He had hoped that, by the end of the week, the girl would have faded from his memory.
But there he was, almost ten days later and she still flashed through his mind in vivid technicolour.
Red, Green, Blue.
Damn.
Had he been right to leave that sonnet with her? Or had it just cemented her into his memory? Jesus, if she went public with his little love-note the papers would have a field day...
But she wouldn't, he knew. He had only met her eyes for a few seconds but it was enough. He knew. She had just been so... different. She hadn't asked for an autograph or a photo. She had barely even looked at him. It had all felt so normal.
He had originally planned to scribble meaninglessly, just to have the opportunity to look her over at close quarters but, once he put pen to paper, it had just flowed out. And then she had smiled and made him laugh. He felt like a schoolboy again.
A door closing in the next room brought him out of his daydream and he finished knotting the tie that lay around his neck. This infatuation had to stop. He was never going to see her again, so what was the point in it?
"Are you nearly ready, mate?" came the voice of his friend and publicist, Luke.
"Yes, sorry, I was miles away." Tom replied, nudging his tie into place and striding from the room to pull on his jacket.
"You have been for a while. Anything wrong?"
"No, no! Just trying to get my head around this next job. You know what it's like."
Luke laughed and, with reassurances, ushered Tom from the apartment to the waiting car outside.
You hadn't told a soul about the note.
You hadn't even mentioned your chance meeting.
Best to keep this one to yourself, you thought. You had read the note over and over till the curves and lines of his handwriting were burned irrevocably into your memory. But life had to go on, normal life, and you had sadly tucked it away into your shoebox of old letters, determined not to obsess yourself with it.
It had been a surreal, fleeting encounter. But that was all it was.
You slipped into your black skirt, tucking in the crisp white shirt and clipping on the ridiculous maroon, bow tie.
Back to reality, indeed, you thought, sighing as you pulled up your hair into a pony tail. This was going to be a horrible night at the hotel you worked in. You hated the large hospitality functions full of pretentious lawyers and bankers, that barked orders at you like it was the dark ages, or simply acted like you weren't even there.
Happily, the Tube was quiet and you got a seat, delving into 'Pride and Prejudice'. Big mistake, you soon realised, as Darcy morphed easily in your mind to Tom. Slamming it shut, you read every word on every TFL poster, distracting yourself until your stop.
Entering through the staff entrance of the hotel, you signed in and instantly met with the usual chaos that preceded a big event. It was easy to slip thoughtlessly into your work before gathering with your workmates in the staffroom for a briefing.
Your line manager began with the usual speech about 'expecting the highest standards of hospitality from everyone' and 'wanting professionalism at all times'. You allowed yourself to drift off into a daydream. You had heard every word of this before, numerous times and knew how to do your job.
"Right, let's go folks! Canapés and champagne first please!"
The bustling returned as you all moved in unison to the old ballroom where the guests had just begun to arrive. It wasn't too long before the room was utterly packed and moving around with the trays became too difficult. At this point, you grabbed a champagne bottle and began a circuit of the room, topping up glasses.
You approached a group of tuxedo-clad men who were talking animatedly and laughing. You gestured with the bottle and they gladly thrust their glasses forward.
"Top up, mate?" one of them semi-shouted, tapping his tall friend on the shoulder, who had turned away talking to someone behind them.
"Tom, mate, top up?!" he repeated, and the man finally turned, offering his glass.
"Yes, please, would love one! I..."
The words caught in his throat as he saw you, eyes widening. You felt your sharp intake of breath and wavered, desperately trying to keep yourself from dropping the bottle.
"Hello..." he murmured, obviously in shock, frozen in place as his friends looked on, silent now and confused.
"I... I'm terribly sorry..." you managed, before turning and, almost running, to the door, leaving Tom Hiddleston and his friends staring after you, bewildered.