Work Text:
“Mr. Hiddleston? Your coffee is ready.”
I glance up curiously from the electronic copy of The Man Who Would Be King I’ve been reading on my mobile while I wait. I am currently sitting inside of a small, private coffee shop in downtown Los Angeles, where I am doing some press for my most current project. I have a few minutes to spare between interviews, so I’ve opted to take the moment I have to relax before my day picks up again.
I pocket my mobile quickly as I stand up from the table to retrieve my beverage. I give the young woman working a courteous smile, offer my thanks, and take a tentative sip. It is still a little hot but I definitely need this boost. It has been an incredibly long week and I am physically exhausted.
I’ve been feeling mentally drained lately as well. Now the extra caffeine today isn’t going to do anything to change this, but I attempt to make due anyway. I settle back into my chair and open my iPhone up, intent on continuing my novel but cannot seem to make myself refocus. I know exactly why I feel the way I do.
With a sigh, I set my phone down on the small table in front of me and sip my coffee yet again. I made the mistake of reminding myself that there is a lot on my mind. I try so hard to deny it because it is much easier for me to get on with my life if I can trick myself into believing that nothing is wrong in my own mind.
I do not need to check my watch or my phone to know that it has been precisely two years, four months, one week, and five days since I last set eyes on the woman I cherish above all others in this universe. A piece of my soul stayed with Samantha Chance that day and I will not recover it until the moment I set eyes on her once again. Just to touch her, just to hold her once more… it would mend the inexplicably painful fracture that is my still beating heart.
I am, however, far too much of a coward to turn back at this point.
For the next few minutes, I sip on my gradually cooling Columbian roast and breathe steadily, trying to keep my eyes fixed forward. This particular shop is nice to visit since it is neatly tucked away and the staff is used to an array of high profile people coming in to purchase their own brand of nourishment. No one is too bothersome or intrusive, which is nice because I rather enjoy going out into the sunshine and fresh air. I cannot fathom how I could ever get through life without popping out to see the sunshine once in a while.
While I am trying so hard to revert my thoughts to something a little less crippling I hear my phone vibrate against the table. I set my coffee down and reach for it, seeing that it is a text message from Luke, reminding me that I have an interview in less than an hour. I am grateful for his consistence and I am also thankful that it is not my sister. It seems as though every time I start thinking about Samantha, Emma has some kind of odd telepathic event that inspires her to send me a message, berating me for my decisions.
I am no fool. I know how badly my sister disapproves of what I have done in the past, but I cannot go back and change anything now. It is silly to even think about what has happened, and yet my mind drifts anyway.
It does not matter what I am doing or what I have planned for the rest of the day, because these thoughts love to resurface when it is least convenient for me. I do not want to picture Samantha’s beautiful, hopeful face as she stares up at me, hoping I will make a different decision than the one I ultimately made. I cannot bear the thought of those big, delicious chocolate brown eyes as they glisten with unshed tears or the radiant, silken tendrils of her amber colored tresses that fell so easily between my fingers. I want to shut it all out before my mind wanders too much further but I cannot seem to stop it. I vividly remember making love to her, the curve of her hips, the gentle swell of her breasts, the voluptuous shape as she would writhe underneath me when I was inside of her…
I shift myself in my seat uncomfortably because I am about to become visibly excited in a public place. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force the thoughts out. I manage to rid myself of any more sexual thoughts but it leaves me with the unbearable pain that was Samantha’s last torturous look of betrayal as I stupidly turned my back on her and walked away.
I am a complete cad.
My heart aches at this but I ignore it, leaning forward to grab my coffee and my phone. I am going to get back into this novel and read if it damn well kills me. I need the distraction. I have beat myself up enough about what I’ve done in the past and as much as I hate myself for what I did, I deserve a moment of peace and happiness.
I open my eReader app back up on my phone and get right into my Rudyard Kipling novel again, trying to lose myself in its pages. I find that after a few minutes I am unable to really get into it as deeply as I was before, so with a small sigh of frustration, I set the mobile back on the table, running a hand through my hair and turning the now tepid cup over and over in my hands as I try to think of what to do next.
I smile congenially at a small group of women that walk past and remember that in forty-five minutes I have to be ready to gear up for a radio interview. Thankfully, I will not have to sit in a makeup chair for hours on end to look presentable, therefore I can enjoy these last few moments alone with my thoughts.
I go over the itinerary in my mind, trying to remember everything I have to do while I am here in Los Angeles, fixating on being punctual and precise, remembering what I can talk about and what I can’t, and the more and more I try to stay on task with my schedule, the more I start seeing glimpses of Samantha’s smiling face breaking into my ordinary thoughts like a subliminal message.
My patience grows thin with my infantile brain and I finally submit to the images and think about all of it. I think about Samantha’s body, her laugh, her smile, her tears, her words, everything about her that made her so incredibly beautiful, special, and amazing, and then I start to think about all the mistakes I have made.
Why did we even make that bargain to begin with? I feel as though we could have figured something out when it came to my career. My concern would have been if Samantha was actually ready to be in another serious relationship so soon after her divorce, but I trust she would have made the right decision about it.
I still don’t know why I didn’t just say ‘fuck it all’ and gathered her into my arms to take her to London with me. What did any of it matter? I am a man that knows what he wants and for the rest of my life, all I wanted was her and I let her slip away. After nearly two and a half years, there is no way I can expect her to still be waiting for me. How can I even expect that she is still in love with me and not furious with me for turning my back on her?
I realize, with a start, that my coffee is now almost completely finished, so I suck the last few lukewarm dregs until the cup is empty and set it down on the table in front of me. I tap my fingers, trying so hard to decide what I need to do to get my mind off of everything so that when I go in for this interview, I don’t accidentally slip and say her name or sound as though I’m emotional or trying to hide something. I really feel as though I would regret putting that small part of myself out there for the world to see. I don’t mind letting my personality show, being kind and polite like I was always taught to be, and I most certainly love my fans enough to give them small tokens of my appreciation, but this is just too personal. They cannot have Samantha if I cannot have her myself.
I sigh because for the last time, I am going to try and attempt to give myself a means of distraction. I am obviously not going to be getting back into my classic adventure novel right now, so I opt to check out the bookstore on my phone and see if there is anything new and interesting on there that I can purchase and read before I have to get going.
I tap my fingers on the table as I wait for the store to load. There is a great deal to choose from and I do not know how I could possibly make a decision in a timely enough fashion before I have to leave. As I am browsing, I notice a constantly shifting set of book covers, stating which novels are currently most popular in the young adult section. I barely give it a cursory glance before something completely unexpected and wonderful catches my eye. For just a split second, I see the dark onyx cover of a book adorned with a small crescent moon, and I don’t even have the brain power to process the title because the only thing that has jumped out at me is the author’s name; Sam Chance.
I stare at my phone like an idiot for almost a full two minutes. The book cover consistently shifts but it keeps coming back, and over and over, I remind myself that I am not seeing things. It’s as though each time it pops back up I remember that this is not a dream and that out of the ether of the universe, somehow my thoughts have made this name appear on my phone.
I know Samantha is a writer and that she had aspirations to have her young adult stories published but I never imagined I would get so lucky as to finally see her name appear in front of me.
I do not know what it means and I desperately try not to give it too much credence. The name ‘Sam Chance,’ is excruciatingly common, so this may be an absolute coincidence, designed to torture me for my indiscretions of the past. I decide to take the risk, however, and the moment it appears again, I click on it, opening up the page for the story. It asks me to purchase it but I am desperate to find out if this is my Sam Chance. When I find nothing that helps me on the app, I open up my browser and start furiously typing, looking for information about who this author truly is.
It doesn’t take long until I am directed to the publisher’s website and the page dedicated to Sam Chance. One quick click later and I notice a small, cryptic biography that I do not get too engrossed in before a picture loads on the side and I hold my breath as it shows up.
In that second, I see her breathtaking face on my phone. My heart pounds as I recognize those dark twinkling eyes, that sweet, endearing smile, and the overall light that seems to emanate from her, even in this picture. So many memories flood my consciousness that I find it almost too overwhelming.
Two and a half years later and I am finally getting this wonderful glimpse into her life. I feel, right then, that I must have done something right to have this opportunity to look upon her face again. I wish so much that I could reach through the phone to get to her, but for now, I will take this as the gift that it is and I’ll make sure to buy up any and all of her books so that I can feel close to her. Maybe somewhere in those words, I’ll hear her voice again as clearly in my ears as the week I was blessed enough to know and love her.
I jump back into my reader and purchase the book. Within a minute it is open and ready for me to read and I sigh happily, sitting back against my chair. The anxiety melts from my shoulders for now as I take the time to enjoy this treasure I’ve been given, regardless of the actions of the past. I hate to think negatively for too long at a time because it eventually poisons the soul. If ever I am to reunite with Samantha, I want to keep my soul pure and clean, just for her.
So I start the book, knowing that I may not care for the genre, but it does not matter when it is for her. I scroll past the first few pages of the book and pause, not for the first time that day, as I am about to scroll past the dedication page.
Everything, at this moment, was worth it for what I read here, because I know implicitly it was meant for me. The image of these words will be burned into my brain for the rest of my life, regardless of where we end up, together or apart, and I all at once, I am glad.
"I’d like to thank my publishers, editors, and agent, without whom none of this would be possible.
For Molly, you are an inspiration and will always be the greatest supporter of me and my dreams and I could not have gotten through these past two years without you.
And finally, for that wonderful mystery man that rescued me from my sadness, I want to tell you that you still hold a special place in my heart, and you will forever be the angel I always wished for."