Crumbs (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Meaty

A/N: These next two chapters really were a struggle for me to write, but thanks to @vintagehouse (go read her Tom fic! It's awesome), I was able to whittle it down and find what I was really looking for.  So here is one chapter, and I am going to post the second chapter either tonight or early tomorrow.  Thanks for rooting for Charlie!!

Tom and I haven’t talked for two days.  After he left the bakery the other morning, I passed the torch over to Mandy, who was a bit dumbstruck, and then I made the trek home.  I feel bad about how I treated him.  Of course, I feel bad.  I feel irrational and irritated, and like my skin was crawling.  I’m a passionate person but I pride myself on being pretty level headed.  I was not level headed that morning.  I just couldn’t get over the idea of Tom and Keegan together.  It made me physically ache.  I hate that he spent time with her.  I hate that no matter what he says, I still feel like she has a hold on him.

And let’s be honest.  Perhaps I’m jealous.  Envious of whatever it is that Keegan has that has captured his attention for so long.  He’s been with her for as long as I’ve known him, but he never saw that in me.  He thinks I’m a fantastic friend, and a lovely confidant, but I am not girlfriend material.  Not in his eyes.  I know it’s something as simple as chemical reactions or pheromones or just a matter of a slight personality difference, but it still feels like this wide, open wound in my chest.  It has a life and a mind of it’s own, and I can barely control it anymore.

My feelings for Tom at the moment are about as clear as the Chesapeake Bay…which means not at all.  When I get home from the bakery that night, my phone has a missed call and a voicemail.  It’s Mrs. Jones’ nephew.  His name is Paul and he wants to take me out to dinner Friday night.  I call him back and we have a pleasant chat.  He seems normal and well spoken, so we agree on dinner tomorrow in Baltimore, which is where he lives and works. It’s only about 30 minutes from Havre de Grace, so it’s not a difficult trip.  I like Baltimore, and it will be nice to be in a bigger city for once.

After the phone call, I get into bed, not feeling excited at all.  Shouldn’t I feel excited about a date? A date with a normal lawyer, no less.  Paul. Paul. It’s not a great name, but it’s not terrible.  He probably has responsibilities, and fun hobbies and maybe a house and a dog, and definitely not a ex-fiance named Keegan.  That’s always a plus. 

 But I feel heavy, and unhappy, and not at all like my regular old, snappy self.  As I close my eyes, it’s a bit hard to breathe.  I want to talk to Tom.  I wish I could, but now I’m pretty sure I’ve totally pissed him off.  We’ve fought before, but maybe I was wrong.  We’ve never fought like this.  What am I supposed to do? I have to live my life.  He’s living his.  If we are a scale, I feel like we’ve been equal for quite some time, and now suddenly, things seem to be offset.  I’m not sure how to tip them back, and make things feel right again.

I’m not sure going on a date is the answer.  I’m instantly reminded of one of the worst dates I’ve ever been on.  It was a few years ago, and I’d been pretty excited about it.  I’d talked about it for a week before it happened.  I’d finally made a date with a gorgeous bartender I’d been eyeing up at the local pub.  Tom had listened, laughing and egging me on the whole time, and when I’d finally gotten the guts to talk to the guy, his name was Andy, Tom had congratulated me when I’d sealed the deal with a date.  That was about as good as it got.  That date is what we now fondly call the “Roadside Assistance Date”.

****

I walked along the side of the road, gravel flicking into my shoes.  I felt like such an idiot.  After weeks and weeks of flirting with Andy at O’Rourke’s, we’d finally gone out.  The night had started okay.  He’d been a bit late for dinner, and when he’d shown up he was on his phone half the time.  I finally got him talking about his band around the end of the meal, and then the conversation had been great.  We’d talked for awhile, and I’d felt like we’d hit it off.  Go me! One for Charlie! Bagging the hot bartender!!