What's a Lovejoy?

(1)

Chapter 1. I stopped for this?

First Person POV;

I forcefully swing the glass door open, exiting the small corner coffee shop. Clutching the carboard cup in one hand, I hold the door open for someone behind me. I attempt to make quick eye contact with the stranger but they're eyes casted daggers straight into the gum-filled street side walk. Why do I even bother? I huff as I watch the glass door swing back and forth before it clicks into place. I turn and start heading down a heavily urbanized street. I kept my head down and marched onwards. Something I picked up since my arrival in Brighton was to always keep your head down, no matter what. No eye contact with anyone besides you, in front or behind you. In this hollow fact, it was more easing and less anxiety bubbled within me. 

The crowd thickens as I enter the more populated area. Dodging was becoming incredibly hard as you would bump into the person in front of you 9 times out of 10. That's when it hit me. People. Too many of them. My heart flutters in my chest at the realization. Eyes widened, I look for a gap in the crowd to re-evaluate where my next course of action will take place.  

Eventually, I am able to escape to escape to an ally-way that lead me down towards a small isolated car park. I've never seen this part of Brighton before. I gaze around the desolate car park only to see a singular car laying dormant in its space. It had a small logo imprinted onto the car's rear. Although I couldn't exactly read the logo I assumed what it could be from what happened just then.

A man of a tall build stepped out of the car, a guitar case strapped to his back. 

"Thanks for the drive, I left the tip on the glovebox" He gently waves at the car, before slowly shutting the door. The driver drove away, the motor spluttered as it left. The man simply turned to my direction. He tilts his head and fastens the strap on his case. 

"Would you like a picture or-" a southern British accent broke the daunting silence. My eyes widen with surprise. 

"A-a photo? No thanks" I blurt out my words. He only smiles. 

"Fair enough. I never see anyone down this part of Brighton. How did you stumble across it?" He quizzes me. Heart thumping in my chest, I gulp as I think of a quick response. Nothing was flickering in my brain so I went with whatever left my mouth.

"Got lost in the swarm and found this on a-accident" I rub the back, clearly nervous. 

"Sounds like how I found it" He dryly chuckles. I smile slightly to acknowledge his statement. Was it a real genuine smile or faked? I really don't know. His eyes lit up in dismay and he swung the guitar case off his shoulder and placed it on the floor. He kneeled onto the cold bitumen and swerved the small zipper anti-clock wise to open the case. Eyes melted in relief as he gazes at his guitar. There lay a dark beige guitar with tight silver strings perfectly intact, almost. All but one string seemed to have survived the trip. The string broken curled over the snapped end over the string laying next to it. He groaned out loud and flipped the material of the case over. He seemed to forget I was still standing still because he jumped in his position at my sudden presence. 

"I'm sorry" He sighed, gazed a the floor. 

Confused, I ask "Are you saying sorry to me or your prize there?" He doesn't bother to look up to match my eyes. 

"Mainly you, But she also deserves a solid apology" 

"She?"

"She. My guitar" His expression grew dull.

"Ohhhh-" I sigh, eyeing the guitar. "I'm sure you'll be able to buy a new string soon enough" I replace my frown with an actual smile. I sip at my luke-warm tea. It had lost its steaming heat since it was first made. He looks up and smiles back.

"Yeah, eventually but I have band practice right now-" He quickly zips up the case and swings it over his shoulder. "Speaking of which- I should probably depart. Sorry for that-"

"No-no, don't apologize. It's all good" I shake my head. He seemed to carry a smile throughout this part of the conversation. He giggled.

"Its nice to see a British citizen not all stuck up their own a*s or apathetic" I lock eyes with him momentarily. 

"That makes me one of a kind then" He chuckles slightly at my statement.

"Well I'm off. I hope to see you around" He digs his left hand straight into his hoodie pocket. I nod. 

"Same goes for you" He nods in response and turns his back to walk towards the ally way. As he stalks away, he drops a small white fleck out from his pocket as he walks. I tilt my head and walk over quietly. I bend down a pick up the small scrunched up paper like material. 

"Uh, You dropped this!" I call out. No response. Face plummeting, I clench the scrunched up paper in my hand. The growing urge to unwrap the wrinkled paper loomed over me. Is it invading his privacy? Do I try and find him to give it back to him? Do I leave it here? Too many options, questions and possible outcomes. Who gave me the right to think and perform a decision. I gaze down at it. There's no harm right? I inhale sharply and pinch the sides of the scrunched paper to unravel it. As I unraveled it further it revealed black penned writing. When I finally realize what he wrote I scoff. 

The names Wil, ************* (Phone Number)

I smile and shake my head. 

He did not just hand me a phone number. I refuse to believe so. Its funny he thinks I'll end up falling head over heels for a man I only me for 5 minutes or even attempt to call him- 

But then again-

Why hello! So Uhm, This is my second book as some of you might have inferred- The start of the story is slow but I promise you it picks up shortly. So be ready. This is the first story I have had to plan in advance for, so yay me?

-Words 1072

-Rex :))