulls you against him once more, around the photographers on the ground and into the van. The door slams, enclosing you two between heavy breaths and the new darkness.
You catch Tom's glance as sit up in the car. You stare at each other, then Tom slowly scoots closer to you. His cautious eyes don't change, a worried look struck on his expression.
"Are you -" he asked in a rough whisper, still inching toward you.
"Yes."
Without knowing why, you grab his neck and meet him halfway through the space between you. He kisses you before you can take a breath, and in seconds his arms wrap around your hips, squeezing you as he sucks in.
"(Y/N)," he whispers when he pulls away from your lips.
You moan as he moves his lips down your neck, kissing and sucking the skin above your collarbone. Your body twitches when he gently bites your skin.
The nip brings you back to reality: Tom, your best friend, had his lips against you, his hands pressed against...
You gasp as you pull away from him. "We can't," you say immediately.
But you want to. You want to keep kissing him the whole ride back to his flat, and go up with him to do it more. But he's your best friend. Every relationship either of you has had ended badly, and you can't lose Tom.
Tom sits frozen, staring at you with his mouth open, creasing his brow as though he wants to think of something to say.
"(Y/N), I have to tell you how I feel -"
Panic rises in your stomach.
"Stop the car!" you shout to the driver. "Please, drop me off at this intersection."
"(Y/N), please don't run," Tom reaches for your hand. "Please just hear me out."
The driver pulls up to the side of the street and stops the car.
"I can't tonight, Tom," you kiss his cheek, something you always did when you apologized to him. "I have to get home. But call me if you need anything."
"Let me give you a ride home!" Tom exclaims as though you're being a petulant child.
"I can't," You mutter. "I'm sorry, Tom, I have to go."
You open the door and dash out before you can hear his shouts of objection as you make your way down the street.
TO BE CONTINUED...
