We sat talking about everything. His parents divorce, his life, his overwhelming but exciting career. He asked me about my family, my parent's divorce (which happened right as I turned 18,) my goals and ambitions. 

It was like we had so much in common that it felt like we knew each other our whole lives. Our similarities tied us together emotionally. I never met a man who loved Shakespeare as much as I do or be completely sinister at the same time. 

It's true, though all that sincerity, that wall of goodness he puts up, Tom has this secret evil side. He told me that he likes to be a little wild and by that, I didn't have the guts to ask him.

"When I was playing Loki, developing his character, I really discovered my true self believe it or not," the way Tom described his passion for his craft amazes me. "Love isn't bound by strict concepts. It has no gender, Loki taught me that."

Right now I want to force myself upon this man. I mean, come on, how could you not want to? If all the men could take a 'How to be like Tom Hiddleston' course, the world (and the women in it) would be a better place.

Everyone deserves a man like him. 

"So gay marriage, you're all for it?" I look at him, studying his movement. "100%. Everyone deserves equality. It's a shame really." He grabs his cup of tea, early grey with a splash of milk, taking a sip.

"What's a shame?" I ask. 

"It's a shame that there's people out there who can't accept others for the way the are." 

I'm dead. My heart pounding so hard and my mind is flushed. He is the definition of perfect. 

Tom sets his cup down, grabbing the stirrer and playing with it. Nervously he asks, "May I ask you a question?" 

"Go for it."

"Would it be weird if I said that I want to kiss you?"

I don't look at him directly because I'm not sure how to look at him. So I just smile.

A smile can say a thousand words and right now it was only saying "Yes, Tom. Kiss me. Right here, right now."

He leans forward, grabbing my hand. I look up at him, getting a smell of his cologne. Our eyes meet, inches separating our face. 

With a smile he leans towards my face, caressing my cheek and pressing his lips against mine. Slowly, intimately our lips fight one with each other. He slips his tongue into my mouth without any resistance from myself. 

The kiss lasted only 10-15 seconds but it was the most passionate kiss I've ever experienced. As we disconnect, his eyes stay on me with a sly smile forming on his face. I'm blushing and laughing a bit.

"I should probably go," he said, his face showing discontent. "I'd love to see you again if I could. Tomorrow maybe?" I look at him, nodding. 

"I'd love that."

We both stand up, walking in the direction of the door. 

"I'll call you tomorrow then?"

"You better." He smiles walking a few steps closer to me. Our bodies close in contact when he kisses me on the cheek. "You can count on it,” whispering in my ear.

That accent, his smooth British voice. I swear I died a little. He grabs the handle walking into the hallway.

First date: Successful.

Second Date: To be continued....