It was a peculiarly nice day in London. After monotonous grey skies day after day, any visible patch of blue was eagerly welcomed.
When I arrived at the cafe, Jack was standing outside rather than sitting at our usual table.
"Why aren't you inside already?" I asked. I poked my head around him to see inside the cafe; as I had expected, there were plenty of spaces.
"You do realise there are places free."
"I thought we could go somewhere else. It's not very often you get a partially sunny day in London, in early spring nonetheless."
"You sound like an old lady."
He sighed, "you know, Matilda, I'm still waiting for the day that you don't insult me in some way."
"Just keeping your ego in check," I said with a wink.
He scoffed, and muttered something under his breath about being bullied.
"So, where are we going?"
"I was thinking St James' park? The one near Buckingham palace."
"That's fancy."
Jack shrugged his shoulders, "it's nice. And there shouldn't be too many people there in the morning."
"I don't think I've been there before."
Jack looked at me incredulously. "Seriously? But you live in London."
"Never really had a reason to go there."
"Well, I guarantee after you've seen in today, you'll want to go back."
"We'll see."
"Right." Jack said suddenly. "Less talking, more walking."
"Since when were you eager to do any form of exercise."
"What did I say about the talking, Matilda?" He said, with a stupid grin on his face.
So we headed off towards Buckingham palace; only, instead of Jack trying to keep up with my pace, I found myself stumbling after him for once.
Like Jack had said, there weren't too many people, which was nice. We chose a picnic bench so that Jack could sprawl his notebooks on it; he also insisted that we found one that faced the lake.
It was a nice spot; the morning sun filtered gently through the trees, making dappled patterns on our skin. And the grass beneath our feet, and plants that lined the lake, glistened vibrantly with dew drops.
"So, are we ready to go work?" Jack asked, but it was most likely rhetorical, as he already started pulling out a folder from his bag.
"What's first?"
"I was thinking scenery and setting."
"Jack, just out of curiosity, why don't you do this yourself? I'm even less creative than you are."
"Doing things on my own is boring. Besides, I'm paying you, so I may as well get my money's worth." He teased.
I rolled my eyes, "but what I'm trying to say is, that I don't think my input will be very helpful."
"Well, we'll just have to wait and see."
The next couple of hours mostly consisted of Jack rattling off suggestions for places in which the novel could be set.
He wanted London, I wanted Paris.
Naturally, we decided on Paris.
He also read out some rough drafts of scenes, which I approved or disapproved, based on how realistic the setting would be for a thief.
Surprisingly enough, we made a decent amount of progress. That was until Jack brought out the banquet of food he had stuffed in his bag.
"Oh Jack, I thought we were actually making progress for a minute there." I said mockingly.
"Do mof me" he said, a mouth full of a cheese sandwich.
He chewed and swallowed, before trying again. "Don't mock me, you know how I am with food."
"Where does it all go? And I know you don't exercise, like at all."
"Fast metabolism I think." Jack said, looking down at his stomach.
"Oh, you're one of those people."
"Hey," he said pointing an accusing finger at me. "Stop verbally abusing me, and eat a doughnut."
Before I could protest, he shoved a chocolate doughnut in my mouth.
"There, that should keep you quiet for a little bit." He said, an amused expression still tugging at his lips, and crinkling his eyes.
I tried to glare at him, but the sweet deliciousness of chocolate icing softened my mood a little.
We stayed for another few hours, until the tourists trickled in slowly.
Jack suggested finishing off our session back at his apartment. Not wanting to go back to my own, I accepted.
As I walked beside Jack, down the busy streets of London, I wondered whether or not my reluctance to go back to Lexi and Zona was the only reason I said yes to Jack's invitation.
It was hard to ignore the fact that I was becoming gradually more comfortable with his company. Especially considering that when we first met, I couldn't even say his name without flinching.
I suppose to me, Jack was safe. He didn't exactly have his life together, a fact which was highlighted by his clumsiness. He wasn't a thief, he was honest. And despite his occasional arrogance, and annoying tendencies, he was kind.
At first, his ceaseless acts of kindness unnerved me; it wasn't something I was used to.
Of course, I was friends with Lexi and Norbert, though I don't think we ever fully trusted each other. It was all about survival in the thieving world; you always put yourself first, then everyone else second.
But here was Jack, helping me over and over again, always offering more.
Whether or not it scared me, or relieved me, I begrudgingly admitted to myself, that I now considered Jack as a friend.
*
"I've already made some rough sketches of potential characters."
Jack explained, shuffling through a stack of papers.
He neatly placed his selected drawings in front of me. There were a few similar, and a few different figures.
A couple of male characters; one had a mischievous look about him: tousled hair, stubble, and a dangerous smirk. The other: a buzz cut, soft jaw, and a reserved stance.
The other three were girls. But they were all slight variations of each other. Wiry frames, subtly wavy locks, and shy, doe eyes. I couldn't help but see myself in the small sketches.
"What happened to all the sketches you had of me before?"
Jack rubbed his neck; a movement I realised he did when embarrassed or uncomfortable. "I used those for inspiration for these three sketches." He said, pointing to his drawings.
"You can tell you have a strong character just by looking at you." He said sheepishly, a pink tint in his pale cheeks.
"That's why I drew so many of you... It's like you jumped straight out of a novel."
"You're talking too much," I said with a small smile, to reassure him. Without context, his sketches of me were beyond strange. But now, I couldn't help but feel just a little bit flattered.
"I like this one." I said, picking up the second sketch of the girl selection.
"I was leaning towards that one too," Jack said, collecting the other drawings.
"What kind of personality does she have then?"
I suddenly felt strangely protective of the character; there was part of myself in her after all.
"What kind of flaws should she have?" I asked Jack, unsure of how to properly structure a literary character.
"They can be obvious, or subtle" Jack paused for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in pensive thought. "How about stubbornness." He suggested, a teasing light in his eyes.
I folded my arms in protest, "I know what you're hinting at, Jack. I'm not stubborn."
He smiles even wider, "you do realise you just proved my point."
"Whatever, fine. She can be a bit stubborn...But more of a 'cocky' stubborn, a bit of a know it all. You'd know about that, Jack. Wouldn't you?"
He held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. I deserved that. But I actually quite like that idea." He said, scribbling some words down around the figure.
"Are we giving her a name yet?"
Jack shakes his head. "I'm very picky about names, I normally delay choosing them to the last minute."
Nevertheless, I spent a good amount of time suggesting names, whilst Jack wrote messy lines in his notebook.
"What about Delilah? I love that name."
He just gave me a look, tired of trying to explain why he doesn't need any name suggestions.
"Why don't we have a break. I'm starting to get a bit of a headache. Do you want anything."
I nodded, "the usual please."
He got up from the sofa, and I watched him shuffle to the kitchen.
I was beginning to look forward to these simple moments; Jack just had this energy about him, that made even the most uncomfortable of silences enjoyable.
I wasn't concerned about how long Jack would need my help for, especially because he was still giving me money. Now, I was more worried about when these days would end. After all, he's going to have to finish the book someday.
"Jack."
"What's up?"
"How much planning are you going to do before you actually start writing?"
"I suppose when I feel I have a good enough plot. Why'd you ask?"
I shrugged my shoulders, "just wondering how much longer I'm going to have to put up with you." I said nonchalantly.
"A bit longer I'm afraid," he said, bumping his shoulder lightly with mine.
"I mean, just because at some point you won't be able to help me plan anymore, doesn't mean we can never see each other again. Right?"
I could tell Jack was trying to be lighthearted, but his eyes were flitting, and his fingers twitching.
"Right." I said softly, almost whispering. I couldn't give him any assurance; if I wanted to keep him and the apartment safe, it would be best to keep them distant. And the more time I spent around Jack, the more dangerous and risky this whole ordeal became.
I sighed to myself, and decided that now wasn't the time to worry. I'd done enough of that recently to last me a lifetime.