LOOKOUT

PART 1: REUNION

Maybe if I changed his name I wouldn't be in this position.

When I walked into my local coffee shop today, I was not expecting to bump into any of my former university classmates, let alone Aubrey, better known as the man starring in my bestselling fantasy romance books, Lookout for the Emeralds. The man who most definitely knew these books featured him as I used his name and characteristics to describe my hero, a handsome yet mysterious prince. I have never more in my life wanted someone to walk in and shoot me in the fucking face.

Aubrey's deep brown eyes lit up with recognition when he caught mine on the other side of the busy café, and almost in slow motion, I watch as he walks over to me, head held high and that same boyish smile he had when we were stupid eighteen-year-olds. He towers over me and before I could react, I'm engulfed in a warm embrace.

"Bey! I cannot believe out of all the cities I would bump into you in New York!" he says.

"I can't believe it either," I reply awkwardly. After graduating from University in Edinburgh and releasing my first book, I moved somewhere far away from everyone I knew. Especially Aubrey.

He looks different, even though it has only been 5 years. His hair is longer, spilling into bangs that frame his much more defined face. The freckles splattered over his face with the summer heat. He looks different yet still has the same charming looks that made me want to immortalize him in the pages of my books.

Realizing we were just quietly staring at each other, I decided to break the silence.

"So, what are you doing here? What have you been up to lately?" I ask awkwardly.

"Well, right now I'm grabbing an iced latte. In the long run? I've just recently got a job as a publisher." He responds. "What about you?" He asks.

His eyes lock onto mine for what feels like eternity, I feel my face go hot and I break eye contact. "Uh...well as you may know, I'm just living it up as a burnt our writer. Kinda like half the fools in this city." I laugh stupidly.

"Oh yes! You wrote those crazy popular fantasy books, right? I never got around to reading them no matter how much I tell myself I will." He says, scratching the back of his head bashfully.

My ears perk up at this. If he didn't read the books, that means he doesn't know about the weird fixation I had on him since the first day of university, which means he isn't here to call me creepy freak and throw hot coffee on my face.

Yet, I remind myself. I can't avoid the fact that the books are popular and I'm one of his classmates. Eventually he'll read them. A wave of nausea washes over me.

"Don't read them!" I exclaim loud enough that I startle myself. Aubrey's eyes widen and a few people standing behind us in line turn to give me a dirty look. I feel myself turning red and I quickly backtrack. "Ahh... what I mean is, you don't have to. If I remember correctly, you were all about horror books. I bet my books would be absolute torture for you." I laugh awkwardly. He visibly relaxes then and rolls his eyes at me. "You're kidding, right? Bey you were the best writer in our classes! If the teachers were too busy not grading our papers, they were singing praises about your work! I bet anything you write is something I'll never forget." He says, nudging my shoulder playfully.

You will never forget it, that's for sure; I think to myself.

I was about to say something about how I wasn't that good of a writer before a voice interrupts me.

"A h-honey matcha for Bey?" The young teenager says shyly but loud enough for me to hear. I startle a bit and turn to the barista. "Well, that's me. I need to go back and do some more writing, but it was great seeing you!" I tell Aubrey.

Honestly, I woke up today in the worst mood possible. I had a pounding headache and had a cigarette for breakfast. I was hoping to head back to my room and sleep for the rest of the evening but the moment I saw him again, his long blond hair and soft eyes, and the way they would glisten when he smiled, I suddenly had inspiration to write sonnets. I bet I can churn out at least three chapters for the next instalment of my book.

"Oh, okay. See you around," he says, looking almost disappointed.

Don't overthink this, I tell myself. I'm sure he was simply happy to see a familiar face.

I turn to grab my coffee and leave before a hand reaches out for me. "Wait," he says. My eyes widen, and I feel the heat between our hands. "Can I get your number? I would love to catch up," He says.

My face flushes and I nod, rummaging in my pocket for my phone. I fish it out and hand it to him wordlessly. I think anything I say will make him regret taking my number.

He types his number in and quickly dials before hanging up. He smiles at me, and I think I might choke. "There. I will text you, okay?" he says. I nod dumbly and mutter a soft "Bye," before leaving the coffee shop. I feel my head pounding like crazy. I need a fucking cigarette.