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“Well, I hope to be if all goes to plan.”
Mark leaned closer, so he’d be heard above the booming pub soundtrack. That scent again…the same one from the Royal Court lobby. He smelled yummy.
“I’m in awe of people like you, bringing an idea to life on the page. If you ever want your work-in-progress performed, let me know. My actor mates and I love workshopping new plays and helping up-and-coming writers.”
His dark eyebrows rose to punctuate his point. “We’re all in this performing lark together. Theatre’s a team sport. Us creative types need to support each other, you know?”
Alex blushed at his unexpected offer. “Thanks so much. I’d like that.”
His kindness sounded genuine, and in Freddie’s words, he was adorable, but what if he wasn’t everything that he seemed? She’d trusted an actor before and look how that turned out.
• • •
By 7 o’clock, Freddie and Mark were on their way to the theatre, leaving Alex and Lucy to juggle a pressing decision—whether to pool their resources to purchase two more drinks or to call it a night and disperse into the brisk London air. In lieu of a decision, Lucy bit her lip and stared at Alex.
“What? Do I have ketchup on my face or something?”
Lucy cocked her head to the side, eyebrows raised as if to say “you know what I mean.”
“Mark?”
“Pretty fit, right?” said Lucy, toying with her petite ruby and gold ring, a cherished heirloom from her gran.
Alex stalled cautiously, not knowing if Lucy had her eye on Mark or if they had history. And she still wasn’t sure if he was seeing Freddie. So confusing…
She went the non-committal route. “He’s lovely, yeah.”
“I knew it. You drooled over him like he was a cartoon steak!”
“I did not.” Alex carefully chose a different line of questioning. “Are he and Freddie…together?”
Lucy burst out laughing, knocking over her pint glass. “Freddie wishes!”
She snatched the remaining napkins strewn in front of her, blotting up the fast moving trickle of beer. “No, they’re just mates. Mark’s as straight as they come. Freddie flirts with him in fun, and Mark thinks it’s endearing. He’s a cool guy, very protective of Freddie. I have to admit, I fancy him. I mean, how could anyone not? And as far as I know, he doesn’t have a girlfriend…”
Twelve
Alex swore she had spring fever. Excited and optimistic, she had kicked the sleepy haze that had troubled her during her first week. Now with two weeks at the Tasty Munch café under her belt, she slapped together bacon ‘sarnies’, chip ‘butties’, and all-day breakfasts with aplomb. Regular customers raved about Alex’s scrambled eggs and milky coffees, and began asking the owner for her by name. She even scored a few healthy tips. Best of all, she finished her shift at one and had plenty of energy left to tackle several hours of writing at home.
It didn’t feel like the first Friday of June. It felt more like July in Tallahassee based on the short-sleeved tops and light fabrics Londoners were sporting. An unexpected heat wave hugged the southeast of England, and London basked in its humid embrace. Jolly Brits skipped out of work early, spilling onto pub sidewalks across the city, toasting the beautiful weather with their well-earned pints and glasses of wine. Sunbathers, rambunctious toddlers, and excitable canines dotted every grassy square and park. Even Londoners temporarily stuck commuting underground seemed softer, more open and friendly. The dank days of May were truly over, and London couldn’t wait to chuck its brolly and wiggle its toes in the lush green grass.
Alex popped on her sunglasses and practically danced out of Tasty Munch. The weekend starts now! At seven, Freddie and Lucy were meeting her at St. George’s Tavern on Belgrave Road. A short walk from Lucy’s office, it made for the perfect venue for a departing coworker’s leaving do. Payday was still another week away, and cheap entertainment options were currently few and far between. The promise of free booze and sausage rolls—too tempting to ignore.
And then tomorrow, Bespoke’s official opening bash, but first, a date with a coffee shop and her writing. A quick pit stop at home for her laptop, and she’d be all set.
She glanced at a guy wearing a helmet, straddling a red Vespa parked by the curb.
“Alex?”
She slowed her pace, lifting her sunnies from her eyes and following the voice, escaping on the breeze.
“It is you!” The mystery man lifted the visor and pulled off the helmet, revealing a beaming, tousled Mark. His black hair pointed up and sideways while his brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “Hello, stranger!”
“Mark! You live around here?” Alex’s eyes darted between his smile and the scooter.
“Not even close. My flat’s in East Acton…west west London.” He smoothed down his hair, the grin taking up permanent residence. “I had an audition at the Hackney Empire this morning. Crazy running into you here.”
“I live beside London Fields, and I work there.” She pointed to the tiny Mare Street café.
