In alignment with our grand facade, Finn was meeting me at South Bank. He was already fifteen minutes late, but it was a clear, crispy afternoon and the sun was high in the sky, so luckily for him, I was in a good mood. It was a little warmer than expected for mid-October, but the British weather was a temperamental thing, so I'd ensured to wear a winter coat.
I was sitting on the steps at the end of Westminster bridge while scrolling through my Twitter feed when something ruffled my hair, and I instinctively flailed my hands to swat it.
'Do you not get bored of that?' I snapped as I shot my head up to look at Finn.
'Not even slightly,' was his response as he plopped himself beside me with his infamous hardback on his lap, then scanned my face with his bright eyes. 'You should wear your hair up more often. It suits you.'
'What? It's—I've not had time to wash it,' I mumbled.
I stood up as I tightened my high ponytail, which had loosened significantly after Finn's interruption. I'd sold Harriet some spiel around how he and I had planned to do some touristy things that weekend, and we both figured South Bank ticked the tourist box perfectly.
'Thanks,' I said after we took a photo I'd deemed adequate for my private Instagram. 'You can head home, if you want.'
Finn scoffed. 'Piss off, zone 1. I didn't trek all this way to stay ten bleedin' minutes, then leave.'
I wasn't sure if being referred to as zone 1 was better or worse than his usual way of addressing me.
He clicked his tongue. 'Tate Modern is free, right? I'm dying to see the lobster telephone.'
'Yes, although I'm sure Salvador Dalí is turning in his grave at that nonchalant comment.'
'Amazing. Tate Modern it is,' Finn replied as he stood upright from the wall he'd been leaning against, and started walking east. 'Feel free to join.'
I remained still, my feet planted on the ground as he continued strolling ahead. Crowds swarmed around me as my mind worked at a hundred miles an hour because there wasn't any real reason not to accompany Finn; I had no other plans that day, and I enjoyed museums. In fact, Harriet would've loved the mere suggestion that I'd visited a gallery with my faux boyfriend, given her career as a literal artist.
'It would help if you didn't walk at a ridiculous speed!' I shouted to Finn as I scurried after him.
It wasn't until we were queuing for tickets at the museum that I questioned what on earth I was doing. I wasn't that desperate for fake dating content, and reality was that I should've probably started to consider laying some foundations for our fake break up. Casper and I hadn't yet reached the realms of exclusivity, but things were going well—so well, in fact, that the idea of him accompanying me to Harriet's wedding in February didn't feel completely ridiculous.
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A Suitable GentlemanRomance
Countryside girl turned Londoner, Rosie Eden-Porter, must release her inhibitions and overcome her obsession with finding the perfect man before she single-handedly sabotages her own love life. ...