𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 → 𝐥.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞

𝟑 | 𝐜𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞

𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃 to shine throughout the day as Luke and I travelled around London to different shops, in hopes of finding all of my needed supplies. Busy cars filled the packed streets, while pedestrians contained themselves on the sidewalks and open parks. Different stores were opened and buzzing to life with customers entering and leaving with all sorts of new items. 

Coffee shops and small restaurants were packed as town folks made small talk on the patios or under an umbrella, keeping away from the beating sun. Wind circulated through the streets, giving small gusts at trees or flags that were placed throughout the city. 

My flannel was now tied securely around my waist as we walked out of Brents & Roses, a vintage clothing store that had an end of summer sale. "What's left on the list?" I asked Luke as we merged with the ongoing crowd. 

"Well, the school needs you to find the book Pride and Prejudice for your English class, which I don't understand why they don't have the books at school, but anyway," Luke rambled as he folded the list back up and shoved it into his pocket. 

"Wordies should be around the corner, right?" I asked him as I shuffled past a man glued to his iPhone. 

"I think so," Luke answered, "Why don't you stop at the bookstore and I'll go grab us some coffee?" He suggested and I quickly agreed. 

After this excited and school filled day, I felt in deep need of some energy. "Ice coffee with a pump of caramel," I told him as he gave me a quick thumbs-up before parting at the street lights. 

Our shopping spree wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. We were able to find my uniform –a black pleated skirt, a white collard shirt, black blazer, grey socks, and our coloured ties– pretty easily, which was rare in the streets of London. 

We also managed to find my textbooks and other notebooks that I needed for my classes, which were seemingly expensive when you put everything together. But other than the final novel, I was all set to begin my school year at Westbrooke Academy. 

A light chime sounded as I pushed open the main door to Wordies, a small bookshop that was on the list. Although the exterior was small, the bookstore had a great length to it. Dark wooden bookshelves lined the isles as colourful book spines stuck out with gold and silver writing lacing the leather. 

There was a man working the store, who was occupying himself with an old book at the register. As I entered, his eyes flicked up and he gave me a warm smile. My shoes tapped softly against the wooden floors as I walked down one of the many isles, eyes scanning the rows for any sign of the Jane Austin novel. 

As my eyes moved back and forth, reading each perfectly sculpted spine of the books, the door chimed again, but I was unable to see who entered from where I was placed in the shop. I could hear their steps nearing me as I searched through a section of classics.