The response to this fic has absolutely astounded me; it's been phenomenal – and to think; I wasn't even going to bother uploading it; because I thought it was rubbish! Thank you so much, all of you – you're really amazing. I've been grinning madly every time I get a review; to the extent that my best friend thought I'd gone completely insane.
I do have another fic that I'm working on; which is nowhere near as cheerful, I admit, but it will contain Tom and Nicki. Also, everyone, go and read Bleeding Love by HedgieX – it's amazing and definitely deserves more reviews. Sorry for babbling on – this is a long chapter anyway!
Sleep deprived, the staff and students of Waterloo Road arrived in London. Their hotel was in the centre of London, just south of the river and a four star establishment. The teachers had mused that this was possibly a mistake, as on school trips, something almost always went wrong involving the hotel, however they had agreed to overlook this in the light of the discovery that the hotel had a spa, swimming pool and room service (which the students had been expressly banned from using).
"Right, you lot, we have arrived at the hotel," Nicki shouted over the rabble, pausing and smiling as the students cheered, "You've already been told your room numbers, so when you've got your cases, collect the key from reception and go up in the lift to the correct floor. Unpack tidily, and meet us down at reception again in one hour. Got it?"
"Do you have a bad feeling that something's going to go wrong?" Tom asked her as she turned back towards him. In the light of the sunrise, she looked so glowing and beautiful that he almost forgot where they were and told her so – but only almost, for there was a loud yell from the back of the coach, and words that indicated that someone had dropped their bag on Grantly's foot.
"I feel like that all the time," she admitted, laughing at Grantly's furious expression, "But it's all good fun, isn't it?"
"You've clearly never been on a residential with Waterloo Road before." He told her, with a slightly forlorn expression on his face, one eyebrow raised, half a grin on his face.
"It'll be an experience." She answered wryly, her eyes full of laughter and sparkling as the last of the students filed off the coach. She stepped off the coach, still barefoot having thrown her shoes into her bag, and into a sea of shouting students, cutting through the throngs of teenagers talking far louder than was strictly necessary.
"One you'll never forget; methinks." He added, following her as the students began to depart into the hotel. It was a row of large Victorian townhouses – partially whitewashed, with wooden framed windows and brown bricks.
How right he was – although they didn't know it yet; neither of them would forget this particular school trip in a hurry.
"So; today we're doing the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey, tomorrow we're giving them a free reign, God help London, Wednesday, the Tower and the British Museum, Thursday, a river cruise thingy, Buckingham Palace and the theatre, Friday we're going on the London Eye, yeah?" he questioned, pointing to various parts of the itinerary for the trip.
They were sat on Nicki's bed in her room, devouring a packet of Kettle Chips – they'd somehow wound up with adjoining rooms, which, she had pointed out, would be excellent for sharing their alcohol and food, and spending their evenings talking rather than watching awful TV. He had been more than happy with this plan.
"Yeah, and there's a restaurant in the hotel where we'll have breakfast and tea; the students are in charge of their own lunches." She added, leaning over him to get her bottle of water from her bedside table. Admittedly, she could quite easily have got him to get it for her, but she thought it far more fun to tease him by 'accidently' brushing his leg with her hand, watching his facial expression as he tried to remain neutral. She didn't usually have this effect on men; and while she could, she decided to exploit the position at every possible opportunity.
Annoyingly, he appeared to be equally good at this game. He often succeeded in brushing her waist with his hand, and she was convinced that he knew that he was sending sparks of electricity up her spine. It was surely just a question of who would crack first.
She'd heard his reputation; and, frankly, it didn't sound good. But Tom was no player; it just so happened that most of the women he dated seemed to be his colleagues; and each and every one of his relationships had seemingly been doomed to failure from before they began. The chemistry between them, however, was undeniable – even Janeece had commented on it. On the other hand, Janeece had managed to convince herself that Sian and Matt were having an affair; so her powers of deduction were not exactly what one would call sharp.
It was 9.30am in London, and the staff and students of Waterloo Road were waiting in the formerly classy, tidy lobby of the hotel they were staying in. Needless to say, after Waterloo Road had been present for an hour, the place looked as if a tornado had run through it, and for good measure, a couple of bombs had been dropped.
Chalky tried and failed miserably to tidy the entrance up, pushing chairs and sofas back into their rightful places, however just as soon as he did this, they moved back into their former positions. Matt and Grantly were blundering around attempting to get the students into one group, as opposed to them milling around in uncountable gangs.
Suddenly, there was a loud, united shout of "Oi, shut it!" from Nicki and Tom, who were stood at the bottom of the stairs, both mysteriously wearing different clothes to those that they had arrived in. Both students and teachers exchanged what they thought to be knowing glances.
"Thank God we didn't go to Paris, we'd never have got them out of the bedroom." Grantly complained, much to the amusement of Matt, who having been best friends with Steph Haydock, knew how badly wrong both she and Grantly usually were when it came to the nature of their colleagues' relationships.
"Told ya." Lauren said triumphantly to Finn, who rolled his eyes and muttered something about her being a smug cow as he handed over the £5 bet to her outstretched hand.
"Right, you lot, get on the coaches, same seats as before. If any of you make a fuss, you will be sitting at the front next to Miss Boston and I." Tom announced authoritatively, prompting Grantly to add another remark about them 'not being able to stop playing bloody tonsil tennis for long enough to discipline their students' – despite the fact that nobody actually had proof that they were anything more than close friends.
The tours of the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey went reasonably well. Nobody knocked anything over, insulted anyone or got lost – which, as Tom stated several times, was both a minor miracle, and like pride before a fall. He was so convinced, in fact, from his past experiences on school trips, that he was prepared to place a bet with Nicki, which she gladly accepted.
If the entire trip went without incident, he had said, he would be willing to pay for drinks for the next month. She had attempted to remind him of the 'fun run' – the bet which had involved him buying two enormous bottles of champagne at great expense, having overestimated his fitness. Despite this, he was so confident in the likelihood of something going catastrophically wrong that they placed the bet – signed with a novelty pen from a man dressed up as a bear on Westminster Bridge.
They were now sat at the long table in the hotel's restaurant having finished their tea (a deeply nutritious steak and chips, followed by a shared dessert of chocolate ice cream), opposite each other, trying their level best to talk over the noise being created by their students. They had both changed clothes again – with Nicki purposely wearing a low cut top to see where his eyes lingered. She was stunned to discover that his eyes generally remained looking at hers, rather than travelling south, where half of the male students' eyes had become drawn to – which was, frankly, disturbing, bearing in mind that she was almost twice the age of the Year Elevens, many of whom had spent the last forty minutes staring at her chest in what they thought to be an inconspicuous manner.
They'd sat in a circle in the lobby, playing card games with the Year 13's until the 10pm curfew – Nicki was surprisingly good at poker, and had succeeded in gaining three packets of chocolate, some foamy bananas, a necklace of sweets and Tom's jumper. She was wearing all of her winnings – attaching the packets of foamy bananas to her earrings, and storing the chocolates underneath a hat she had obtained somehow – nobody was entirely sure who it belonged to, but there was some rumour flying about that it may have once been Grantly's. The students had developed their liking of Miss Boston – many of them had thought that she was overly strict, sharp and disciplined – but this holiday was revealing a different side to her; one which everyone liked.
As Nicki and Tom made their way upstairs, both exhausted from the day's events, they both seemed to silently feel comfortable, and as if there was nothing in the world for them to worry about. Other than the impending trips around London which would almost certainly result in them receiving lifetime bans from the capital.
She was dressed in favourite pyjamas, free of make-up and with her hair still damp and curly, checking on the students in their rooms and wishing them goodnight. It was odd to see them all in their pyjamas; and undeniably weird for them to see her barefoot, cosmetics-free and wearing nightclothes.
"You alright, girls?" she asked, opening the final door on her rounds of the corridors. The large, spacious room contained Madi, Shona and Rhona, who had been surprisingly quiet this evening - for them, at least.
"Yeah Miss, thanks." Madi smiled as she applied some cream to her now make-up free face. Nicki smiled back as the girls wished her goodnight, exiting the room quietly and padding across the corridor to Tom's room.
She knocked twice on the white wooden door, waiting outside a little nervously. It was one thing for them to spend time together as close friends, playing poker, drinking and eating, but entirely another for them to sit in a hotel room, clad only in pyjamas, alone together at 11pm.
He opened the door, and she found herself smiling, mentally cursing herself for looking like such an idiot. He beckoned her to come in, walking back into the room. She followed him, closing the door quietly behind her and sitting on the bed next to where he stood. The TV was on; although he was clearly not watching it, rather finishing unpacking his suitcase – i.e; stuffing all of his clothes into a wardrobe messily.
"I am so tired; I could sleep forever." She admitted, yawning. She got up from the bed, going over to the window and surveying the London skyline. He joined her, and they were so close in the limited space between the two walls, he could catch the scent of shampoo from her freshly washed hair. He was so sorely tempted to put his arms around her, and hold her forever, but reason told him that it would be the most inappropriate thing to do at this point in time.
Little did he know that she wanted him to do precisely that. Of course, they were both far too proud and stubborn to admit this, and so they stood in companionable silence, watching the moon and its' reflection on the river.
"I was wondering if..." she said, breaking the silence and diverting his full attention straight back to her – not that most of it hadn't already been focused on her – "If you want to, tomorrow, would you like to go for lunch?".
She was pretty sure that those words had exited her mouth in a jumble – she could feel her heart beating in her chest as she waited for his response. God, why was she being like this? She did not fancy Tom Clarkson. Absolutely not. Well, at least she'd refuse to admit it to herself, anyway.
"Yeah, alright." He answered. Trying to sound casual and not desperate at a time like this was almost impossible, but he hoped upon hope that he'd succeeded.
"Great." She smiled freely, and he swore there was a hint of relief in those perfect, crystal clear blue eyes of hers. But this was Nicki. There was no way she would fall for him.
Or was there?
"Anyway," she turned, walking back to his bed and sitting down. He followed her, pretending that he was actually interested in whatever programme was on until she next spoke, "Night." She finished; her voice almost a whisper in his ear.
"Night, Nicki." He answered, as she got up and walked towards the door. He walked after her, which he told himself was not because he wanted to kiss her goodnight, but because he wanted to lock the door and double check that all was (reasonably) calm with the students.
They stood in the doorway awkwardly, and he finally decided to break the tension by kissing her on the cheek. Thank God, she didn't punch him.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek in return, and their embrace lasted for a little longer than it perhaps should have, allowing them both to enjoy the rare contact. He was pleased to discover that without her high heels, she was shorter than him by an inch or so – and she actually felt small as they released each other, her exiting from his hotel room silently, albeit with a wide smile upon her face – one matched almost exactly by him as he locked the door and turned the TV off.
Please review – I love every one of you like... I don't know, but I love you. :D
I'm sorry about how long this was – it felt like rambling to me, but everyone wants an update; so here it is, I guess. I don't want to end up churning out a tonne of rubbish though, so I won't update again until I'm happy with my next chapter.