Place In My Heart

His eyes automatically landed on a girl with her back facing him. Excitement erupted in his chest as there was no doubt who it was, she was unmistakable. He'd never seen honey coloured hair that fell so far down a back, resting around the waist area. There wasn't another girl in Helmsley at that time who dressed so immaculately, or one that made his heart speed up a little.

In the two weeks she'd been there, they'd been around each other frequently, forced arrangements by their modern day Cupid or ones they organised willingly. Yet they were never alone, not after the tour. They were always surrounded by one band member or another and with Nina keeping a watchful eye on their behavior.

He started walking away from the shop he'd just stepped out of. It belonged to his mother and he'd spent a few hours that day assisting her. The pace of his feet hitting the pavement was slightly quicker than his usual casual stroll. All because he was determined to reach her before she noticed. Craftily he reached out to cover her eyes with his cold hands. He heard her gasp before she giggled, which was when he lowered his touch to her shoulders and spun her around.

"It's a good job I knew it was you." she scolded him playfully.

"Oh really? How did you know? It was the vibes wasn't it?" he smiled, then noticed the smokey haze that was lingering around them. "Coralie St. Clare, well I never. You have that live fast, die young attitude." he let the sarcasm lay thick in his tone.

One corner of her scarlet lips raised into a smirk as she brought the cigarette between here fingertips towards them. They parted slowly and deliberately, the quick flick of her tongue didn't go unnoticed either. Her teasing lips enclosed the filter before inhaling deeply. He hated how he was watching it so intensely, and he utterly loathed the sudden effect a filthy habit was having on him. He tore his eyes away, and tried to shake all the unsavoury images out of him hormone driven mind.

She let the hot smoke which had filled her lungs pour from her mouth and shift through the bitterly cold air. "You could call it that."

"You're a hypocrite," he jabbed an accusing finger close to her nose "you threw the packet of mine you found in the bin!"

"Completely different George, darling. I don't have a career that relies on me not getting throat cancer or something equally horrific. What will you do with yourself when you start getting all these complications due to rolled up chemicals? It doesn't seem worth it to me." she emphasised her lecture by throwing the cigarette on the ground and crushing it under the sole of her leather ankle boots.

"I'll stop when you do."

She smiled at his bargain softly, and reached out to shake his open hand. To seal the deal in a formal way. Even if this seemed to by harmless joking around, she knew he was being deadly serious. "Fine, when I tell you I've quit, you may never touch a single fag for the rest of your life. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good. Now, would you care to join me for a cup of tea?"

She was pointing over her shoulder to hint at where they would be going to. His blood ran cold as he read the quaint sign above the door that was all too familiar to him. The windows could still do with a good clean, as the grubby spots interrupted his quick scan of the cafe. He'd avoided stepping a foot in there, and he hadn't planned on entering it and reliving memories he was trying to escape.

He opened his mouth to refuse. String out a badly put together excuse about how he needed to go home for some reason or another. Yet the white lies lodged in his throat as he looked back to her hopeful face and he no longer wanted to hide.

"Only if I can pay." he smiled weakly as he held open the door for her. The bell tinkled obnoxiously as he did so, a sound that once used to uplift his heart. It just seemed irritating and outdated in his ears.

Every table was set up for two, with salt and pepper shakers and a stack of cheap napkins. He couldn't help but glare at one in particular that was vacant, apart from the ghost of his presence that still sat there opposite a girl. Nothing had altered, apart from his companion who he offered a seat to out of chivalry and a chance to access her under a different frame of mind.

They weren't dissimilar, Kiley and Coralie. Though their were contrasts in their personalities, even if there wasn't in features. Both were smaller than him with delicate frames, both naturally blonde. He found himself thinking how he favoured the warm glow of Coralie's when the light bounced from it, though. And how he preferred the depths of her royal green iris'.

"Do you bring all your girlfriends in here or what, George?" he looked up in alarm at the girl hovering beside him. The sour face of the waitress and ex-peer in school. He couldn't help but chuckle under his breath at her hostility, due to a comment he'd made several months ago.

"Stephanie, it's always a pleasure. Can we get a pot of tea between us?" he said in a bittersweet tone with is blue eyes wide with a look of complete innocence. One she didn't take kindly as she walked off in a storm.

Coralie sat, completely muted with a grief-stricken look on her face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dragged you in here. Nina did mention a set of places and topics to completely avoid and I've brought us to the worst one. I'm such a dunce, no wonder you've been awkward the whole time."

Without hesitation, he hand stretched out to grab a tight hold of hers. An action she wasn't expecting, even though it was a commonly used affection between the two of them.

"I was about to thank you for bringing me here, Cori." he said quietly, full of sincerity?

"Cori?" She repeated, blinking at the abbreviation.

It was then that a huge weight lifted off of George Craig's shoulders. He didn't feel as though he was crumpling under a mass he could carry, or that he was being repressed. With a simple smile from the girl opposite him, watching him curiously, he realised he didn't think of his past anymore. Whenever she was near, he wasn't obsessing over details of what was once his.

He was recovering, perhaps it was even recovered.