Chapter 18: Heart to heart

To be young and in love in New York City

To not know who I am but still know that I'm good

Long as you're here with me

- Lauv

"There you are."

I turned, recognizing Tom's voice as he spoke from where he stood in the doorway of the dimly lit bedroom I was in. "Hey. You found me."

"I did."

I heard the smile in his tone, and was gladder than ever that I wasn't prone to blushing. "Jayna's finally asleep. She wouldn't stop drunk-talking just now," I told Tom, pointing at my best friend's sleeping figure that was safely tucked under the bed covers.

Tom gave a low chuckle. "Harrison's knocked out on the sofa too, in the living room. I don't think we'll hear from him until breakfast time."

"Such party animals," I remarked in amusement. Switching the lights off and closing the bedroom door behind me, I walked out to the living room alongside Tom.

"And it looks like we're the boring, responsible parents who had to make sure they're taken care of," Tom observed, nodding at Harrison who was curled up on the sofa nearby, snoring lightly.

"At least there's no vomit to clean up."

"Not tonight, no," Tom replied with evident relief. "You're lucky you weren't around when Harrison had his birthday bash in July."

"How bad was it?"

"By the end of the night, he'd passed out with his cheek glued onto the toilet bowl lid."

"Sounds like I missed out on some truly fun times."

"We were all reminded of why you don't mix tequila with wine. And cider."

"You just shouldn't mix tequila with anything, ever. Not even with tequila."

"Truth," Tom agreed with a laugh.

I laughed along, but at the same time it didn't escape me that I was now essentially alone with Tom, in a hotel suite, and I had no idea what was going to happen next.

Tom must've sensed this. Fixing his twinkling eyes on me, he said, "So now that we've put the kids to bed…"

"Mmhmm," I answered noncommittally.

"Do you want to continue drinking? There's a complimentary bottle of champagne somewhere in this suite..."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I suppose we can't let a precious bottle of champagne go to waste…"

"I like how you're always so considerate like that, Ali," Tom responded, not even bothering to tone down his chuckling.

I grinned as I took in a deep breath. "Mm, you smell nice," I announced without thinking.

Amusement washed over Tom's face. "Why, thank you, Ali."

"No, sorry. I just meant that you're freshly showered.. While I can still detect the scent of chlorine in my crunchy, tangled hair," I hastily explained.

"Well, you pull off the crunchy, tangled hair look really well." Tom laughed then told me warmly, "I think you look great. You always do. It's like an effortless kind of beauty."

My eyes widened, more embarrassed than anything. And in a rare instance, I failed to produce a humorous quip in response. Because this really was an extremely extraordinary moment – had Tom Holland actually just indicated that I was… beautiful? In his (achingly gorgeous brown) eyes? Was this even real life?

Tom appeared to be slightly embarrassed too by his words. Placing a hand at the back of his neck, he said, "Why don't you hop in the shower while I get the champagne ready? With Haz in the living room and Jayna in the smaller bedroom, that leaves us with the master bedroom. We can drink in there – it has these tall windows with an amazing view of the city skyline."

The pounding in my heart was deafening and I almost forgot how to speak. Almost.

"Sure. But uhh, I just remembered that my backpack with some extra clothes is in Jayna's car," I managed to utter.

"Don't worry. I have a T-shirt you can wear. And probably some shorts too." Tom said, holding up his index finger to ask for a minute. "I'll get them from my suitcase in the bedroom."

Soon I had Tom's T-shirt and shorts in hand and trotted off to the second bedroom's bathroom in a daze. In the shower, I tried not to think about anything and instead focused on the continuous stream of hot water pouring down on me.

When I emerged 15 minutes later from the bathroom and padded on the luxurious carpeted floor into the master bedroom, I found Tom standing by the windows. The bedroom was gently lit up by a solitary floor lamp, illuminating Tom's silhouette as he looked out at what was indeed a mesmerizing sight of Manhattan in all of its splendor.

"It's like fireflies," I murmured as I joined him.

Tom turned to glance at me and smiled. "What is?"

"The city lights. They're pulsing like glowing fireflies," I elaborated. "It's magical."

"It is. All of this is," Tom observed smilingly at me.

Before I could respond, Tom's phone beeped. Fishing the phone from the pocket of his shorts, he quickly unlocked the screen. His jaw clenched as he read the text that had come in.

"Is everything all right?" I asked Tom.

Tom's eyes darted to my face before refocusing on his phone screen. "Just received some news. But it's nothing, really. I'll deal with it tomorrow."

I chewed on my lower lip. It didn't sound like nothing, but I didn't want to push it. "Okay."

Pocketing his phone back into his shorts, Tom's jaw relaxed and he threw me a quick, assuring smile. "Hey, are the T-shirt and shorts okay?" he asked.

I gazed down at his white Stussy sweatshirt and dark blue cotton shorts that I was wearing. "Yeah, thanks for loaning them to me."

"Of course," Tom replied easily. He indicated at the coffee table behind us, which boasted a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and two crystal flutes. "Let's give the champagne a try, shall we?"

I settled down on the plush two-seater sofa that the coffee table fronted while Tom poured the fizzy liquid into the flutes.

For the hundredth time that night, I had to refrain from pinching myself to check if all of this were real.

What was I doing, drinking in the middle of the night with the one person who'd managed to capture my heart – who happened to be a world-famous actor, and one who had just confessed tonight that he knew about my life story, and wanted to be with me? Me, a simple broke college kid with a broken past? I'd been wishing for this unlikely scenario to come true so much, that I didn't know what to do now that it was all within my grasp.

"Here you go," Tom said as he handed me one of the flutes and settled into the sofa next to me.

"Thanks, Trev."

"Hey, you okay? You look really deep in thought," Tom remarked.

"I'm good. I was a nervous wreck before tonight, not knowing what to expect. I guess on some level I'm still in disbelief over where we are now. I'm still processing it all," I explained, tucking one leg under me and taking a sip of the champagne.

"Yeah, absolutely. Take your time," Tom said gently. "We've got time."

"Do we?" I looked down at the champagne flute in my hand, picturing what would happen when the sun came up, which was only a few hours from now. "Tomorrow morning I'll be heading back to Warren and you'll be.. well, carrying out your actor duties around New York."

Tom reached to touch my hand. "Yeah, it'll be a hectic day of work for me tomorrow. But Warren – well, the whole of Connecticut, really – isn't too far from New York. So I'm sure there's some way we can meet again soon. That's the great thing about planes and cars, you know," he teased.

I cracked a smile. "I know. It's just.. My emotions have been all over the place in the past few months. They're not caught up with tonight just yet, I think."

"Well, the good news is that I'm willing to wait for as long as it takes. For you."

"But why?" I blurted out. "Why me, I mean. How much do you even know about me? I know you did a background check on me and all, but still."

Tom flinched at the words 'background check'. "Ali, I promise, it wasn't anything like that. And I wanted to tell you about it, but I chickened out each time and it came to a point where it got awkward to bring up. And I was worried that you'd shut me out completely once you've found out."

I wrinkled my nose. "I'm not wild about the whole thing, but I guess my past wasn't some big secret anyway. But tell me, just how much information did you unearth, Detective Trev?"

"Apart from what happened with your family.. Well, I know that you lived with your mother's sister after the accident, until you were 18. Then you moved out and got your own place. Your birthday's in April. And umm, I know your middle name is Rose."

"Whatttt. Okay, can you erase my middle name from your memory? Please? I'm fine with you knowing the rest of the stuff about me. I really don't like my middle name at all," I said, wrinkling my nose.

"Why not, Alison Rose?"

I gave Tom a death stare. "Oh, you think you're funny, Thomas Stanley?"

Tom chuckled. "Someone's been running a background check on me too, I see."

"Please. That's public information. A two-second effort on Google."

"What else do you know about me, Alison Rose?"

"Not much." I shrugged. "I was trying to forget about you…"

Tom touched my hand again. "I'm sorry. I caused you a lot of pain and confusion. But you know what? Whatever information I'd found out about you, it didn't compare to what I discovered as I got to know you for real."

I raised a questioning eyebrow at Tom.

He continued, "So this is all that I know now, okay? I know I find it cute how you'd constantly use humor to deflect attention from yourself.

I know how happy I feel when I say something and get a smile or a laugh from you. I know how genuine you are, no bullshit, no mind games. I know how your gray eyes can turn violet sometimes, like when we sat by the lake in Warren that fall day. I know that whenever something happened, you were the one I wanted to tell first. Always. And most of all, I know that I want to be there for you and protect you from all harm – even though I know you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. Just like a rose, delicate but fiercely waving her sharp thorns around to ward off people."

As touched as I was by all that Tom had said, I couldn't help laughing at the last bit. "All that sweet, wonderful prose was just to arrive at the point that I was a rose? Well played, Thomas Stanley," I uttered while raising my flute.

"Why, thank you, Alison Rose." Tom lifted his own flute and clinked with mine.

"However, this will still be the very last time you ever use that name."

"Is that so?"

"If you value your life, yup."

"What if I bribe you with gin?"

"No way."

"How about a fine bottle of gin and a huge bucket of popcorn?"

"Stoppp."

"A-ha! I'm wearing you down."

"That's absurd."

"Just imagine the world's most buttery popcorn, drenched in rich caramelized candy syrup…"

I placed my champagne flute down on the coffee table and folded my arms, looking at Tom. "Heartless. That's what you are."

"Am I?" Tom set his flute down too, and leaned in toward me. "Then why does my heart feel so much fuller than it's ever been?"

"Umm…"

I'd officially ran out of retorts and Tom must've picked it up. I sat perfectly still as he closed the gap between us and drew me into a soft, lingering kiss. His hands placed on my hips. My fingertips running across his shaved head, warm and comforting.

At some point Tom pulled me up from the sofa and the next thing I knew, we'd tumbled onto the bed, still in a liplock.

"Trev?" I mumbled breathlessly against his lips.

Tom paused, pulling away slightly and looking at me deeply in my eyes. "Ali? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Umm I just thought I should make it clear that –"

"That you want to take things slow?" Tom guessed, his tone nothing but tenderness.

"Yeah."

"I totally understand. I'd never want you to feel uncomfortable with me in any way, Ali."

I nodded.

"We'll go at grandma speed. Like, 10 kilometers per hour."

I let out a laugh. "Can I get that in miles?"

"Okay, I'll convert it for you. Just let me kiss you for two more seconds first.." Tom placed a hand under my chin and I melted into his approaching smiling lips, lost in our secret world that he had talked about.

I guess I had always known, of course, that my heart was his. And now in this beautiful, wondrous moment, I knew that his heart was mine.