The It Girl

There was an odd woman at the bar who kept tossing looks towards his table. She was cute, but her constant staring would begin to get into his nerves if she didn't stop it soon. He tried to ignore it, but there she was at it again, staring up a storm in his table. Tom finally looked at her, and something snapped in him. Not the bad kind of snap, but the kind where you know something's missing but can't really pinpoint what it is and then when you finally, actually find it, you realize that it's been missing. It's like that. The woman's brown hair with the glints of gold and her sun-kissed lightly tan skin that he could easily recognize from miles away was the twig that snapped.

Eight years, has it been? Probably a little more. Everything that had happened in the past two years mumbled around in his brain and it felt as if his life was twice as long now with all the things he's seen and done during his staggering career. But surely, it had been a long time.

"Tom, what are you looking at?" Colin asked worriedly before turning in his seat to follow Tom's gaze. He looked at the girl in a charcoal gray peacoat looking quite embarrassed to be caught before she blundered around her coat pockets and took out her mobile phone. Colin rolled his eyes and turned back to his boss. "Probably going to text her friends that she's seen you. Do you want to get this on take-away before they realize you're here?"

Tom wasn't listening. He kept staring at her. She was there; actually, physically there. He could touch her if he wanted to, but that would be a gross portrayal of inappropriate behavior and he didn't want to invoke that. Especially after he hadn't seen her in such a bloody long time.

"Are you okay? Do you know her?" Colin questioned, leaning forward in the table.

Tom gulped, finally ready to speak. "Th-that's Gemma Fairfax. I know her! She and I used to be great friends during uni together."

Colin looked visibly relieved. Ok, old friends are a green light. "Right, well. Do you want to say hi to her or something?"

Tom looked at his assistant, thinking about that. He was seriously thinking if he should go up and say hi. It had been such a long time since he last talked to her and nothing could register in his mind as a reason why they had suddenly stopped communicating with each other. They were such great friends during their time at Cambridge, what happened?

He nodded. "I think I should."

However, it took longer that he thought he would take. He sat back in his seat, watching as the woman hunched over her mobile phone, pounding on the screen keyboard like a madwoman. Tom's expression changed rapidly and seamlessly from intrigued to yearning to crushed and then to determination. Finally, after a moment of sitting back and silently strategizing his pathway to her, Tom cleared his throat.

Colin watched as Tom got up and straightened his leather jacket and smoothed out any creases in the cotton shirt he wore underneath it. Unaware, he also combed his fingers through his hair, a clear sign to Colin that showed how suddenly nervous Tom was with this girl. They could possibly be more than great friends, considering his sudden change in attitude.

Her back was turned to him, and Tom started to feel inexplicably light-headed, but he remained calm and collected. How should he approach her? Should he just tap her on the shoulder and ask her politely if she was exactly who he thinks she is? Or probably just strike up some cheeky small talk with her until she cracks and remembers him?

As he neared her, he heard the bartender say something to her before he walked away to attend to a group of people at the end of the bar counter. Instantaneously, the woman turned around. Tom drew a breath and his heart beat began to pound so desperately against his rib cage, aching to be free of the constrains and fall to the floor.

"Gemma, hi," he breathed out. He quavered a small smile, trying his hardest not to grin so widely. But the effort was futile; his grin got the best of him and split his face into two.

Gemma could only stare. She remained wide-eyed and eerily dazed, but it was no doubt her. This is Gemma. Tom's Gemma.

"Tom!" She blurted out after her initial perplexity. Gemma began to catch onto his smile as she jumped out of her seat and throw her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her. She smelled so awfully sweet; like apples or candy. "What are you doing here?"

"I was out having dinner with my assistant, Colin," he answered, gesturing to Colin who sat back at the booth, watching the two old friends reconnect. Gemma looked over at him and he waved. She smiled politely, nodding in acknowledgment. Gemma's eyes flickered back to Tom's, which glittered under the haze of the pub lights.

"I'm sorry if I freaked you out or something," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I swore you looked familiar and - "

"No, it's fine," Tom cut in. "If you hadn't looked my way we probably would have never met. This is so mad. Brilliant, but mad! How are you?"

Gemma's phone vibrated suddenly, a new text popping up in the lockscreen. She quickly paused to look at it, before returning her attention to Tom. She chuckled. "I don't think one sentence can even sum up the entirety of how I've been."

Tom nodded, smiling at her. "True," he said, before looking back at Colin. He asked her, "Look, are you busy tonight? Or any other night?"

Her breath hitched. This couldn't be happening. In the oddest coincidences of her lifetime, this surely had to be the top of her charts. Earlier, she had wallowed over the phone to Elsa about how Tom had just broken up with his celebrity ex-girlfriend and had pondered deeply on the idea of ever seeing him again, but now. Now was something so strange and so different, it almost scared her.

And by God did it scare her so much that Gemma suddenly didn't care what would happen next.

"Sure," she answered him. "I've got all the time in the world to catch up with you."

Tom paused to stare at her. It was theatrical, no less, but it was indeed a genuine move on his side simply because it was actually her. Tangible, existent Gemma Catherine Fairfax. He calculated the years apart and easily deduced that she was around 27, a year or two older than Colin his assistant. Though the years had gone by, he was comforted by the fact that she was still the same girl he met at Cambridge. All her years spent doing whatever she was doing, going to different countries (last he heard of her was that she was in a trip to India) had not weathered her distinct affability. Tom could only gape at her in awe.

"Sorry, mate," a pub patron muttered after accidentally bumping into Tom as he staggered on his way to the loo at the back. Tom snapped back to reality.

"Gemma," God, was it so odd saying her name in address. "Why don't you join Colin and I?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother your special date," Gemma joked. She winced mentally, scolding herself for making jokes too soon in a time like this. He had just broken up with his girlfriend for the love of God.

Luckily for her, whether or not he was just being nice, Tom laughed. "No, it's fine. I'm sure you know the effects of being caught in public having dinner alone with a young man."

"It's not that bad," Gemma said. "But to save you from your misery, I guess I have no choice but to join you."

Tom grinned and led her to their booth where she slipped inside on the seat across Colin. Tom got into the booth and sat next to her.

"Colin, this is Gemma," he told Colin. His assistant reached over the table to shake her hand. Gemma did so, feeling such soft hands for a grown man like Colin. "And this is Colin."

"Pleasure to meet you," Colin said with a big smile. Tom didn't seem too surprise to see Colin light up gradually at Gemma. The first time he met her, he could have nearly confessed his undying love to her. Well, sort of. Thank God for Elsa.



He was playing rugby with a group of his closest mates. That included a boyfriend of Elsa's who went to Pembroke with him. Gemma and Elsa were enrolled at the nearby Newnham, so any interaction with the male population of Cambridge was only possible by a direct network to the boys, or by watching the shirtless lads of Pembroke or Darwin sweat over a leather ball at the playing fields - and then following suit with a lager at The Anchor, a favorite pub of the students.

Throughout Gemma's time at uni, however, she had never crossed paths with Tom. It wasn't surprising either; Cambridge was a huge school. But with a "drama freak" like Tom who spent his time at the school theaters and with Gemma touring the country of Anglican and Roman style architecture, the two were bound to their own dimensions. It was at that insignificant Saturday afternoon in 2003 - Tom had ditched play rehearsals for once and Gemma left the studio for a bit of fresh air with Elsa - that their entirely different worlds intersect.

"My God, who is he?" Gemma asked, leaning back on her elbows on the grass. Her gaze never left one of the boys on the field. He was hard to miss, really. His height was a collosal 187 meters and his curly blonde locks bounced up and down as he bustled across the field like little children hanging onto his head. Gemma snorted at the image of actual children hanging onto his head. But there was something very arousing about this young man. The wind was blowing and he had that kind of look that was perfect for a Sugababe music video. She secretly wondered if he smelled like summer.

"Too skinny," Elsa replied, following Gemma's stare. "But he does look like he'd just come back from living in California for its surf and shore."

After watching that pick up game of rugby, Elsa and Gemma got up to leave, citing a huge quiz for Intro to English Classics to study for.

"Hold up, babe," Elsa's then-boyfriend Will caught up to her just as the two girls were leaving. "One of the lads want to meet Gemma."

Elsa looked at Gemma, raising her eyebrows then looked over Will's shoulder to find the same tall bloke that Gemma was just eyeballing earlier looking at their direction.

"I think I have an idea," she whispered to Gemma optimistically. She turned back to Will, nodding expectantly at him and silently summoning for Gemma's new admirer. Will waved over to the guy that was just looking at the trio who, by now, was conversing with a nearby group of friends so as to assumedly not look anymore awkward than what is accepted in normal society. He caught Will's gesture from the corner of his eye and patted his friends on the shoulders before jogging up to Elsa and Will. Gemma stayed behind them, almost as if in hiding, in order to get a good look at him before they were actually introduced.

To put it shortly, he was the sexiest thing on campus.

"This is my girlfriend, Elsa, and this," Will stepped aside to include Gemma into the mix. "This is the ever so lovely Gemma."

He turned to look at her. "Gemma, this is Tom. He's in his second year at Pembroke."

"Pleasure," Gemma said cordially as she and Tom shook hands.

"Definitely," replied Tom. His voice was deep, but not as deep as most of the boys Gemma had gone out with. It was smooth and airy, however, and it was probably one of the most beautiful non-singing voices she's personally heard.

"Tom's been saying how we never get good looking birds watching from the sidelines," Will joked, to which Elsa punched him on the arm. Tom painted up a faux-annoyed expression and chuckled with Will. "But lo and behold, Elsa and dear Gemma have showed up, contrary to Tom's belief."

"I know," said Elsa. "We're usually always someone's catch of the day. Or, well, at least Gemma is. She's single, did you know that?"

Gemma froze and blushed fervently. Ok, now Elsa was just pushing it.

"Are you guys headed somewhere?" Tom asked them, but his eyes remained on Gemma.

"We were supposed to go back and study," said Gemma. Elsa wanted to interject and say that that could easily be avoided, but she stayed silent. There was a flicker of disappointment in Tom's eyes, though he kept on smiling.

"Right, well, I shouldn't stop you two," he remarked. "But I do hope to meet you again."

"In the near future, hopefully," said Gemma.

"I hope the 'near future' is tomorrow," Tom blurted out, too quickly. Gemma's smile fell flat and Will bit his lip, trying to stop himself from laughing out loud.

"Now, slow down there, Eager McBeaver," Elsa jeered. "She'll see you when she sees you."

Tom fidgeted uncomfortably and it was probably the first time Gemma had ever seen a grown man blush.

"I'll see you - soon," Gemma offered.

For a minute, Tom deflated. Girls always spoke so wistfully; giving hope only to let you down. If she was going to disappoint him, might as well do it now. He opened his mouth to say one more thing to her, but Gemma merely smiled at him. "I promise."



"... and I've got a secretary of my own. But shes absolutely ghastly." Gemma paused. "Though I supposed that's mainly because she's been having an affair with Mr. Haynes right up until he was fired and stripped of his privileges. Of which included the privileges of having an affair with your secretary, I suppose."

She looked at Colin and then at Tom, who both seemed to be sitting quietly, marveling at how she just never seemed to shut up.

"I'm sorry," she quickly apologized. "Tom knows I tend to waffle on about everything that is available at my disposal." She glared at him. "But he seems to be doing nothing about it."

"You can't blame me," he laughed, resting his chin on his hand. "I miss hearing you talk."

Gemma gripped her glass of rum and coke on the table, trying her hardest to not make direct eye contact with Tom Hiddleston. She was utterly embarrassed that a grown woman like her still flustered under his illustrious gaze and even more lustrous voice. She had spent nearly half an hour bleating on about coming back to London to work for a small company, how some of her work was featured in a well-respected architectural publication, and how she was ultimately chosen as a major partner in a huge architectural firm. Basically, her life was going great even if she wasn't billboard famous like Tom. Though, he hadn't even said a thing about his shot to fame. Besides, Gemma needn't to know the exact details; she had been following him ever since she came home to see his face on the telly for a trailer of an American movie about a huge man with a hammer.

"Anyway," Colin intercepted. "Gemma, how long have you known Mr. Hiddleston?"

Gemma's eyes wondered, thinking about it for a minute. "Probably eight or nine years."

"Really? That long? It honestly seemed shorter than that," Tom commented.

"Don't forget all those years we've stopped talking to each other."

Tom lingered on that sentence for a minute. "And when was the last time we ever did talk to each other?"

Gemma looked at Colin, wondering if it was best to start getting really personal with him around. Tom and her friendship had been, in fact, a little more than something else. And that something else was far too intimate to discuss in front of a stranger. It's not like they were ever "together" in the way that most heterosexual university students of the opposite sexes were when the sexual attraction was strong, but they had something. Whatever it was. It didn't really have a name nor was it any easier to try to explain it. Some could define it as a close friendship, but both Tom and Gemma understood that there was another level deeper beneath being just best friends.

"I'll let you do the calculations yourself," she said, chuckling in a sort of coy way which may or may not have been a failed attempt of hers to be cute. It wasn't all that cute, actually. But Tom did catch onto her little glance at Colin and quickly understood.

Tom shrugged playfully, but remembered to keep that thought in the back of his mind if ever he should find himself alone with Gemma. "How's Elsa?" he asked.

"She's fantastic - " Gemma suddenly remembered she hadn't replied back to her text. "She's actually engaged now."

Tom brightened up. "Well, isn't that splendid? Don't tell me it's old Willy, is it?"

"No, they broke it off right after graduation. Her fiance is actually Matthew Pearce, you know, that famous solicitor from the Morwick trials."

"Oh, yes, I've heard of him," Tom nodded. "Wow, she's marrying him? Honestly, she could do better than Mr. Pearce."

Gemma wrinkled her nose. "That's Elsa for you. Always rooting for the underdog."

"And you?" Tom asked slowly. There it was. The big elephant had finally been addressed.

"Erm," Gemma took a sip of her drink. "No... no one, actually."

There suddenly was an irksome silence. Both Tom and Gemma took to staring at her drink, watching the coolness perspire around the glass. Colin cleared his throat.

"Er, sir, hate to be a spoilsport on your reunion, but your mum has been calling my mobile at least 15 times since we got here."

Tom gave an embarrassed smile to Gemma. "I guess leaving the mobile at home isn't enough to escape the vigilante mother of mine."

"And," Colin added. This time, he glanced quickly at Gemma the same way she uneasily looked at him earlier. "Erm..." He gave Tom his smartphone to view the number on the screen.

Regina.

Tom stiffened.



Elsa was probably asleep by now, as Gemma would have thought. She was almost a married woman, and like all married women past their quarter life, maturity and civil domesticity will begin to take their toll on one's being. Therefore, Gemma opted out of replying back to her best friend's text to "buy him a drink, spellbound him with your shitty jokes, and bring him up to your flat for a damn. good. shag."

Ok, maybe not all the maturity and civil domesticity has affected Elsa just yet.

It was nearly midnight on that Tuesday night and the entire pub had gone almost quiet, save for the low drone from the television above the bar. Jimmy sat behind it, going over the inventory of drinks, and the old Wainsworth couple had left ages ago. Gemma sat alone in the booth, her glass now empty. A couple other pub patrons sat at another booth away from hers and they, too, were quiet. Tom and his assistant, Colin, stepped out to make an important call to Tom's mum. They need not to go outside, though, in case some passerby recognized Tom. It must have been a very important and personal call, Gemma supposed. She mused lazily if she should just go off to Bedforshire; she was getting a tiny bit tired. Tom, with his unpredictable schedule (Gemma couldn't fathom what people like Tom or his ex-girlfriend did on a normal basis when they weren't shooting a film or program), probably could sleep in and not worry if he had to do go to work in the morning because his movie just earned him another 2 million quid over the weekend.

Outside the pub, Colin sat on the pavement as Tom paced back and forth as he stared at his own mobile phone, Regina's contact number waiting to be pressed and dialed.

"You don't have to give her a ring, sir," Colin advised."I mean, we could go back home and call it a night."

Tom saw Colin yawn and he suddenly felt guilty for keeping him. "You're right. You can go on back." He tossed Colin his car keys, which he failed to catch. Colin picked it up.

"Sir?"

"My best bloody friend from eight or nine years ago is in there," Tom proclaimed, gesturing wildly to the entrance of the pub. "I'm definitely not going to leave her altogether. You heard her; we haven't talk to each other in such a long time and what are the bloody odds of meeting her after so long?"

There was some truth that Tom had left out exponentially. He had an inkling that maybe he would bump into her here. After all, how else would he have found out about such an underrated pub-slash-eatery like Paulo's Nine Hands that was tucked away in a forgotten yet affluent street in Islington? The last time he had been here with Gemma was the spring before they parted ways; hope only granted that he would see her again at this very spot.

Colin pushed himself off the sidewalk and dusted the bottoms of his trousers. There was no use in talking Tom out of anything anymore.

"Right, I'm going to be off now," he stared at Tom's keys in his hands. "But how, er, are you going to get home?"

Tom blinked, not speaking. Colin, too, looked at Tom.

"Oh no," he gasped. "No, no, no, no!"

"What?" said Tom

"You're mad! Not at a time like this!" Colin exclaimed. "You can't be on the pull! Not right now at least!"

Tom gaped at Colin's disgruntled state. He burst out laughing. The undeniably distinct cackle of Tom's had suddenly become a nuisance to Colin and he scowled deeply.

"I honestly don't know how you got that idea," Tom began, wiping the corner of his eyes. "But, she's only a friend. I don't want to get involved. Especially not with Gemma."

Colin didn't immediately understand, but once again he resigned. He was hired as an assistant - his job entitled him to make calls for Tom, schedule his appointments, book his flights, and yes, pick up his coffee. The babysitting part and making sure he didn't get into anymore tabloid-ready scandals? Well, they'd better rise his pay if he was going to do any of that.

"Here," Tom handed Colin's smartphone back to him, ignoring the missed call from Regina. She'll probably ring again anyway. "I'll take a cab home. I might get pissed anyway to drive."

Colin stared at the phone in his hands. "But you don't have a mobile on you. How am I supposed to ring you up to check if you're alright?" The worry's back. He honestly couldn't help it anyhow.

"I'll borrow Gemma's if I need anything."

Tom waved Colin off, like a teenager waving his parents away right before he had the privilege of having an entire house to himself. Colin groaned but turned to walk down the street to get a cab. When he finally disappeared behind a corner, Tom trudged back up the steps of the pub.