It couldn't be her...
"What the bloody hell was that?!"
"Do you know her, Tom?"
"Damn rude, running off like that..."
Questions and comments, exploded from the group around him. He remained unmoving, not believing his eyes.
"Tom?!" Luke yelled, moving in front of his face, "Wakey, fucking, wakey, pal! What just happened?"
"Hold this for me will you?" Tom muttered, handing Luke his empty glass.
He set off across the room at a quick pace, dodging other party-goers and pushing open one of the big, double doors. He bolted through it, ending up in a long corridor with rooms and kitchens on either side, stretching away from him.
Fuck. She could have gone anywhere.
He sighed, running both hands through his hair. Luke would kill him if he didn't return soon.
Dejected, he slowly turned.
And there she was.
Wide-eyed and silent, clutching the champagne bottle to her. Her back pressed against the door he hadn't pushed open. He must have shot right past her.
He let out a breath, and laughed.
"Hello again..."
"Hi... I am... so, so sorry for rushing out like that. I don't know what came over me."
"Oh God, no, not a problem, not a problem. Just wanted to make sure you were OK..."
"Oh, yes, I'm fine, thank you."
The silence stretched between them. God, this was awkward.
He couldn't take his eyes off her. She had lowered her gaze to the floor and was biting her lip. She was as breathtaking as he remembered. Adorable in her work uniform. He pushed away mental images of himself kissing those rose-coloured lips into a smile and running his hands over the curves of her body.
"I wonder," he began hesitantly, "would it be highly inappropriate for me to ask what you're doing after this?"
Her eyes flicked to his. He could see shock and confusion on her face.
"Um... it'll be 2am... I'll be going to bed, I think."
His eyebrow unconsciously lifted at this and she coloured slightly at the unintended insinuation of her words.
"Of course, you'll be finishing late, how silly of me."
I have to see you again though.
Unless she didn't want to see him again. The pernicious thought surged in his brain. Had the sonnet been unwelcome attention? Was he her type? Did she have a boyfriend? Was she even straight?
You don't know anything about this girl, Tom. Not even her name.
Her silence stretched in front of him. She looked so uncomfortable. Sighing, he resolved to return to the party. He wouldn't pursue her further if she was disinterested in him.
"Well, I won't keep you." he said kindly, a sad smile on his face that went nowhere near his eyes, "It was lovely to see you again though, even just once."
His hand went to the door next to her, about to push through when something stopped him. The delightful pressure of her own hand on his arm. She had turned to face him, though her eyes were trained on the contact between them.
"I... I'm free tomorrow." came her whisper.
And she looked up at him, face breaking into a shy smile.
You weren't free tomorrow, but you bloody well would be.
You practically begged your friend Sarah to take your shift. It was only after promises of chocolate and wine and all things tasty that she relented, though a little put out that you wouldn't tell her why.
The rest of your shift had flown by, his eyes following you around the room as you worked. Mercifully, he didn't seem to mind the bow-tie.
You had arranged to meet under the willow tree again and go from there. The day was a little cooler than it had been and you'd struggled to decide what to wear.
You'd ended up in your favourite pair of skinny jeans, cuffed to show your ankles, your soft, cream brogues and a matching cream button-down in a thin floaty material, that skimmed loosely over your curves. You'd flung your black blazer over the whole thing, wound a green, muslin scarf round your neck and bolted for the Tube before you had a chance to make yourself late.
You sat there now, back flush against the tree with your book in your lap. You were pretending to read, but instead were internally panicking about seeing him again. Was this a date? Were you under-dressed? What would you even find to talk about?
"Excuse me miss, is that book causing you trouble?"
You jumped, looking up at his smiling face from behind the tree, where he'd snuck up on you, and laughed, breathily.
"It's just, you looked so concerned," he dropped to sit by your side, "I thought I should intervene before things got too serious."
Obviously, your worry had been painted all over your face.
You sighed dramatically.
"My hero!"
He laughed then and held out his hand.
"I apologise for my terrible manners. I haven't even introduced myself. Tom."
You gave him your name and shook his hand, light-headed at the contact.
"It's nice to properly meet you as opposed to chasing you across a ballroom like Cinderella." he grinned.
"Oh God, I'm sorry!" you cringed, "I just never expected to see you again and it was such a shock!"
"You're telling me.." he muttered, his smile softening as he gazed deeply into your eyes.
You fumbled over your words, trying to get them out, but struggling against the deep blue pools of his stare. His eyes unconsciously dropped to your lips and you found the strength to tear yourself back to the present.
Had he been about to kiss you?
"So, what would you like to do today? I'm guessing the tourist traps aren't your thing?"
He smiled... God, that smile... and sniggered as he replied;
"Ha! No, not any more anyway! I know a quiet little café round the corner. Cup of tea? My treat."
"How could I resist?" you giggled.
As he helped you to your feet, you hope he didn't realise you were only half kidding.
She was intoxicating.
He hung on every word that she spoke, watching her face light up when she talked animatedly about something she loved. The way she looked at him as he talked, interested in what he had to say instead of just, simply, him.
They had stayed there, in that small, secluded café, for hours. The awkwardness that plagues the start of every 'first date' had melted the moment they sat down and began to talk. Ages and birthdays were exchanged. Very different childhoods described. She had told him about how she'd ended up in London, he told her about the play he was about to start rehearsing for at the Donmar. She loved Shakespeare. So did he. She knew that already. How?
Please don't have 'Googled' me... please don't be that girl...
"Your note..." she'd said, shyly dipping her head to her cup of tea as she recalled the words of the sonnet.
He sighed, almost in relief.
Oh yes... the note.
"I have to say, it was very unexpected! Welcome... but unexpected. I still don't understand why you'd give it to me!"
She was giggling now, trying to cover her shyness. An ache inside him snapped.
"You just seemed to personify it that day. I couldn't take my eyes off you."
"Oh..." she blushed.
Carefully, he reached and took her chin in his hand, bringing her to face him. Her eyes were lowered to his lips. They were so close now.
"You took my breath away by not trying to take my breath away. I never wanted to tell someone how beautiful they were in my life."
You shouldn't be doing this in public, you shouldn't be doing this in public, you shouldn't be doing this in...
His thoughts ceased as her sapphire eyes blinked up to his, forehead creased in disbelief at his words.
Falteringly, the words whispered from her;
"You think I'm beautiful?"
And with her admission of modesty, he threw all caution to the wind and allowed himself to die a thousand small deaths as his lips softly met hers.