Friends, Lovers, or Nothing

On the fourth day of July, America celebrates its independence from Great Britain. It’s the big summer holiday, and we received ample time off from filming to commemorate it. However, we didn’t get quite enough time off for Tom to go home so I invited him to Chicago.

At first he didn’t want to go. He insisted that he’d be fine staying in Los Angeles, but I knew him better than that. He was just trying to be polite and not impose on a holiday with my family. The fourth wasn’t a family holiday like Christmas – it was just a giant summer party. When I finally convinced him, I was beyond excited to show him off to my family. My heart sank a little bit, knowing how many boyfriend comments I’d have to dismiss, but he was my best friend and I wanted him around.

We got in on the third, and there was an unnatural amount of people in my home. My mom, step dad, brother, and grandmother lived there normally. My older sister and her husband, Eric, had come in from Wisconsin to stay the night. Then there was Tom and me. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but I know that we overwhelmed my mom because that night we went out for dinner.

We took two separate cars. My sister and Eric went in their own car and the rest of us piled into my mom’s navy blue Volvo XC90. Tom and I squished into the third row, which had always been my spot when we needed to use all of the seats in the car. It was impossible to hear what was going on between the first and second row in the car, so Tom stared intently out the window. I didn’t grow up in the city, but rather the suburbs so this was a place he hadn’t been before.

I was unable to stop myself from staring at him. Whenever I found men attractive, I couldn’t help but stare at them in admiration. He wore black jeans with a grey v-neck and his signature leather jacket. His legs were splayed so that his left leg was leaning against my right. The contact was enough to make me blush furiously, and I returned my gaze to my respective window. My mind wandered about until we finally pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

While we waited for the table to be set up, my grandmother came to talk to me. “Grace,” She said, catching my attention.

“Yes, Baba?” I asked. She was Czech, so we had always called her the Czech version of grandmother since she liked it better. We never learned how to speak the language, though. I knew words here and there, but I couldn’t converse in it.

“Your friend is a gentleman,” She said. “He helped you out of the car and he opens the door for us. He is very polite and can hold a conversation well. Where did you find him? The 1950’s?”

I laughed, giving her a quick hug. I had missed her and her funny comments. “He’s British, that’s the only reason I can give you.”

The hostess showed us to our table, set up with four chairs on one side and a booth bench on the other. The popular Mexican restaurant was dimly lit, buzzing with life for a Tuesday night. My grandmother sat in the first chair, then my mother. I sat next to my mom and had Tom sit on the end, hoping that would shield him from most of the awkward questions. My step dad sat across from my grandma on the booth side, my sister and Eric sat together in the middle, and my little brother Luke sat across from Tom.

The waiter was quick to get over to us with chips and salsa, getting everyone’s drink order from one side of the table before coming over to my side. “What would you like to drink?” He asked me.

“I’ll have an iced tea, please,” I smiled at him before looking to Tom.

“I’ll have the same,” He said smoothly. I giggled and he shot me a glance, smirking. He pinched softly at my side. “You’re giggly tonight,” He whispered.

The waiter moved his attention to my brother. “What would you like, buddy?”

“He’ll have a water,” I cut in. Luke looked at me with his big brown eyes, surprised that I had said his order for him.

“Hey! I order for myself now,” He folded his arms angrily, upset that he had missed an opportunity.

The waiter laughed and I smiled embarrassedly at him. “I’m sorry, bro! I forgot that you started ordering on your own.”

“Can you make sure it has a lid on it? He’s a professional spiller,” I asked the waiter. He nodded knowingly, and excused himself to fill everyone’s order. Tom gazed at me with an interested look.

“Luke has four moms,” I explained. “Me, my sister, my grandma, and our mom.”

“Ah,” Tom said, realizing what I meant.

“He was adopted when he was three days old, but he wasn’t allowed to come into the United States for three years. Then when he finally came to live here, I was already sixteen. It used to be a running joke that when we went out, I’d watch over him and see how many people thought that I was his mom. It almost made me lose my faith in humanity, how many people actually assumed I was his mom. But now it’s just a reflex. I always have my little bro’s back,” I smiled at Luke and he nodded in agreement.

“Where were you born?” Tom asked Luke. I watched their interaction carefully. I had never seen Tom around kids.

“I’m from the Philippines,” Luke said proudly. My step dad was Filipino-American, and as a family we’d all been there at least once. I’d been there more times than I could count.

Tom’s eyes lit up. “That’s incredible! I’ve never been there.”

“It’s pretty fun,” Luke scoffed. Tom continued talking with Luke, and I sat there with the dumbest smile on my face. There was literally nothing wrong with this man. He was perfect in every single way.

A draught went through the restaurant and I shivered, wishing that I'd brought a jacket. It was so unbearably hot outside, though, so I didn't think to. I chattered my teeth a little, bringing my hands to my arms and rubbing them to get warm. Tom looked at me, taking off his jacket and handing it to me.

"You look freezing," He said. I smiled gratefully at him, slipping it on. It made me feel safe. It was warm from his body heat, and it smelled like him. I shrugged into it happily.

Tom talked to all of my family members at least once during the dinner, and he had managed to win them all over. It was simply incredible. Everyone liked him. The list of people who don’t like Tom Hiddleston is probably much shorter than the list of people who do.

Luke came running up to me on the walk back to the car, hugging my side before walking alongside me and holding my hand. He may have been eight years old, but he never outgrew holding my hand especially because I had been gone a lot more often now that I was past the age of eighteen. “I like Tom,” He said curtly.

I laughed. “I think Tom likes you, too.”

“Do you have a crush on him?” He asked.

I fought the blushing as best as I could. “No, he’s my best friend. Like you’re best friends with Katelynn. People don’t think that boys and girls can be best friends, but we know they’re wrong, right?”

“Yeah, I would never kiss Katelynn. That’s gross. Did you know Tom was in The Avengers? He told me so! He said he was Loki. He doesn’t look anything like Loki, but I guess I’ll take his word for it,” Luke said, his emotions going all over the place as he said what he needed to say.

“He’s pretty amazing, isn’t he?” I said, watching him walk casually with my family like he belonged with them already. I shook my head. Why did he have to do this to me?

--

Later that night we were watching TV together in the basement, where he and I were sleeping. There was a bed leftover from when I would seek refuge from the heat of my own bedroom, and there were two couches that could be pushed together to form a makeshift bed so that we weren’t in the same bed.

I yawned, turning off the lights and shuffling to my bed while he turned off the TV. We were left in the pitch black and I was reminded of how scary it could be down there. I felt more comfortable knowing Tom was there with me.

“Grace?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, Tom,” I mumbled tiredly.

“You know how people would assume you were Luke’s mom? Do you think…people assume we’re together?” He asked hesitantly.

I was so tired that I couldn’t think of anything coherent to say. “Probably. But who cares what they think?”

He made a gruff noise and didn’t say anything else before he began snoring quietly. I lay there, wondering what the hell had gone through his mind before he fell asleep. I’d never know for sure.