Chapter Text
Where does one go when they want to disappear among a crowd? A city.
Where does one go when they want to live in one of the most beautiful cities on Earth?
Well, London, of course.
The small café tucked away in North London was the perfect place for an American woman who liked to blend in, despite her fiery red hair and warm chocolate brown eyes. She was certainly noticeable. But she hid her features away in an oversized blue raincoat, stuffing her mass of curls into the hood and an earthy dark green scarf that shielded her face from the pelting, unforgiving rain.
Curling up in her chair, she reached into her bag and pulled out her book and pencil, as well as her mug to get her ten percent let’s-save-the-environment discount. Not that she needed it.
“How are you today, Miss?” a waitress asked, smiling as she took the blue mug, setting it on her tray. “Would you like your usual?”
“Hello, Effie. I’m very well. How are you? And… please.” She replied in a rush, her hand placed over her book and carefully unwinding her scarf from around her neck and uncovering her mouth. As soon as the girl left, she dug into her book, barely even noticing the mug returning to her table, now steaming with her favorite floral scent. As she went to pay, Effie refused as always on the first mug.
“On the house.” She winked, scurrying off to the next table. Holly pulled her coat off, forgetting that it still forced her red curls to stick to the back of her neck. Her cheeks heated, hoping that no one had been watching.
Little did she know, someone had been.
She went back to reading her novel, marking and underlying and drawing as she read. Her mind was nothing less than excitable when she began new literature. That was why she kept annotated copies of every piece she wrote, tucked away amongst her many bookcases. Subconsciously, she worked away on her tea, taking sips with every page she turned, the hot liquid practically coursing through her veins.
But she soon reached the bottom when she went to take a sip and her favorite floral scent no longer filled her nostrils and the taste orange blossom and lemon no longer graced her tongue. Biting the inside of her lip in contemplation, she wondered if it would be worth staying and getting another mug full or heading home where the tea was free and endless. And she would be out of public eye.
Deciding that she needed more time surrounded by people, she hopped down from her chair, closing her bookmark on her page and heading towards the counter for another bout of tea. While she waited, Holly took the time to pay for both cups of tea with the exact change that she had precisely put in her wallet for the occasion that morning. The smiling waiter slid her hot cuppa to her and she thanked him with a smile.
Holly returned to her table, sliding up into the chair and placing her mug of steaming floral tea next to her books. A napkin had been placed beside her scarf with quick scrawl in black ink. Furrowing her eyebrows, she hesitantly picked it up out of curiosity.
You look absolutely lovely curled up in that chair. I've been admiring you from across the café, but you looked peaceful and I didn't want to disturb you.
And you make me a bit nervous, honestly, someone as beautiful as you. I wasn’t sure how to approach you.
I would love to take you to dinner sometime.
Tom
07846536345
Her cheeks heated as she looked around, trying to locate the “Tom” who had written this to her. But he was nowhere to be found. Chewing on her bottom lip nervously, Holly carefully reread the napkin to confirm that she wasn’t insane and then folded it with ginger hands, tucking it into her coat pocket.
A golden-haired, green-eyed, extravagantly tall man smiled to himself as she tucked his scrawl away, folding her legs beneath her as she opened her book once again. He had been watching his plan unfold from just outside the café window, hoping that she wouldn’t dismiss it completely. Satisfied, he tucked his novel beneath his arm and opened his umbrella, long legs carrying him swiftly to the Underground.
Never had he been nervous to approach a woman in his life. Especially not recently.
But the redhead from the coffee stop, well, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. And that’s why he had to leave. His novel wasn’t going to read itself and he had anticipated it since he had read the first in its series. The author was under an alias, which he had always thought was a shame when it came to literature. He would love nothing more than to sit down and chat with this man about what wonderful stories he came up with and how much he genuinely enjoyed reading them when he had the time.
Tom kept his head down as he walked, afraid that he stuck out like a sore thumb among the mass of people crowding down into the Underground station. London had always been a place of salvation for him because no one paid him any mind. He liked to escape from his “rockstar status” that he had been asked about over and over again on his press tours to Australia, Asia, and back to the UK over the past weeks.
He longed for quiet. Just some quiet moments in his home with his book his tea… and maybe the pretty redhead from the coffee shop.