Tom's POV

I can't stop shaking. I have no idea why, except that maybe I'm the tiniest bit nervous. There's no reason I should be though. I mean, I've gone out with a bunch of girls and never gotten nervous; it's just Y/N.

But I suppose that's the trouble. It's Y/N.

It's the girl who had my attention since I met her at one of Haz's birthday parties years ago. We were different then. Still awkward, growing into our own skin, and not yet known for the trail of broken hearts we leave behind.

It's the girl who fascinates, angers, and terrifies me every moment she's around. I swear there are times I just can't get her out of my head. No matter how hard I try. No one know much about her beyond the trivial things, and I'm desperate to be the one person beside Haz who knows more. But then she inevitably makes some sassy, smart comment that sends me right into defensive mode.

Yet, beyond all that, she completely terrifies me. Because every time I meet her eyes—I swear, she sees me, and it stirs up feelings I'm still trying to forget.

I can't though. Especially not after that kiss on Monday.

It's been nearly a week since it happened, and I can't get it off my mind. Of course, I've kissed my fair share of girls, but this—this was different.

Maybe it's because she's been my crush since we were kids. Maybe it's because I've never admitted to myself that she's the one I've compared every past girlfriend too. Maybe it's because she's the cousin of my best mate, and he already made it very clear that if I decide to have something with her, everything else has to end. And maybe, maybe I'd be ready for that if she felt the same.

I force the thoughts aside as I try to fix my hair again in the hallway mirror for the hundredth time tonight. My brothers laugh at me from the living room. "So—who is it this week?" Harry asks with a smirk. Of course, he knows quite well who I'm going out with. He just can't refuse the opportunity to tease me about it.

"You know who." I snap and glare at him through the glass. He just smiles like he knows something more than I do, but I ignore it as I try to manage my unruly curls into something presentable. "Haz is gonna drop her off any minute now, and I better not hear you say anything stupid to her."

"Wow. She's got him nervous." Harry says over his shoulder to Sam, who now watches me with his full attention. "I'm guessing this time is different, huh?"

"I'm not gonna talk about this right now." The sound of car doors shutting draws my attention, and it sends my nerves into complete overdrive. I give up entirely on my hair and let it do its own thing as I grab my jacket and keys. "I don't know when I'll be back, but don't wait up."

My brother's jeers follow me as I rush to head out before they can cause any trouble. Harrison smiles and says something to Y/N, who stands beside him, leaning against the car and looking at her phone. But at Haz's words, she looks up at him with a smile and laughs in a way I've never heard before.

I almost have to pinch myself to remember this isn't a real date. We're both just playing a game—and she's clearly winning.

It's infuriating really, but I feel like I understand now what all the sorry blokes she's left behind meant. There's no routine with her; it's just Y/N wrapped up in her secrets and—seemingly—contradicting honesty. She's just magnetic.

I mean, we're going on a 'date,' yet she looks like she barely put any effort in with her beanie pulled low, favorite graphic tee, jeans she managed to tear herself, and the combat boots she practically lives in. Still, she looks amazing.

Her laughter fills my ears again as she walks over to me. "Didn't your mum teach you it was rude to stare?"

I can't help but return her grin as I reply, "Yes, but she also taught me to keep my eye on the prize."

Something in the atmosphere shifts. Her smile fades; Harrison seems to awkwardly shuffle behind her. "I'm a person, Holland, not an object to be won. Please, for both of our sakes, treat me as such."

She walks past me, and I give Harrison a questioning look. He just shakes his head. Great, another secret I'll never know.

I force myself to take a deep breath and turn back to her, careful not to anger her further. "We should probably get going."

She nods and waves goodbye to Haz before we climb into my car. Without waiting or asking permission, she grabs the aux cord and plugs in her phone. "Don't worry. We have similar music tastes."

And those are the only words she says to me the entirety of the drive.

...

Y/N's POV

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this game isn't worth the money. But, I'm running out of options. And maybe I overacted to Tom's comment.

I mean, I've kind of been giving him the silent treatment since we left his house, which is going on ten minutes now. And yeah, he deserved it, but I can't punish him forever. We have a 'date' to go on after all.

He keeps glancing over at me as his fingers drum against the steering wheel. I can feel it each time he looks at me; it's like a warmth that threatens to rosy my cheeks and coat my palms in a layer of sweat. I offer him a soft smile again. He holds the contact for a moment before looking back to the familiar roads.

The car stops next to the sidewalk of a busy street, and I instinctively look around for anything familiar or a clue about where we're going. It only takes me a moment to spot the familiar restaurant, and Tom grins with pride when he sees my smile at the idea of revisiting his old place.

Haz and I—occasionally joined by Tom—used to come here at least once a week back when we were kids and going to different schools. We crammed ourselves into the corner booth, ordered chips, and spent hours talking. It was my happy place.

Then everything changed.

I shake my head to dispel the thoughts threatening to surface. "I can't believe this old place is still standing," I chuckle to Tom as we climb out of the car, "or that you even remember it."

"I didn't for a long time, but Haz and I were talking and remembering how I would tag along to come here sometimes." He grins as if he knows how much this place means to me and the brownie points bringing me here earns him. "So— I thought this would be the perfect place for our first date."

A laugh escapes me at his excitement as he grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. "Don't sound cocky just yet, Holland. The place may be perfect, but it doesn't meant the date will be." My lips curl into a smirk as I signal for us to head inside. "Let's see how you do with a real date."

"So you agree it's a date?" He asks with a glimmer in his eyes. "Are you admitting that I'm taking you on a date?"

"Because of the bet, but yes." I turn away from him to head inside. And I pretend to not notice the happy, childish grin spread across his features.

The diner still has the same warmth and comfort it had so many years ago. There are still scuffs in the floor that will likely never go away, regulars in their old booths, and a few smiling waitresses rushing about. It makes me breathe a deep sigh at the relief it brings to see my happiest place unchanged.

As if on instinct, I drag Tom over to the worn corner booth nestled between the jukebox and window. The old leather crackles and creaks as I slide in and prop my feet up with my back resting against the cold window.

It's like jumping back to when I was thirteen. Back to the days that I didn't have to force a smile or laugh. Before I knew what pain and heartbreak felt like; before mum—

I feel Tom's eyes watching me—trying to pick me apart. And I'm suddenly reminded why I'm here. My lips curve into a forced smile, but right here—under Tom's gaze—if hurts so much more than usual. It feels like the lie it is.

"So, what's the routine for tonight, Holland?" I question and rest my chin on my palm. "You tell me how you never do this and either shower me in vague comments until I'm swooning and blushing or act all aloof and play hard to get?"

"What makes you think this is a game to me, love?" Tom asks me with confidence dripping off of him as he leans on the table. I roll my eyes at him, and how he always has to keep the air of superiority and dominance.

"Well, I'm fairly certain the couple hundred pounds our friends bet on this makes it seem like a game. Plus, everything is a game with you, Holland. It's always been that way." I tell him with a sigh as I subtly look for a way out of this conversation before it gets too tricky.

Because it wasn't always a game with him. When we were young and still gangly and awkward, back when things were good, it was simple. I saw Tom as a sort of friend, and I might—just might—have thought he was cute back then. That was all before he grew up and became the heartbreaker across from me.

"That may be true, but that doesn't mean I think of this as simply a game. For all you know, I could be serious about this."

A laugh threatens to escape me at the thought of the Tom Holland being serious about a relationship. Ever since he grew into his looks, he's been the same and nothing has changed. Although, I can't lie. I like the idea of getting the Tom I used to know back.

"Serious about what?" I question without much thought as I mimic him and lean on the table. "Serious about having a real relationship with me? Or serious about getting me into your bed like all the other girls? Because don't even bother if it's the latter. It's a waste of both our time."

His smirk fades, and his features soften. For a second, it's as if there's a whole new side to him emerging in front of me. Someone who has created rough edges to hide and protect a soft interior. His voice is barely audible as he whispers, "And if it's the former?"

I notice a waitress approaching our little corner and decide to quickly answer Tom before the topic shuts down entirely. "Then I'd remind you, actions speak louder than words. So prove it."