N/A Heyy, welcome back....
I've been...expecting you. LOL, not really.
So you decided to come back for some more of my story?
Good, good. * strokes her cat*
Hope you enjoy the second chapter :D
2)Along Piccadilly
I just stood there, staring at this boy who was probably thinking what a weirdo I am.
His eyes met mine and he said in this totally calm voice “No matter how amazing The roses that got struck by lightning is, I don’t think it any reason to go knocking it over on another person’s head.” He chuckled.
“I am so sorry.” I said “Genuinely. Here. Take it.”
I held out Keys of Fury to him.
He frowned. “Why?” he said, in this clipped, short Latin accent.
“Because I dropped a book on your head. That’s why,” I said “And it’s her newest book in the series. I was waiting ages for this, but you know...I owe you now.”
He smirked.
“Actually no. Because...” he began. I figures it would be some crap excuse but then he said
“Because at Waterstones there a signed copies.”
“What!”I froze, my heart leaped.
He nodded. “Yeah.
He was fucking with me. I was suddenly angry at the guy.
“Oh, then, why are you here and not at Waterstones...” I said accusingly, narrowing my eyes.
“Yeah, they ran out at Oxford Street, but I’m on my way to Piccadilly Circus. I just stopped at Foyles to check if they had any, by any chance.”
Call me gullible, I had no proof he was telling the truth after all, but I emedietly left the book down back on the shelf.
My reaction was by default, I couldn’t help myself. I picked up my bag where I had dropped it on the floor running to the shelf, and made my way to the door.
“Thank you,” I shouted back to him “That’s my next stop.”
“Wait,” he said.
I turned back.
He hesitated “I’m also, going, remember? ”
“Yes...” I say. What’s his point.
He shakes his head “Sorry. But I’ve never been before. Can you show me the way?”
Rolling my eyes at his confession, I looked over to see him properly.
He had lightly tanned skin, long curly black hair which may have been dark brown, and with an amazing contrast with the hair, he had blue eyes. Blue eyes, like those sapphires I saw on sale in Covent Garden once. Blue eyes, like the sea as seen from space. Blue eyes like... um, I had run out of similes for his eyes, without going into cliché mode, but yep, blue. Gorgeous.
Suddenly an unknown feeling unravelled like a roll of yarn in my stomach. This guy was cute. Very cute. In a taking-the-sun-to-London way.
My heart was pounding, and not because of the signed books any more.
I pushed the thought out of my mind. He was a stranger. Nothing could happen between us. But I should make the best of the moment.
