Tornado (18+)

32- Paisley

I stare out the window of Mylanta, a quirky little coffee shop with a pillar box red frontage situated on Bromley High Street and watch as passersby dive into shop doorways or open up bright colors of fabric above their heads to take cover from the heavy rain that's descended from nowhere. Above is a blanket of dark grey leaving me no longer able to tell the difference between the sky and clouds.

I've taken a much needed day off from the gym and driven up to London for the day to catch up with Bailey. It's been a while since we hung out and with everything that's going on in my life right now, I can really do with my bestie.

I watch hundreds of water droplets kiss the window, then race downwards in uneven lines until they form a pool at the bottom. The rich fragrances of coffee beans and sweet pastries that fill the coffee shop make my mouth water as I sit and wait. Bailey is fashionably late as usual.

I drain the dribbles of the Macchiato left in my cup and contemplate ordering another when the door opens and a bedraggled looking Bailey enters, a gust of wind and rain following her. I raise my hand and wave. She flashes a welcoming smile and maneuvers her way through a cluster of five tables to get to me.

"Fucking hell, sorry I'm late. Dickhead Dave the landlord decides to turn up unannounced to carry out an inspection on my flat. Can you believe the cheek of him? I can't wait to move; all this stress is playing havoc with my complexion not to mention my mood swings."

I watch her wide-eyed at her little rant as she unbuttons her designer mac, Kath Kidston by the looks of it, and drops into the chair opposite. "Do you know what he said? Never mind, I'll tell you - he's withholding half of my deposit because of two dents in a door that happened when I first moved in there five years ago. I offered to replace the bloody door when it happened but he wouldn't let me, he said these things happen and not to worry about it. Now I'm moving out he wants compo. What a fucking liberty!"

"The joys of moving," I say with a sigh. "Dave has always been a dickhead; I don't know why the act of him withholding some of your deposit surprises you. He's renowned for his underhand tactics."

She reaches across the table and grasps my hand tightly. "I'm sorry. Listen to me whittling on about my problems when yours are so much bigger. Let me get us some drinks, then my ears are yours."

I smile, squeezing her hand too. "Almond croissant and a Macchiato?" She asks.

My smile stretches into a grin and before I blink, she's at the counter placing our order. I pull out my mobile again and open my text messages, a cold shiver runs down my spine as I reread the one that came yesterday from Seth.

HOPE TERENCE ENJOYS HIS LAST FEW WEEKS OF FREEDOM. TICK TOCK. TICK TOCK.

My shoulders slump. My brain races.

I haven't shown Tez the message yet. He was at the gym until late last night and I was asleep when he got home. This morning, he was up and out at the break of dawn on a military-style boot camp Jackson has organized.

"Okay. You first."

"Huh?" I look up to see Bailey placing cups and pastry filled plates down.

She raises her eyebrow as she sits. "I told you I had something big to tell you, but you look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. So, you go first."

Unable to actually say it aloud, I slide my mobile across the table. Hesitantly, she takes it. "It's not just this. Two days ago, I had a black rose delivered to the gym with a card saying, two wrongs don't make a right."

She bites on her bottom lip and glances at me nervously. "And the rose was from Seth too?"

"It wasn't signed with his name and I thought no more of it and threw it in the bin. Then when I got this message yesterday I assumed the rose was sent from him too."