Bed of Roses

Chapter 3

"Well, I'm impressed. See, I was right! Your answer was more interesting", you say, raising your eyebrows back at him. "So was Smile your first band?", you asked.

"Hey, I already answered your question. Now is time for you to answer mine", he said through a smile. "But I was right about the answer! C'mon. Let me have this one, too", you said jokingly, a pout on your lips.

"Well, I can't disagree with your logic or your pout", he said, leaning a bit more into your direction. "Smile was not my first band. I used to play in Cornwall, too - where I came from, before London", he explained gesturing a bit, his hand accidentally hitting your shoulder ever so slightly. You like his touch. "It did quite well, actually. We had bookings all over the country", he said, his eyes more distant as he lost himself in memories. "There was this one place we played almost every Saturday, built on the site of an ancient tin mine. It was technically full of ghosts. I used to not believe in ghosts; especially when we were playing and the club was full of people. But late at night, after it closed, it was pretty scary. We all packed our instruments really fast, but we never spoke about why we did it. It was like a silent agreement", he chuckled. "I spoke too much. Where are you from, Y/N?", he said, leaning in even more in your direction, looking into your eyes. You could swear you felt his fresh breath against your cheeks. He was close.

"I'm from New York", you said. "What gave it away? The accent or the attitude?", you asked, smiling. "Your attitude, at first, even though the accent confirms it. You seem distracted, like you're always thinking about something more important than what's happening around you. People in London usually just try to avoid being in each other's way", he smirked at you.

"So that's how you do it! I'll definitely try it out", you smirked back. "I'm trying make it less obvious that I'm not from here. It's one of my New Year resolutions. Actually, that's what brings me to Kensington Market. I'm trying to adopt some of the british fashion trends", you say, an ironic grin plastered across your face.

"I think you already look interesting enough, but I wouldn't pass the opportunity of seeing you in a miniskirt", he smirked again. "Well, then you might be pleased with my new clothes", you smirked back. It was such an obvious flirt fest that it was nearly ironic; there was truth in it, but it was wrapped in exaggeration. Almost as if you were trying to outflirt each other.

"Actually, that's what brought me to your stall, as well. I really want that fur coat", you said, moving away from him to grab the coat. You had to hold a sigh; it felt good to be so close to him, but you didn't want him to think you really were just there to see him, when that wasn't the case. I mean, were you thinking about him right before you entered the stall? Yeah, but that's not the point.

"Sure, I'll make a special price for my New York girl", he said, moving behind the register and telling you the price of the coat. "I don't know if I'd move out of there if I was lucky enough to be born in a big city. What brings you to London?", he asked as you payed for the coat.

"Ancient History. I study it at UCL", you answered. "Well, I'd love to talk more about it. Do you want to go for a drink? I mean, as soon as my mate returns", he invites you.

But it's late, and you need to finish your papers, since most of them are due tomorrow. You explain that to him, and he says he understands. You leave the stall after saying a goodbye and a nice to meet you.

And you immediately regret it. You can be late on your papers for once. Or at least get his phone number so you can go out for a drink later. You're almost out of the market, but you don't want to lose contact with Roger. So you turn around, about to make your way back to his stall, and you're surprised to see him. He's running in your direction and says your name loudly just to make sure he has your attention.

When he reaches you, he puts his hand on your shoulder, and you bite your lip. You're too attracted to him not to crave more of his touch. "Hey, I actually made a mistake", he says, a little bit out of breath. You furrow your brows, curious. "The coat. I was too distracted by you and didn't realise it was actually my friend's. I'm sorry, but I can't sell his coat. You know, I need to avoid fighting with him, gotta keep the band together long enough for you to watch us", he said, winking at you.

"Sure", you laughed, and gave him the coat. "Here's your money, and I also my phone number, you know, just in case it comes in handy. I felt bad when I imagined you without your hip London coat, doing schoolwork alone. Maybe it will give you a reason to be excited for tomorrow, when you call me so we can go out for a drink", he says, a genuine smile on his face.

"Well, now aren't you conceited?", you both laughed. "It will come in handy. See you tomorrow, then", you said, and he said "See you", his smile still on his face, and turned around to walk back to his stall.

You turned around and left Kensington Market right as it started to rain. The raindrops were too cold for you to walk around without an umbrella, so you got in a cab, and spent the whole time thinking about destiny, how it united you with the guy that haunted your thoughts for the last few months. You wondered if maybe you found out more about yourself today: you believed in destiny.

And you were still lost in thoughts about destiny and Roger when the driver pulled up in front of your flat, and you were too distracted to notice that along with the money you gave him to pay for your ride, there was a small piece of paper with Roger Taylor's phone number on it.