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ediths · 4 years

Text

Bad Reputation

Pairing: Frat!Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 11,573

Summary: You meet Tom at the coffee shop that you work at, and you never think you’ll see him again, but the world seems to be on your side.

Warning(s): mentions of sex, I think the word hell is used (i don’t think there are any other bad words), some self doubt by the reader, frat!tom (yes, that’s a warning hehe), mentions of tom being a boxer oops, it wasn’t edited (my wife was gonna help me edit it bUT i started overthinking and decided to just post it :))

A/N: This is officially the longest one shot I have ever written. This is for @t-holland2080 ‘s summer writing challenge. I never thought I was going to get it done, there was a lot of writing and deleting and questioning, but here we are! I hope everyone enjoys, and as always, feedback is highly appreciated!!

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You were stressed, to say the least. Today had been a busy day and it was only getting worse. Working at the coffee shop on campus had its perks, sure. Like having some extra cash and getting free coffee. But it also had its downsides. It was always busy. Some days, like today, even more so. A lot of the students were absolute jerks and couldn’t bother to wait more than thirty seconds to get their drink when it obviously took longer than that to make, and every one of them always had something snarky to say or a loot to throw you to let you know just how ridiculous it was that you couldn’t snap your fingers and the drink be done.

To say you were having a bad day was an understatement. You had opened the store, today being one of the only days when you had no classes, so you could work for longer, which meant that you had gotten up at five this morning so that you could get ready and be at the shop by six. Every person that you had greeted seemed to be in a hurry, hurtling snide comments at you over and over. It seemed to be the busiest day of the week, even though it was nowhere close to the weekend.

And to top it off, another customer just walked in. Thankfully, he took his time walking up to the register, spent a little while gazing at the sweets arranged in cases around the room. When he finally did make his way to you, he flashed you a bright smile.

“What can I get you today?” You ask, going through the motions.

“Hmm, can I just get a regular coffee, love?” He’s still got that heart stopping smile on his face, and you can’t help but give him a real smile back.

“Sure, will that be all for today?” You ask, wanting to put the order through so that it will get done faster, just in case he is in a rush. It’s just a black coffee, so all you have to do is pour it into a cup, but you’ve had multiple impatient people get upset over it taking you “too long” to pour it.

He wants to say no, wants to say that he wants your number too. He thinks you’re beautiful, and he secretly really wants to tell you that. He wants to let you know that he saw you through the shop window and that he only came in here because of you. He wants to tell you that he secretly hates black coffee but it’s the cheapest option and he had to buy something to talk to you.

But he says none of those things, doesn’t want to come off strong. He’s never seen you before, after all. He doesn’t know who you are, if you’re the kind of girl that would want to even give him the time of the day. If you’re the kind of girl that gave any boy the time of day.

So he settles for saying, “Yeah, that’ll be all,” he looks at your name tag, “y/n.”

You tell him the price and go to pour his coffee as he swipes his card. Once you’re done, you struggle to put a lid on it; trying, and failing, to not get coffee onto your hands.

You quickly wipe the slight spill off of the cup, not wanting him to get anything on his hands, and then hand him the cup, thanking him and wishing him a nice day.

Once he leaves the store, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. He was cute, really cute actually. And he looked like a nice enough guy. You don’t know how you’d never seen him around before, knowing that there’s no way you had, you’d remember a face like that.

Apparently, you wouldn’t remember a face like that. Not until he ordered coffee from you, anyway.

You went to your English class the next day, hoping that the lecture wouldn’t make you want to rip your hair out. When you sit down in your normal seat, a place near the middle, but a little closer to the back, you see him.

You can’t believe you had never noticed him. You had noticed every other person that he was sitting with. They were all the guys that came into class late every Friday morning because they were too hungover to get to class on time. They were the frat boys.

Did that mean…? No, it couldn’t. He didn’t look like the rest of the frat boys.

But he fit right in, really. He was perfectly in place in their group. Honestly, it looked like they all watched what he was doing, following whatever he did, almost as soon as he did it. It was like they were waiting for his instruction. You had heard the rumors, they only did that with the head of the fraternity, Tom Holland.

But no, that would mean that he was Tom Holland.

Even though you heard continuous rumors about the way that he partied, got blackout drunk, slept with random girls, and then never called them again, you had never once seen the infamous face of Tom Holland.

And nobody questioned it when you told them. You weren’t the kind of girl that would know who he is. You’re not the kind of girl that goes to parties every chance they get and hooks up with the first guy that you can get your hands on.

If your assumptions were correct, however, he had been right under your nose this whole time, you had just never paid attention to him.

He had been looking for you, had been trying to find your face in the sea of others the entire day. He had absolutely no luck doing so, though, seeing as apparently, you were nowhere to be found.

He even tried to ask about you, but according to everyone that he knows, you don’t exist. And if you do, you don’t go to school with him. But he’s determined. He will see your stunning face again, experience your heart warming smile one more time, at least.

For the time being, however, he’s trying to push the thought out of his mind, knowing full well that he has to focus on whatever his English professor is going to drone on and on about today.

Once he had turned in slightly in his seat to see where Harrison was, though, there was absolutely no chance that he would be paying attention to anything but you.

You were right there, you had been right under his nose this whole time and he had spent so much time trying to actively ignore everything to do with English that he completely overlooked you, the prettiest girl that he had ever seen.

Your eyes were downcast, looking at the notebook that you had brought to class. Yeah, you seemed like the type of girl that would rather hand write notes than type them.

Your cheeks and your ears were tinged pink and he couldn’t help but wonder what made you blush, but then you looked up and met his gaze, and every thought left his mind. He could do nothing but stare back at you like a fool until Harrison finally walked in, sitting down beside him and nudging him with his elbow.

“Who’re you looking at, mate?” The blonde asked.

“Nobody.” Tom quickly replied, not wanting to have to listen to his best friend nag him about being enamored about a girl that he had only talked to once. And it wasn’t even a real conversation, he just ordered coffee from you, there was no flirting, there was no getting to know each other. The only things that either of you had learned was that he ordered just black coffee when he drank it and that you worked at the campus coffee shop.

You tried to sit through the rest of class as if you hadn’t just, maybe, held full eye contact for like a whole minute with the head of the biggest frat on campus. But really, he’s all you could think about. You were usually pretty good at not getting distracted during class, at not having to worry about whether or not you missed something because you were lost in your own head. But today, you probably zoned out and missed over half the lesson.

This was crazy, right? No person should be this intrigued by a person that they’ve only talked to once and seen only twice, should they?

If it was crazy, though, you were completely embracing it. There was something about this boy, something about Tom, that was messing with your mind. You weren’t the kind of person to believe in soulmates, but you did believe that the universe brought people together. You believed that there was a reason for everything. Which means that there had to be a reason for Tom to have walked into the coffee shop that you worked in, on the day that you needed a little brightness the most. There had to be a reason that he was in your class, that your paths had crossed yet again.

He never paid attention to the things happening around him while he was in class. He had never before paid the slightest bit of attention to the people that would filter in through the doors. But ever since he saw you in his English course, he started paying attention. And he realized that he had two other classes with you, his history course and his biology course.

He saw you every time that you had class with him, but he never had the guts to walk up and just talk to you. He had never had that problem before, usually going up to any girl he thought was attractive and sweet talking her into the palm of his hand in a matter of minutes.

Something about you was different, though. There was something about you that made him almost scared to just walk up to you. The fear of rejection when thinking about you was high, and that wasn’t something that he had felt in a long time.

It was almost like he felt that you were too good for him. He felt like you were too innocent, too pure to be bothered by him.

He was the resident fuckboy on campus, and there was no way that someone like you, someone that he had never seen at a party, or at any other social event, would want to be around him.

There’s no way that he’s anywhere near good enough for you. He thought that if he walked up to you and asked you anything, you’d scoff in his face and then walk away.

So, he doesn’t go up to you. He doesn’t talk to you. Doesn’t ask about your day, about your favorite subjects, about what your dreams are. And he sure as hell doesn’t ask you what he really wants to, for you to go on a date with him.

It had been a few weeks since you had seen him last, always making sure to get to class super early so you could sit closer to the front, not wanting to be too distracted in the classes that you had with him.

You have to admit, though, that you had spent many hours in your dorm room, debating on whether or not you should go out to one of the frat parties that you knew Tom would be at. Ultimately, you decided against it, knowing that you’d just make a fool out of yourself, showing up to a party in which you weren’t invited to see a boy that probably hasn’t thought about you since you gave him his receipt.

You had all but given up on him, realizing that the chances of ever even talking to him again was slim to none, and hoping for anything more than that was absolutely ludicrous.

So, pushing him to the back of your mind, you walked from your dorm to the library. For the first time in what felt like years, you didn’t search the faces that you passed by, you didn’t hope that one of them would be him, and you didn’t feel disappointed to not run into him.

You made it to the library just in time to say goodbye to your favorite librarian, Joan, before she left for the day. She wished you a good evening and then went on her way, shooting you a warm smile as you entered the rows of books that could all be used for reference on the essay that your English professor had assigned.

He hates essays. He really, truly does. He would rather do literally any other type of assignment than an essay. But here he was, walking into the library to search through numerous research articles just to find a sentence or two that he could use for his 5 page, minimum, essay that was due in less than a week.

He trudges over to the shelves, knowing which books that he needs to grab, but not really looking forward to doing so.

Right before he gets to the aisle he's about to wander down, he sees you. The girl that he’s been paying more than enough attention to since the day he walked into the coffee shop that he had never been to before. The girl he had been too scared to go up to and just simply talk to.

Until now.

He finally had a reason to go up and talk to you. He hated essays. He was complete trash at them. He always failed them no matter how hard he tried.

But you didn’t. You always did great on your essays. He knew you did, not because he was paying a weird amount of attention to you, it’s just that after he realized who you were, he started remembering some of the times that you had been there, but he just didn’t notice you. Some of these times were when every single time the professor would pass back essays, he would ask for yours back for ‘example pieces.’

So he cautiously made his way to you, walking slow to see if anyone was with you that would pop up. Thankfully, nobody did, so he walked the last couple steps to the table you had chosen as your study area and put his hands on the back of the chair opposite of you.

You look up and a wrinkle automatically comes between your brows, one that he can’t help but want to smooth with his fingertips.

“Can I help you?” You ask after he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just standing there.

“Um, yeah. I- you have Professor Stephens for English, right?” He tries to keep his eyes locked on you, but he can’t, can’t help but let his eyes wander over your features. The way that your eyebrows are furrowed and your forehead continues to be pinched, still confused as to why he’s here. The way that your cheeks seem to be a natural rosy pink. The way that your lips look so effortlessly full.

“Yeah, why?” He’s beginning to think that this was a bad idea. He had been right when he first thought it, there’s no way that someone like you could even want to be around someone like him. But it was too late to back out now, so he continued the plan that he had conjured up with the two brain cells that he had left.

“So, um, feel free to say no, of course. No pressure or anything.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Just, you see, the thing is, I’m awful at essays. I try my best and still fail, and every time we do one, the Professor always keeps yours for examples when he does them next year. So, basically, I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna help me write mine?”

You look taken aback for a moment before agreeing, nodding your head and telling him which dorm was yours.

“Um, do you maybe want me to give you my number so that you can text when you’re available?” You ask him, and he tries his best to not let his face light up too much, but he definitely feels his stomach flip at the thought, even though you’re not even doing anything but trying to make study plans with him.

He says a quick thank you and a goodbye before promising to text you the next day as soon as he was done with his frat duties.

Why you had agreed at all, let alone so easily, was a mystery to you. What could he possibly want out of this? Yeah, he seemed like he worked a lot harder and paid a lot more attention than the majority of the other frat boys, but he was still one nonetheless, which means that he had to be up to no good.

Did he want you to just write your paper for him? Was that why he was asking?

A small part of you wants to believe that maybe he asked you because he had been feeling the same way that you have been. But that’s crazy. He’s the most wanted frat boy on campus, there’s no way that he’d want anything to do with you.

He was just trying to get his paper done. Whether he was trying to get you to do it or if he just wanted help like he said, you weren’t completely sure yet. But you knew one thing, you had to clean your dorm before he came over.

You rushed back to your place, throwing things where they belonged and hanging up the clothes that you had neglected for days.

You’re not entirely sure why you’re freaking out so much, trying to get your dorm as close to spotless as possible. It wasn’t like you needed to impress him. You were a uni student. You weren’t expected to be perfect, to be spotless. Yet, you still felt the need to make sure everything was perfect for him.

And that’s when you remember the cute little cafe that you had been dying to go to. Every review said that it was perfect for studying, and that the food there was amazing.

So, when Tom texted you that evening to make sure that you had his number, you responded telling him that when he was finished the next day to shoot you a text and then meet you at the cafe.

You’re relieved when he agrees, that place being a lot less personal, a lot less intimate than your dorm room, making you feel much more comfortable.

The next day, he texts you around noon, telling you that he’ll be able to meet at two at the cafe that you had suggested.

He’s more excited than he should be, especially since this is just a meeting for you to help him with the most atrocious thing that English professors can assign. But he can’t help it, it’s you. He gets excited every single time that you glance in his direction.

He rushed back to the frat house, taking a thorough shower and picking out a nice button down and a pair of dark jeans. The outfit was nice, he dressed to impress, but not like he was going to a formal dinner or anything.

This was just a study session. Nothing more.

The thought wasn’t getting his emotions in check like it should. Hell, he shouldn’t even have any emotions going into it. He had talked to you a grand total of two times. He shouldn’t feel like he had been pining over you for an absurd amount of time when he had known of your existence for approximately a month.

He shouldn’t feel like he had been pining over you at all. He was Tom Holland, for goodness sake. He wasn’t the guy that caught feelings. Everyone knew that.

But there was something about you, something about the way that you smiled at him, that made him want to be better. Something that made him want to throw away his reputation and start fresh, to not be seen as the boy with a new conquest every day, to be seen as the boy that’s looking for a girl to fall in love with.

Could that girl be you? He has no clue, but there’s something about you that’s begging him to find out.

So, he makes his way to the cafe, taking enough time to not seem too eager but still getting there almost fifteen minutes early.

You were already there as well, though. You had been just as anxious, if not a little more. You had spent hours getting ready, making sure that you were perfectly put together, not a hair out of place. You also spent at least an hour getting your supplies together and then checking, and rechecking everything to make sure that you wouldn’t forget a single thing.

You had arrived at the cafe half an hour early, wanting to make sure that you were there and everything was in order before he arrived. You had half expected him to be late, leaving you more time to calm your nerves. Your expectations were proven wrong, however, when he walked up to the booth you were sat at nearly a quarter to the hour.

“Hey.” He greets, sitting down a notebook, a few writing utensils, and his laptop. “Thanks again for agreeing to help me.”

“Hey! It’s no problem.” You assure, not wanting him to think that this is a burden for you when you’d rather sit around with him and work on an essay than sit at your dorm all alone, especially since you had been so caught up in him as of late.

“So, um, where do you want to start?” And so began the study session that the two of you had been looking forward to. You got so lost in the material, explaining to him what certain aspects of the essay should pertain, letting him write a paragraph or two and then tweaking them slightly, allowing him to do the same, that you didn’t even realize that the diner was about to close until the waitress came to inform the two of you.

He looked just as surprised as you felt to see that the two of you had been there for almost eight hours.

You both said a quick goodbye and set a time to meet again to continue with the studying, the time conveniently being in a few days, giving you enough time to get most of your essay done so that you could focus on him more.

After he said his final farewell, he made his way down the street, heading back towards the frat house. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way that your smile has been permanently etched into his brain. How your laugh is the most precious thing that he’s ever heard, and he’ll continue to do everything in his power to keep you laughing as often as possible.

You’re not in a much better headspace, thinking constantly about the way that his smirk is overly annoying, but also so hot that you want to kiss it off of his face. How his nose is slightly crooked, but in a way that accentuates his features in the best way.

You had asked if he had broken it before, not being able to help your curiosity. This had left to him laughing, throwing his head back, and telling you that he’s had more broken noses than he could count. He’d been boxing for most of his life, and that’s just the kind of thing that happens, knuckles get bruised, noses get broken.

Something about that had made you swoon even more. The thought of him boxing got your heart racing. You had no clue why, you’d never been a fan of any form of violence, but something about picturing him in a boxing ring had your stomach tying in knots and your face heating up.

You fell into bed that night with a smile on your face, feeling more excited than you should have to see him again.

He laid awake in his bed, across campus from you, thinking of the same things. When he’d see you again, if your conversation would venture more towards each others’ personal lives instead of strictly on the material.

It’s safe to say that neither one of you got that much sleep that night.

The two of you decided to meet at your dorm room this time, seeing as how you had spent hours studying the time before and weren’t even done when the diner closed. This way, he could stay and study as long as necessary.

He was pacing around his room, three hours before he even had to leave for your dorm, trying to find out what in the world he should wear. He thought about asking one of his frat brothers, seeing as the majority of them had a pretty good taste in clothes, but he knew that they’d all take a dig at him if he had to explain why he was so worried about his outfit choice.

He wasn’t embarrassed of you, not in the slightest, he just didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that wasn’t even a thing yet. If you ever did agree to actually go out with him, though, he would take all the jokes and the comments from his frat brothers that he had to. He’d be too happy to care what they had to say, even if you only agreed to one date and then never wanted to see him again.

He ended up settling for a pair of black jeans and a hoodie, wanting to be comfortable for the long study session, but not wanting to look like a bum. You had also mentioned to him that your building tended to be a lot more chilly than others around campus, and advised him to either wear a sweatshirt over or to bring one with him.

Although he’d never admit it to you, there was a part of him that was already trying to figure out a way to get you to come to the frat house for the next study session. It was abnormally cool in the house as well, but he wasn’t planning on telling you that. If you didn’t bring one on your own sweatshirt, he would give you his.

Because, no matter what all the boys thought of him, or what he let his reputation get to, he was the kind of guy that yearned for the domestic things in life. For waking up next to the girl he wants to spend the rest of his life with. For waking her up with kisses and then making her breakfast. For her to be wearing his clothes and for him to be able to come up to her and randomly love on her.

He had never had the chance to be like that with someone. He had come to college, joined a frat, and thought that he had to be the guy that had a new conquest every night. And he had been completely fine with it, content even. Until he met you. And something about the way that you made him feel in the brief time that he was around you in the coffee shop made him realize everything that he was missing.

He was missing you.

And you were all he could think about anymore, because he wanted his life to be complete, and he knew that with you, it would be.

How you could be this intrigued by someone after literally interacting three times is unknown to you, but you had to admit to yourself that you are. You’re so intrigued by him that you find yourself thinking about how it would feel to fall asleep next to him, or how it would be to walk into the kitchen in the morning to find him fixing something and just wrap your arms around him without a care in the world.

You shake the thought from your head, realizing that there’s no way it could ever be a reality, so why fantasize about it?

What you focus on instead is the study session the two of you have in just a few hours. You had cleaned your room before the first session the other day, but you had been deep cleaning since last night, trying to make sure that everything looked decent and presentable. You didn’t want him to think that you were a slob.

You were glad that you had remembered to remind him to wear or bring something warm, seeing as today was one of the cooler ones in the building. The thermostat that you kept in your room reading a chilly 64 degrees (17 degrees Celsius). Why it was so cold in your building, leading you to dress warmly, only to go to a lecture where the room felt like you were sitting on the sun, you would never know, but you never complained or requested a dorm change because you genuinely loved the one that you were in, regardless of the temperature.

With a quick glance at the clock on your bedside table, you decide to get dressed. You put on a hoodie and a pair of leggings. You decided to just put your hair up in a bun. It was just Tom, after all. This was just a study session. Nothing more. There was no need to get all dressed up. It’s not like this was a date. You were just helping him with his English essay. Within the next week, this whole thing would be over and you’d probably never see him again besides in class, much less have an actual conversation with him.

“Hey,” you mumble as you open the door for him. You’re still slightly nervous about what he could be thinking.

Will he think your room is a mess? You had cleaned the entire place, going over everything at least three times, but the thought still crosses your mind.

Will he think that the amount of books you have in the oak bookshelf to the left of your bed is weird? Would he think you were too nerdy? Who were you kidding, he probably already thought you were a nerd, he had noticed how the professor asked to keep your papers. At best, he had to think you were the teacher’s pet or something. That’s probably why he even asked you to help him. He probably figured that you would put in a good word for him, that you would let Professor Stephens know that you had helped.

“Hey.” He replies, sounding almost as nervous as you felt. Could he possibly be? Why would he even be nervous? The only thing that you could think of that he could even be slightly nervous about is the impression that he makes on you, if you were impressed or not. He had no need to feel like that, though.

You wanted to tell him that, but you couldn’t. There was no way in the world that you could possibly just come out and say it, let him know that he looked great.

“So, where are we starting today?” You ask, trying to steer your mind back on the right path.

“Um, I was actually maybe thinking that we could just read over what we had worked on since last time, if that’s okay? And then give each other notes that we have if there are any?” You look over at him and see that his hands are slightly tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie, giving him cute little sweater paws.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You pull your eyes from his hands, walking over and plopping down on your bed, looking over at him expectantly.

He seems a lot more nervous than you had initially anticipated. He seems almost as if he’s scared to come sit next to you. There’s something about that thought that makes him seem even more endearing than he already was.

“You can come sit, you know?” You say, smiling at him to let him know that it was alright.

He gives a nervous chuckle that sounds more like a cough and you can’t help but to laugh along. There’s something about hearing his laugh that makes your chest feel a sudden rush of warmth.

He slowly makes his way closer to the bed, still approaching with caution and you can’t help the smile that’s glued to your face.

“So, what’s your story, Holland?” You blurt, not thinking about what in the world you were doing. You didn’t even stop to ponder the possibility that he wouldn’t want to talk to you about his life. There was still the completely possible idea that he actually only wanted to be around you to study. Although, you can’t help but have an itch in the back of your mind that keeps telling you that isn’t the only reason that he’s here.

“What do you wanna know?” He takes you by surprise with that, with the fact that he seems to be willing to tell you any and everything.

“Anything.” you breathe, watching him settle into your bed. You had situated yourself to where you were sitting against the headboard, and he shuffles to lay on his stomach, opening his laptop beside you.

“Well, um, where do I start, I guess is the question.” He looks over at you and you just give a shrug, so he continues. “I could just start at the beginning. I’m Tom, as you know.” He chuckles, running a hand through his chocolate locks, and you can’t help but follow the path that his hand takes through the tendrils of hair, over his neck, and back to the bed. “I have three brothers, all younger. Sam and Harry are twins. Sam’s really into the whole culinary thing, and Harry’s a photographer. They’re really good at what they do.” You can tell by the way that he talks about them that he's really proud of them. “Paddy’s the youngest, still can’t believe how big he is every time I see him. It seems like only yesterday he was a little baby that I could carry around everywhere.” The look on his face seems as if he’s guilty for leaving his brothers when he went to college, and you immediately want to assure him that it’s okay, but you don’t feel like it’s the right time.

“I’ve got a dog named Tessa, she seems to miss me a lot, gets really lovey and excited whenever I go back home for the holidays.” The smile that breaks out on his face makes your heart swell. “Mum and dad are still together, raised me right, taught me how to treat people and how to make the right choices. If we’re honest, I don’t think that they’d be too proud of who I’ve become.” he meets your eyes and gives you a sad smile, and you want to lean over him and envelop him in a warm embrace, but you don’t think that would be the best move.

“What do you mean, why wouldn’t they? You seem like a pretty good guy, Tom.” You’re not lying, you think he’s a great person. You see no reason why they wouldn’t be proud of him.

He chuckles, looking up at you and wondering if what he’s about to say next is the best thing to do, but he decides that he might as well. “I am a pretty good guy, when I’m around you. But when I came here and joined the frat that I did, I thought that I had to be a certain person.” He looks away from you, not wanting to have to see the way you’re going to react to how he really is. “And, for a while, I really liked who I was, you know? I thought that was who I was supposed to be, and it kind of felt right. The whole partying every weekend and taking a different girl home each time I went out thing was fun for a while. And then something changed. Something in my life shifted and I figured out that it wasn’t really that fun. That there were other things that I could do. I don’t want the reputation that I have.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair again, still refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m surprised that you haven’t heard about it. You’d probably run for the hills if you did.”

You chuckle, and his eyes immediately shoot to meet yours. “I know about your reputation Tom. I have since before I even agreed to help you.”

“Then why would you agree? You had to have known the kind of person that I was. There had to have been at least one person that warned you away from me.” He genuinely can’t believe that you knew about his reputation, about all the things that everyone said about him, both true and false, and still decided to be around him.

“Yeah, there were quite a few that warned me about you, but I don’t listen to what people tell me to do. And I definitely don’t listen to what people have to say about others. I like to find out for myself, which is exactly what I did, and I’m glad that I chose to do what I did. If I had listened to them, I wouldn’t have found out how great of a person that you are.” Without putting any thought into it, you reach down and run your fingers over his palm, letting him know that you’re there, that you know who he really is and that you don’t think what everyone else does.

He looks up at you, looking a bit startled, and confused, but he makes no move to pull away, just relaxes even further into the bed as you continue to trace random patterns into his hand.

“Hey, this may sound weird, but I haven’t been sleeping well lately, too nervous for my brain to shut down, so do you mind if we maybe, um, take a nap? Or maybe just me? I don’t know, I could lay on the floor or something, I just feel really calm right now.” A blush rises to his cheeks and you can’t help but agree, grabbing your stuff and placing it on the floor beside your bed.

“You can stay up here, Tom.” You murmur, not wanting him to be too far.

He nods an agreement, helping you shuffle under the covers before doing the same. You hear him sigh in content behind you and the smile that spreads across your face stays there as you drift off into the most peaceful sleep that you’ve had since Tom walked into the coffee shop.

Weeks passed, and you were still keeping up with the study session, you finding it a lot easier to get things done when Tom was around, and him still needing the occasional push in the right direction on certain assignments. You had both found that it was just simpler to stay study buddies than try to get through it on your own.

You had become a lot closer with Tom, the weeks spent together really letting you get to know one another quite thoroughly.

And, if you’re being honest with yourself, which you hadn’t loved doing lately, you had developed quite the crush on Tom. You suddenly saw what everyone would ramble about when talking about him.

He was sweet, caring, funny, and a lot smarter than he gave himself credit for. When you had told your select few friends about him, they had immediately warned you away from him, told you that he didn’t really need a study partner, he just wanted to get in your pants.

All those speculations had gone away, however, after you explained to them that you had gone the initial week without him trying to make a move whatsoever. At first, they had been surprised, but then you just ended up getting the occasional offhand comment about how it wasn’t all that hard to believe. “I mean, look at him and then look at you.” was one that was used quite a bit. And you hated to admit it, but it really got to you. So much so that you had decided not to make the first move yourself.

You had grown up being told that women could do anything that men could do, that it was okay to make the first move no matter what the situation was. But there was something about your so-called friends that made you question that in an instant.

Maybe they were right. They did seem to have all the ‘evidence’ that they needed. How could he possibly have the reputation that he had and not have made a move yet? The only plausible explanation was that he simply found you unattractive.

But then your brain would drift back to the conversation that you had shared a few weeks prior. He didn’t want to have that reputation anymore, didn’t want to be that guy. He wanted to be the guy that he was before starting college, before joining the fraternity that made him into a completely different person. He didn’t want to be the womanizer with a brand new girl in his bed every night.

Those thoughts set the peace back in your mind. Maybe he really was different. He certainly was around you, he had been since the very beginning.

You had made him want to be different, want to change and be known as the guy that wants to fall in love, not as the guy who wants to sleep with as many girls as possible. You changed it all for him and he couldn’t help but realize that he may be falling for you.

He had been completely enamored by everything about you since the moment that he had first laid eyes on you, and in the short time that the two of you had been hanging out, he had come to grow extremely fond of your personality. Of the way that you saw the good in everything and made him feel as if he wasn’t the crappy person that everyone assumed he still was. Of the way that you made every room brighter, no matter what.

He hadn’t felt as strongly as he did for you in as long as he could remember, and usually feelings would scare him, but there was a certain aspect of the way that you made him feel that took all the fear away, made him feel completely secure in admitting that he had feelings for you.

Not that he could ever admit them to you. No, he was nowhere near fearless enough to come out and let you know how he felt. There was no way that you could possibly like him back. There’s no way that you could have just ignored every bad thing that he had opened up and told you about. There was no way that anyone could love him despite all of that, let alone you.

You were sitting in his room at the frat house, typing away at a project that had been assigned for English, when he looks up at you. He studies your features for a moment, how perfect they all look. How the crease you get between your brows when you’re trying to concentrate makes you somehow even more beautiful than you already are. How the way your tongue sticks out and runs over your full lips makes you look almost angelic, how your hair frames your face perfectly, making him want to run his hands through it.

“We’re having a party here tonight.” He blurts, making you look up from the screen of your computer and give him your undivided attention.

“Oh, that’s fun, do you need me to be gone by a certain time or something?” You ask, slightly bummed that you may have to leave earlier than usual tonight. You’ve gotten used to spending most of the day with him and then going your separate ways at almost midnight every time that you studied together.

“No, no. not at all!” He spits, wanting to smack himself for being so bad with words. Of course he didn’t want you to leave. He wanted you to be around him as much as you were comfortable with. He could spend every day and night in your presence and never get bored. “I was actually wondering if, um, maybe you’d want to go?”

You almost chuckle, thinking how ridiculous the offer is. He knows you, knows that you’re not the girl that goes to parties, much less parties at the biggest frat on campus. You don’t laugh, however, because you see the hopeful look in his eyes. “I mean, I don’t know, Tom. I’m not exactly the party type, you know?”

He scoffs, “What makes you say that? Everyone’s the party type.”

You give a slight eye roll at that, “That’s not true. I’m nowhere near what would be considered the party type. I’m the girl that stays in her dorm or at the library studying, not the girl that goes to parties on the weekends and gets wasted.” You look down at your hands, realizing yet another reason why he wouldn’t like you. Why would he want to be with someone who’s never experienced that aspect of his life? “I mean, props to those girls that do that, it just isn’t me.”

He leans over towards you and hooks a finger under your chin, lifting until your eyes meet his again. “Please? I promise you’ll have a good time. I’ll make sure of it.” Your cheeks heat up at this, your mind immediately going to the gutter. You shake the thought from your mind, surprised that you would even think such things.

It’s not like you and Tom would ever do something like that anyway. He had explained to you multiple times that he didn’t want to sleep with people that he didn’t have feelings for anymore. He didn’t want the meaningless sex anymore. He wanted something that actually meant something. And even though it would mean something to you if something were to happen, it would be meaningless for him, so the chances of anything occurring if you agreed to go to the party was zilch.

So, you find yourself nodding, agreeing to go. He looks extremely shocked, like he had every doubt in his mind that you would ever say yes.

If only he knew how you felt, then he would have been aware of the fact that there’s no way that you could ever say no to that face, to the puppy dog eyes that he gives you when he asks for something that he really wants. And he hadn’t stopped giving them since the initial question had rolled off of his tongue, so he must really want you at that party, so of course there was no way that you were going to miss it.

Frat parties are weird. They’re kind of gross too, people spilling drinks everywhere, dropping cup after cup into other people and on the floor. You were glad that you had decided to not get dressed up, the room felt like it was a thousand degrees. You had settled on a pair of black denim shorts and a slightly cropped top that came down to just above your belly button, wanting to fit into the atmosphere without looking like you were trying too hard.

You had gone home around thirty minutes ago, getting ready before heading back. By the time you had returned, Tom was nowhere to be found, and you weren’t planning on actively searching for him. You’d let him do his own thing, and maybe catch up with him later.

Another thing you noticed, after pouring yourself a drink and settling against a wall near the corner of the room, was that frat parties are loud. Not just the music, that’s continuously playing, no breaks that would make people want to leave to do something else. There was something about the way that every song made the occupants of the party roudier and roudier. After a few songs had played, almost every person in the house was screaming along at the top of their lungs. So yeah, frat parties were loud.

As you scan the room, you realize that this could maybe be thrilling. If you had someone that you could have asked to come with you, if you had someone to dance with. You had a few friends, sure, but none of them would ever be caught dead at a party like this one. They were all like you, they’d rather stay home and get some peace on a Friday night than go out to a party.

Were you really like that though? The girl that you had thought you were before, even just three hours prior, would’ve never agreed to this much less be enjoying it.

The last thing you notice before joining the crowd, a girl grabbing your hand and leading you to dance with her, is that, just maybe, frat parties are fun.

He had been pulled into a game of pong by his brothers. He hadn’t even noticed that you were here yet, but the second he sees you dancing with a few girls that he’s never even seen before, all the air is knocked from his body. You look ethereal. The light sheen of sweat making the dim lights reflect off of your body, casting a light around you. The way that the strands of hair that have come loose from your updo stick to your forehead and neck make him want to fix it for you, run his hands through your hair, no matter how sweaty it would be, and redo the ponytail that you had been sporting.

There’s a churning in his gut, and at first he doesn’t realize why. But then it hits him, hits him like a freight train. He wants to be the one dancing with you. He wants to make you smile like you’re smiling at those girls. He wants to be the one that riles you up and makes you dance and have the time of your life.

So, without finishing the game, he makes his way to you, ignoring the questions and shouts to come back from the boys. He walks up to you without a care in the world and wraps his hands around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You tense up for a split second and he feels like an absolute idiot for just coming up behind you like he did, but then you lean back into him, turning your head slightly to the side to murmur a “Hey, Tommy.” into his ear, and his entire head goes blank.

Tommy? He could get used to that.

“Hey, love. You look like you’re having fun.” He fights every urge in him to not kiss into your neck, to not leave the marks that he’s been dying to for weeks on end.

“I am. I really never thought this would be my scene, but it’s a rush.” You giggle, still dancing to the music, his swaying along behind you, still holding onto your waist.

“Told you that you’d like it.” He breathes, still resting his face in your neck. You can feel his warm breath fan over the expanse of your skin and it sends shivers down your spine, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the smirk that you can feel appear on his face lets you know for a fact that he felt it. “Hey, do you maybe want to go upstairs? Take a breather?”

At this, you turn to face him, “Tom…” you say pointedly, knowing what people will think if you head upstairs together. You can already hear the things that people will say. “Is that the best idea? You know what people are going to say.”

He flashes the puppy dog eyes, and he immediately has you, but you can’t let him know that, so you continue to put up a fight. “Tom, the rumors aren’t going to be pretty.”

“I won’t let anyone say anything bad about you, darling. I don’t wanna do anything, just wanna take a beat, cool down, spend some time with you.” You smile, wanting to just give in to him, to let him lead you to his room that you’ve been in way too many times before, but you’re still a little worried.

“People are going to say things regardless of what you do. And it isn’t just me they’ll say things about.” He leans down, pressing his face back into your neck.

“Please? I really want to just be with you, I’ll fight anyone who says anything bad if I have to.” He promises, making your smile grow.

“There’s no need for violence, come on, let’s go to your room.” You finally agree, letting him take you by the hand and push through the crowd.

You slowly make the trek up the stairs to his room at the very end of the hallway, stepping inside and letting him close the door behind the two of you.

You flop down on his bed, laying on your stomach and looking around the room that you’d already scanned countless times before. The books on the shelf are calling out to you, but it’s not the time. This is a party, not a study session. You let your eyes roam again, landing on the family photo that you’ve admired more times than you would care to admit. He looks so happy, posing on a golf course with his brothers and dad, Tessa sitting at his feet.

“You’re gorgeous.” He blurts, not thinking of the consequences that could come from his words.

You can feel your cheeks heat up from the compliment, your ears beginning to burn. “Thanks, you’re pretty gorgeous yourself.”

“Thanks, love.” He chuckles, and then the room falls silent for a few moments, your head resting on the bed, eyes closed and trying to get your heartbeat to slow down. He’s still standing by the door, leaning on his desk and playing with his fingers.

You continue observing the room, noticing for the first time that there was a little hole by the bathroom door. You wonder how it got there. Your brain is shuffling through a few options of how it could have appeared when Tom clears his throat and catches your attention.

You turn your head, locking eyes with him again and quirking your eyebrow, sending him the message to continue, to just spit out whatever he has to say.

“I walked into that coffee shop that day and ordered a coffee. I was in a hurry and I needed to make it to an important meeting at the house, but I saw you through the window. You looked so stressed, I didn’t just want to bombard you with yet another order, so I took my time by looking through the pastry cases, letting you have a second to breathe.” He pulls out the chair by his desk and plops down in it, looking too nervous to continue standing. “I strolled on over to the counter, ordered the simplest thing I could, and patiently waited for you to get it. I saw that you spilled some on yourself and wanted so badly to take your hand in mine and kiss it better. I don’t know why, it was just an urge I had.” He chuckles slightly, as if realizing how utterly ridiculous the action would have been if it had actually been carried out. “After that day, I couldn’t get your smile out of my head, couldn’t get the way that your eyes lit up to stop replaying in my thoughts.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around the room before landing his eyes back on yours. “I looked for you for a while, asked about you, but to no avail.”

You chuckle this time, you’re not surprised that he couldn’t find you by asking around, you didn’t associate yourself with many people.

He flashes you a smile and then continues, “Everything about you makes me smile, I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I can’t keep you out of my head no matter how I try. You drive me crazy in the best way possible. I caught feelings for you. I feel so hard and that scares me to death at first.” He sighs, looking away from you again. “I don’t usually do the whole commitment thing, as my reputation suggests, but thinking about the things that I could have with you makes me want the commitment, makes me want to be domestic and lovey with you.Don’t get me wrong, it’s still terrifying.” He locks eyes with you again. “You just have this way of making me feel like everything’s going to be alright.” He cracks a smile before continuing with, “I think that the world could be ending and you’d make me feel like it was fine.”

You’re smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. Tom Holland, arguably the hottest, most popular boy on the entirety of campus is into you. And not only is he into you in the way that everyone had thought he would be, he actually wanted something real with you. He didn’t just want to have you in his bed for one night. The way that he was explaining it, he wanted you in his bed every night for as long as he could have you.

You have to take a second to catch your breath, his confession leaving you feeling as if you had just run a marathon at a full sprint.

Once you calm yourself back down, you let everything you had been dying to say fall out of your mouth. “That day at the coffee shop, all I needed was one thing to make me smile. I just needed that one thing to let me know that it was going to be okay. And then you walked in, and you didn’t just make me smile for a minute, you made me smile for the rest of the day. I looked for you too, searched every group of people I walked past. I didn’t ask anyone because I doubted anyone that I know would know someone that looks like you.” You chuckle awkwardly, trying not to put too much thought into what’s coming out of your mouth. If you did you would immediately psych yourself out and that’s definitely what you needed.

“I caught feelings too. I really tried not to, if we’re being completely honest with each other. I never thought that this would be me.” You look down at your hands, playing with the silver band that you keep around your finger. “I didn’t think that I would be that girl, you know? The girl that falls for the cute frat boy, even though they were repeatedly told to avoid him.” You smile despite yourself, still twisting the ring mindlessly. “I fit the cliche perfectly, don’t you think? The nerdy girl with barely any friends that meets the boy that needs a little help studying and then falls for him.” You scoff at how predictable the whole thing was, it was almost laughable. Honestly, it was, and you’d be laughing along if it wasn’t your life.

“But the thing about it is, I was fine with being that cliche. I was fine with falling for the boy I’m not supposed to because it wasn’t just any boy, it was you. And I haven’t been able to get your stupidly perfect face out of my head since the minute you wandered into the shop. I can’t stop thinking about holding your hand when I see you tracing seemingly random things with your fingertips. Can’t stop myself from wanting to lean over and kiss you every time that I’m helping you study and get a little pouty because you want a break but we’ve only been working for like five minutes so I say no. Can’t stop myself from thinking about how sometimes we nap together and wake up tangled in each other's arms, and how we could do that every day.” Your cheeks begin to burn at the things that you just let slip out of your mouth, but you’re quickly distracted by the embarrassment as you feel the bed shift under Tom’s weight.

He settles in beside you, taking your hand in his and running his thumb over your knuckles. You look up at him, wanting to see his reaction to what you had just said, and as soon as you see his face, you’re floored.

He has the biggest smile splayed across his face, and you can’t help but mimic his expression, glad to see that he wasn’t repulsed by what you had to say. Which, honestly, it wouldn’t make that sense if he was, but there’s always a possibility.

“Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long, and yeah, we’re definitely the cliche, but would you maybe wanna be my girlfriend?” Tom asks, a hopeful look in his eyes.

You want to say yes. You really do, more than anything in the world, but your voice of reason is asking you why someone in him would really want to be with you. Sure, he said that he didn’t want to be that guy anymore, but that’s literally who he is. Why would he really just throw all that away all of a sudden?

“No offense Tommy, but you’re not exactly serious boyfriend material, and I’m the girl that wants to have a serious boyfriend, to have a relationship that’ll last. I want to be able to take my boyfriend home to my mom and dad. I don’t just date for the hell of it, Tom. I date for real.” You say, fighting an internal struggle with yourself. So much of you wants to just say yes, but he has to know what you want in a relationship. “And don’t freak out when I say this, because a lot of guys do. But, really, if you’re not dating someone to see if they’re the person that you’ll spend the rest of your life with, why are you even dating them? That’s how I view relationships.”

“I get that, it doesn't freak me out. I used to be like that, used to want a serious relationship.” You give him a look, the way he’s wording his sentences not helping his case. He gets the hint and rushes to continue what he was saying. “I just lost myself here, but being around you made me realize that the part of me that wants to be in a serious relationship, that wants to be domestic was still in there.” He’s getting more nervous by the second, you can tell by the way his fingertips are tracing patterns into your hand. You give his a quick squeeze in reassurance. “I don’t expect you to believe me right now. Honestly, I wouldn’t believe me either if I were you, but I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you that I can be the guy that you want. Screw my reputation, forget what everyone thinks about me. I just need you by my side, I don’t care what anyone else has to say.”

You smile, feeling your chest swell with his words. There’s not a single part of you that doesn’t think he could prove it to you, so you don’t hesitate to agree.

“Fine. prove it to me Holland, and then I’ll think about being your girlfriend.”

Ever since that night, he’s been even more perfect than he already was. He really meant it when he said that he’d prove it. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t show you that he could be everything that you need and more.

He walks you to class from wherever you had spent the night before. If you had slept over at the frat house, he would let you shower there and wear some of his clothes if you hadn’t brought any of your own with you - or if you just wanted to wear his clothes - and then he would walk you back to your dorm so you could finish getting ready. If the two of you had slept in your room, he would always make sure that he woke you up by nuzzling into your neck, then letting you get ready while he checked to make sure you had everything you needed for the day.

Once you were ready to head out the door, he’d grab your stuff for you, slinging your bag over his shoulder and either grab your hand or throw his arm over your shoulders. He’d walk you all the way to class and then leave you with a kiss on your cheek.

During those that you have together, though, he walks in and you sit near the back. You moved where you normally sit so that he can whisper in your ear during the lectures without bothering anyone else. You had ended up needing to invest in a voice recorder so you could catch the content and listen to it later.

The classes that you shared that took place in the early mornings were by far the worst, for you anyways. He seemed to not have a problem with getting up at the crack of dawn to get ready. But no matter how tired you were, he was always there to make sure that you were well put together. And, after he ensured that the voice recorder was on and running, he would let you lay your head on his shoulder and get a little more sleep.

On the nights that you’re not too worn down from classes, he’ll take you out to dinner. He always lets you pick the restaurant and then takes you to a new scenic destination to watch the sunset.

You still spend a lot of your time at the library, still having to study even though you’re spending a steadily increasing amount of time with Tom. Any time that you need to sit at the library to study, he’ll tag along if you want him to, even if he doesn’t need to study. He’ll sit across from you, knowing how you like to have an ample amount of space to spread out your materials, and read a book.

Even when you didn’t go out anywhere, just stayed in and spent time with each other, everything was perfect. Everything was completely perfect.

And what really took you by surprise was the fact that he didn’t even seem like he was trying very hard. It seemed like acting like this with someone that he cared about was just second nature. It was really pleasant, knowing that if you did say yes, it would be like this all the time.

One of your biggest fears going into this was that he would be perfect until you said yes and then completely change, do a full one eighty and make you regret your entire decision. But the way that he acts comes naturally to him that you don’t have a doubt in your mind that it will stay the same if you agree to date him.

A few weeks later, you’re sitting on his bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone as he sits at his desk, working on another essay. You had finished yours a few hours prior, so you were waiting for him to complete the rough draft so you could read over it.

“Yes.” You blurt, not thinking to elaborate.

“Hmm?” He wonders, not even looking up from his laptop, fingers still clicking away at the keys.

“Yes.” You say, a little louder this time. His fingers stop moving, coming to a rest on his keyboard.

“What do you mean , love?” He asks, not wanting to get his hopes up as to what you could be talking about.

“I’ll be your girlfriend.” He jumps up from his chair, a smile breaking across his face. He bounds over to the bed and picks you up, spinning you around and planting kisses all around your face.

You giggle, trying to wiggle your way out of his grip to no avail. After a few moments, he lets you down. He clambers onto the bed beside you and puts a hand on each side of your face, smooshing your cheeks.

“I love you, in case it wasn’t obvious.” He says, looking at you like you’re the reason that his world spins.

“I love you too, Holland. Couldn’t imagine life without you.” And it’s true, although you’d only known him for a span of a few months, he had completely changed your life.

And suddenly, you’re really thankful for a busy day at the coffee shop.

Permanent Taglist - @spideygirl2003, @jackiehollanderr, @scarletsoldierrr, @thewayilookatbacon, @parker-barnes-af, @lost-in-the-stars03, @kisses-holland, @josiemara, @god-knows-what-am-i-doing, @fanficscuziranout, @akila-stilinski @babebenhardy @write-from-the-heart, @slytherinambitious, @miraclesoflove @tomshufflepuff, @quaksonhehe, @a-different-brand-of-beans, @dummiesshort,

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mandimormon-blog · 7 years

Text

Seaweed and Dirty Filters

Typically, as I type a blog, I have bullet points or a keyword list stored as a note, on my phone. Not because I forget everything, but I forget everything UNLESS someone offends me. In the case, I remember the exact year, day, weather, time, location, minute, what clothing we both were wearing, and whether or not I was having a good hair day.

Last week, as I pecked away at the keyboard, I forgot a little gem. It’s probably because my mind shifts focus dozens of times and when I remember where I was originally going with something, it’s too late. It’s posted.

Picture this. We go about the same weekly, school routine, day-by-day. We arise and shine forth, extra early or most of the time not a minute before 7:00 a.m. expecting to be arriving at school sometime between 7:55-8:05. A long time ago, (like last school year), I used to be up before the sun, getting five miles in and starting morning chores long before 7:00 a.m. rolled around. This year, however, my son began all-day Kindergarten meaning, I have about seven hours a day to get household chores underway, a run in, weights in, and all of the errand running done (because let’s face it – it’s easier to fly solo when purchasing the weekly groceries). I require my sleep. I even get lots of stars on my FitBit for getting enough sleep per night. Yep, that feels like a participation trophy but it’s a good feeling to get enough sleep not to mention healthy, so I’m not ashamed.

Back to rolling out of bed at 7:00, dragging my feet down the stairs, “inspiring” my children to get dressed in the clothing they laid out for school, the evening before. Mamma-pedia’s Definitition of “inspiring” means bribing; repeating up to, but not more than 12 times; announcement of privileges; threats of privilege-removal; threats of calling the parent (in the restroom upstairs) into the conversation; and shouting, as a final resort.

Then a breakfast compromise, naturally, because no two children enjoy the same thing at the same time. Then hair. Oh hair. Have you met my middle child? Undoubtedly, everywhere we go this little chicky receives a minimum of three compliments on her naturally curly loose locks. Caring for these gorgeous locks isn’t a beautiful process. This little girl is very independent and stubborn. Every. Single. Day. Is a battle over the hair. Every. Day. If I choose to pull it into a ponytail or bun, she’ll remove it immediately because it wasn’t her choice. After the effort to catch her running around the couch, bar, up the stairs, around the table, and spray detangling all over her, the floor, sometimes even my husband if she has to be lovingly restrained, hair styled and then it’s removed, in the blink of an eye, you can only imagine how frustrated I become. Actually, not that frustrated anymore. I can’t be fazed. I just look like the Kermit memes or the emoji with its mouth closed straight across and eyes shut.

Hair, eventually check, usually minutes before 8:00. Then it’s teeth brushing, book bag gathering, shoe placement or shouting about shoe placement, and running out the front door.

As parental blood pressures return to stable, we call on someone to give a morning family prayer, (yes, on the way to school in the truck, the whole family), and discuss the children’s agenda for the day. On this given day, it was Friday, and as we slowly inched our way closer and closer to the drop-off location. I remembered it was Friday and Jude’s show-n-tell day. I said to him, “Jude, is today show-n-tell?” His response, “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

I looked to my left and to my right. “Well, maybe we can find something in dad’s truck you can take in.” He held up a paint-stir stick, “I can take this!”

I opened the glove box and pulled out the contents. Without thinking and laughing a little, “Here’s a Book of Mormon, you could take that.” He began hopping in his seat, “Yes, Yes! I want to take that!”

I looked at my husband, who tried convincing him it probably wasn’t a good idea to take that to show-n-tell. But Jude was insistent now. He was so excited, so we couldn’t take it from him. We just hoped for the best. After dropping the children off, my husband and I conversed about how this was going to go down. I laughed and said there would probably be a note sent home with him. But, honestly, I wish I had the faith this kid has to be bold and absolutely satisfied with things I choose to do.

The day went by, that was the day we went to the temple last week, so my mother picked up the kids from school. She told us this story when we returned from our day-date. Note, she usually waits in the carline. Today, a few classes were out to recess while she waited.

She said as she was sitting in the carline she was looking around at all of the children playing on the playground. She noticed one little boy, but thought it couldn’t possibly be Jude because that child had no hat and no gloves on, this day was chilly. But then she realized that little boy absolutely had to be Jude because he was running around the blacktop, carrying a Book of Mormon in his hands.

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at this. I even pulled Jude into the conversation my mother, husband, and I had, to ask about taking his show-n-tell to recess. Sure enough, he let us know he did have it, it took it outside for both recesses.

Jude seems to be on a roll and has been for a couple of years now. I’ve always heard the baby of the family is the comedian.

On Wednesday, I was terribly busy. I know you’re probably thinking ‘Yeah right’. Valid. Truly valid. But I dabble in a lot of extracurricular activities. For one, I run. I like to 5-6x a week. So maybe an hour, hour and a half a day. Weightlifting. That’s 20-40 minutes. On this particular day, I had to run, weightlift, runner-bathe… ‘Mamma-pedia’s Definition of “runner-bathe” – wash face, blow-dry sweat into hair, wipe off body with a damp towel and a little bit of soap, air dry, dress for the day.’

Then my mother and I ran over to Crawfordsville and hit up Kroger. Have I mentioned how much I love their organics and gluten-free selections? Wow, I do. Then since Wednesdays are early release, I ran inside, make a salad, inhaled it, and went to the school for pick-up. I hadn’t really been home all day. I didn’t realize how much of an impact this would make on my children until we all walked through the front door and Reis, stopped dead in her tracks, “Mom, why is the house a mess?”

Job Security. That’s what I wanted to say. I clean, clean, clean, every day. A normal day those three kiddies walk in and everything is put away, the counters are clean, all articles of clothing clean and put away, the house is fragrant of essential oils from mopping or the diffuser, and even sometimes dinner is in the crockpot or ready to be prepped. This particular day, not so much… the cereal bowls were still on the counter from the morning, a hair brush on the table, detangler out, hair cream. Sink with several dishes, the counters weren’t wiped down a couple of pairs of shoes appeared sporadically on the floor, the couch was looking crazy. The zipper is broken, so sometimes the guts of the couch hang out, you know what I mean? The white stuffing. Toys on the living room floor. A hamper full of clothing next to the washer and dryer. Barstools disheveled.

As she said this I didn’t take offense, past the job security tidbit, I was like, “You are right. I have to clean it now.” I’m not OCD. Not even a little bit. My sink had blue clay residue for a couple of days around the bowl and like I mentioned my couch is undressed half of the time. If I were OCD that brown couch would be curbside. I just have a routine I go about day-by-day, thinking no one noticed, but now I know they do.

So, here I am straightening things up, Jude’s following me around at this point, discussing something with me. We usually have very adult conversations together. I opened up the utility closet door to place the vacuum back. While it was open I hung another bag up on its hook, the furnace filter caught my eye. It was still dust-covered.

To my son, I commented, “I want to text your dad and ask him to get a furnace filter, but I’m afraid to, since I’ve already asked him, nine times.”

Jude replied, “Maybe he’s getting it for your birthday.”

Backing it up, on Monday my girls (plural) had 4-H meetings. Remi is now old enough for Mini 4-H. Reis has done 4-H since 3rd grade, but not Mini. I, however, did Mini 4-H in second grade. In second grade when times were simpler. For example, you could bake cookies or build a birdhouse.

In 2017, you can pick from a slew of projects, similar to the bigger kiddos, and this year you can even get a mentor and show a smaller livestock animal. No cows.

Reis had her first meeting of the year, too. It was very successful and she’s stoked a friend of hers is taking a project this year.

Tuesday was Valentine’s Day. That day was crazier than the Wednesday, I’d described. But only because I choose for it to be crazy and I was crazy-proud of that.

I set my alarm a little bit earlier than normal. It wasn’t 7 a.m. prying myself out of bed like a zombie. I had a hop in my step, because I had big plans for the fam.

While they were sleeping, I made gluten-free blueberry muffins, homemade gluten-free fresh strawberry and chocolate chip pancakes, and fresh strawberries cut into hearts, with “pink milk” (aka Strawberry Milk – we don’t even do regular milk in our home, we usually opt for almond everything but this was a special day).

I gave my husband a box of one of his favorite kinds of a candy with a cheesy message on it and later in the day, I made him a loaf of gluten-free banana bread. He said it was good. But to me, the texture appeared very dry. I couldn’t try it, AIP still going strong. Speaking of AIP, I read the guide to reintroduction, a few days ago, and laughed out loud. It said as you reintroduce a food group, you should take a small nibble of the food, wait 15 minutes, consume it and then don’t reintroduce anything else new for five days to note your reactions. AIP Founders must not understand my life. If I’m trying a food I’ve been forced to avoid for 30 days and my meals consist of vegetables with the exception of nightshades, no grains, no seeds, no nuts, no dairy, no soy, no processed foods – do you think I can just take a little nibble of something? The answer is no. No, I inhale that food and then eat more of it. I did try an egg yolk a few days ago, so I’m going to venture to say it didn’t affect me in a bad way, and I should probably hard-boil more eggs. Oh, the sacrifice!

I ran, tossed around some weights, and got ready. I went by the flower shop to send an arrangement to someone and noticed I was the only female, aside from the staff, all men on Valentine’s Day. I was planning Miss Remi’s Valentine’s Party. Of course, I had been for the past couple of weeks. I delegated almost everything, but I still took in my insulated bag of backups, in case they were needed and a gluten-free party mix.

That morning, I decided to attend Jude’s party, too, since it was a half hour before Remi’s party. After his was over, I rushed to Remi’s, and feeling great about that one, because the moms did an exceptional job with their delegations. Did I mention Remi and I both wore our matching Mommy and Me LuLaRoe Valentine Leggings? We so did. She even wanted me to wear them to match her. I had so many compliments because of how “festive” my leggings were.

I began to walk down the hallway, headed out of the building after her party, but noticed my oldest daughter in gym class. I tried discreetly tapping on the window but it was probably super loud in there, so I just let myself in and yelled her name. I’m sure she wasn’t embarrassed at all.

She and her friend came quickly to me, probably hoping I didn’t yell her name, again. I asked if she’d had her party and they told me it was in the next ten minutes. I told them, I would probably come then.

Classroom parties must be my weakness, because I know I described previously how proud I was at the beginning of the school year when I only signed up for one party per child so I wasn’t so stressed going to three parties and making three contributions or more for each holiday.

I ran outside and moved my vehicle away from the bus lane, and went in for round three. I unloaded a few things that wouldn’t be needed and reloaded my Mary Poppins insulated bag. I was able to contribute a gluten-free party mix to this one, for my little Celiac Lady.

After school, I rolled out gluten-free (do you wish you had a quarter for every time I said gluten-free?) pizza dough, I made from scratch. I was crossing my fingers it would taste good to my children. This variety, how about I say GF now? GF anything carby – like breads, buns, donuts – are rarely yummy. They usually have a funky texture and grainy taste. I always speculate it’s because it’s crushed up almonds or some other kind of nut. It lacks fluff.

I made a huge heart shaped pizza for the children. My husband isn’t a pizza fan. (Which I’ve heard means Telestial Kingdom for him.) So I made one of his favorite meals (that my children don’t like); Chicken Tetrazzini.

Chorus for Reis, Kettlebell Tabata for me, and Ballet for Remi – by the end of the day, I was about to die from exhaustion. The pep in my step had long gone away. And I felt like that zombie I described I usually feel like when waking up of a morning.

On Friday night of this week (not to be confused with last week, since I did talk about that, too), we went on a double date to Fujiyama – the new hibachi restaurant in Danville. What a neat experience! We were seated at a grill and the chef entertained us while cooking our table’s food. Lots of fire and laughter, the food everyone got looked out of this world. My husband was particularly fond of the rice, which was surprising. My GF food had to be prepped in the kitchen. Boring, I know.

My friends and husband even made fun of me because I got a seaweed salad and sashimi. Even more funny, when I tried to tell the waitress I couldn’t have gluten, she asked me what I was saying 4x in a row. Then finally she was like, “Oh, gluten-free?” I guess the “free” on the end clues people in.

When I was asking about the details of the seaweed salad, she told me none of the people she’s ever waited on had ever gotten it. Danville doesn’t eat seaweed, I guess.

I am really excited to take our children there to have this food experience! After we finished up, we choose to bowl. We also agreed Covington was a good idea. Called, they said there was open bowling so we arrived. The parking lot seemed swamped. When we went in we were told it would be hours because the school was there. Sure enough, high-schoolers, high-schoolers everywhere.

Bummed because we were just in Danville, mind you ¾ of us are Mormon, we decided to go into the bar, where no one was, and play pool. We drank gigantic ice waters and played pool. The most stressed out I’d been all week, trying to figure out which pocket to aim for. ;-)

Reis had a couple of friends spend the night, so they were quite busy being social butterflies. On Saturday, Remi had another basketball game, where she made three baskets and had a few assists, too. Jude was able to attend baseball camp, where he hit the ball multiple times and loved that. Then Allen took him out for a Daddy-Son Date, Lazer Tag and lunch.

Saturday was a busy, busy day, too, but it was gorgeous out. Today, piggybacked the busy-ness. We had a Youth Fireside after church. I think I’ve said before, we have a three hour block for church. I have a meeting beforehand, unless my husband is out of the building, then I go on time. Throughout the year, our youth ages 12-17, have Firesides or meetings they select the topic and speaker and we eat lunch together and listen before going home.

Today, was the Standards Fireside. Our Young Women had submitted questions and scenarios they’ve encountered and the panel (they choose) of ‘cool and trendy’ adults, answered them with life experience and the “why”. The meal was my task. So, I had to prep everything for ‘Walking Tacos’ or ‘Tacos in a Bag’. I made a few up and they smelled awesome. I’d heard from several people, too, they were awesome. I pretended my lettuce with mushrooms and cucumber in oil and vinegar and apple was actually a Walking Taco. You’re killin’ me, AIP. Sundays are usually a binge eating day for me, since I’m gone for so many hours, I like my body reacts as if it’s important I refuel and tank up, just in case I’m gone away from the fridge for that period of time, again.

Here I sit, it’s now dark outside, and I need to go to my happy place. My bed.

#LDS #mormon #mommyblog

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