I Won't Let You Get Lost

A sigh escaped his lips as he sat in his usual spot, his ankles crossed behind the barstool's bottom rail. He took another sip of the piping hot latté and watched as mobs of people roamed the busy London streets. His eyes wandered towards the coffee shop's door; not a minute had gone by where the bell hadn't rung, prepping the baristas to take another order. He kept his shades on, masking his blue-gray eyes from everyone around him. A grey beanie covered his messy mop of hair, the hair that everybody recognized, no matter where he went. Those two features needed to be hidden at all times if there was going to be any hope of him having time to himself. He stared at the cup in his hands. Even coffee breaks were getting to be too much of a hassle. Again, he sighed. But the streets of London beckoned him, and hitting the sidewalks, even just for a few minutes of brisk walking, made the little disguise ritual all worth it.

As he pressed the coffee cup to his lips again, enjoying the moment of silence that had just passed him by, the door's bell rung once more, and the clacking of stilettos on the tiles caught his attention. Dozens of business women in pumps had passed by him this morning, but none with the heavy, angered, hurried pace of this particular one. His head turned and he watched as a petite brunette stomped aggressively into the coffee shop.

"Vente caramel macchiato, and throw three shots of espresso in there, will ya, love?"

He was surprised at how kind she had sounded placing her order. Her entrance had depicted something far more frightening than what he'd seen. He turned his body sideways, and watched as she and the barista continued their conversation.

"Shouldn't you be at work, Cade?"

She smiled half-heartedly. "Don't worry about that, Ian. Just fix me up my drink, please."

"Sure thing, hun."

"Thanks."

Her fingers dug through her wallet with fervour and precision, as if this was routine. He was somewhat impressed by her ability to dig out such an excessive amount of change in under 20 seconds, and be bang on with the price. He smiled to himself, his grip around his own coffee weakening. He played with the protective cover, spinning it around the cup as he watched the still somewhat agitated girl find herself a seat in an over-sized leather chair. She leaned back in the chair, letting it swallow her whole, and covered her face with her hand, as if she was fighting off a raging headache. He knew the feeling all too well, for it wasn't a headache, but hunger. He recalled his long days on set, and the natural position he always found himself in when he hadn't eaten in hours. He would slouch back in the closest makeshift seat and try to shroud himself from everything around him. It never worked. The only thing that satiated his dishevelled attitude was food. Slowly and swiftly, he got up from his seat, coffee in hand, and strolled up to the cash register.

"Hey, what can I do ya for?" asked Ian, the same young man the mystery girl had just been talking to.

"Yeah, can I have two blueberry muffins and a chocolate tart?"

The guy gave him a curious look, but he just smiled and nodded, punching in the numbers. "Five quid, 60p."

He slid a £10 note across the counter and thanked the man before pocketing his change and grabbing the bag full of treats. As he walked towards the unknowing girl, he reached over for some napkins from the mixing station in the middle of the coffee shop. He slid into the seat opposite the brunette and dropped the bag in front of her on the small table. The crinkling of the paper bag made her eyes flutter open and her arm fell into her lap. She looked up at him, her blue eyes studying his face. She frowned somewhat, feeling deceived by the fact she couldn't see his eyes.

"What's this?"

"Well, it's food, isn't it? Go on."

Her eyebrow rose. "Why in the hell did you buy me food?"

He chuckled. "Don't think it's cause I thought you couldn't afford it. I saw you order a coffee with 5 quid in change."

She eyed him surreptitiously, but reached for the bag anyways. "This is grand. I've got a stalker now." Her fingers poked through the top of the bag and she pulled out a blueberry muffin, her faint smile widening into a grin. "The way to a girl's heart is also through her stomach."

"Good to know," he smiled, reaching over and grabbing the muffin from her hand.

"Hey, what's that all about?" she asked, her face falling a bit. "I thought you said they were for me?"

He took a bite out of the muffin and chewed it carefully, watching her intently before he swallowed. "They are. Just not this one."

She sighed, reaching for the other muffin. "Looks like I'm not the only one with a thing for blueberry muffins."

He took another bite. "Love, I used to go through a carton a day of these things at home. My mum had to lock them up in the pantry so I couldn't get to them." He chuckled. "Then I got too tall, figured out where the key was and she sort of just gave up on me altogether."

A giggle escaped the confines of her pink lips and he found himself finding joy in making somebody else content.

"I'll be damned."

He tossed the wrapper on the small coffee table before looking back up at the girl. "What?" he chuckled curiously.

"It's just, my day was going to hell, and I was just about ready to jump out the bloody window."

His eyebrow rose and he took another sip of his latté. "Oh?"

"Yeah, and now a random chap just bought me baked goods and decided to sit beside me and talk to me." She sipped her drink, which Ian had kindly brought to her as the two had chatted. She engaged in smiling with the mysterious guy. "This sort of thing just doesn't happen every day, y'know?"

"I can't imagine why not," he mused. "Pretty girls should always have their alone time intruded on by a random chap."

"I imagine you'd think so."

"Clearly," he grinned.

She crossed her legs, studying his jaw line, his cheeks, every contour of his face. "Why are you wearing a hat inside? And sunglasses?"

"Well, that wasn't random in the least."

She smiled. "No, really. What are you hiding from?"

He bit his tongue. The words 'paparazzi' and 'shutterbug sods' threatened to stumble out of his mouth. "Nothing."

"My ass."

He smirked. "I like to keep a certain air of mystery."

"It's working, I'll tell you that."

"Good to know. I tend to stir up a lot of curiosity with my get-up, too." She leaned back and laughed, causing him to beam with pride. "It's true. Aren't you interested in what's hidden behind these?" he asked, gesturing towards the glasses and hat.

Her hands resting on the arms of the chair, she sat back in the comfort of the leather seat and bit her lip. "Sad to say, I am. I try not to be like everybody else and get sucked into the curiosities of the world. I'm unusual that way."

"Unusual perhaps, but you're still human. Curiosity is natural."

She reached over the table and touched her fingertips to the rims of the glasses. He didn't move, he didn't even breathe. He was also trying to wonder if he even cared. He watched her from behind the tinted frames, watched her hesitantly fumble around with the glasses. "Can I?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

She gave him a confused look, but slid the glasses off his face, anyways. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers and her heart skipped a beat. The coffee shop was silent as the expensive shades hit the tiles.

"You. I know you."

He smiled at her slyly. "I had a feeling you might."