Finding you in New York.

2.

Benedict stopped by Tom's bar on the way home. He just went in for one, after tonight he needed it. Seeing Penelope like that was different. It was... unexpected. She had always been 'off limits' per se, but if he was truly honest, he had never even considered her in such a light before. But seeing her here? Now? It seemed like... fate.

Could it be?

Benedict Bridgerton was always a sensible man who never expected too much from life, which was funny as his brothers were the complete opposite. Anthony (the eldest) demanded things from his life, whereas his younger brother Colin lived in a 'delusional' universe where everything came freely. Benedict on the other hand always struggled to find the joy in life following the typical 'rich boy moulding', so unconventionally, he enjoyed his art, his quiet life, and always avoided to 'settling' into societal expectations.

However.

This past year a shift happened. Maybe it was when he held his nephew Edmund for the first time, or when he saw his younger sister Daphne get married. But something deep down within him started to ache. To long... for more. That's what kicked started the 'New York' dream, and led to his new job, life and experiences right now.

He sat at the bar while Tom slid him over a beer.

"Jeez mate, what's got you in deep thought?"

Tom was polishing glasses and leaning against the back of the bar. Tom bought this bar around six years ago after he moved to New York with his American girlfriend. The relationship quickly dissolved after six months, but instead of returning home to England, he bought a bar and set up home in downtown NY. He told Benedict he had not looked back since. It was a corner bar, heavily sports themed, and extremely comfortable. At least Benedict thought so. Everything about it felt familiar, like home, that's probably why Benedict never drank anywhere else.

Benedict sipped his beer and sighed while rolling a drink coaster through his fingers, "It's nothing really, I just ran into someone I wasn't expecting tonight."

Tom smirked, "A woman?"

Benedict nodded.

"Ahh, I see."

Benedict sipped on his beer, unknowingly his lips had formed a slight smile.

"She must be gorgeous."

Benedict whipped his head up, "What makes you say that?"

Tom laughed, "Mate it's written all over your face."

Benedict laughed into his beer. Tom was right. But gorgeous wasn't the right word for Penelope. She was much more than that. His mind was plagued with images of her lying on that chaise, the image of her was now forever burned into his memory. He couldn't shake her. She was ethereal, she was a goddess, she was... perfection. He had never allowed himself to look at her like that, Jesus, Eloise would have killed him. Plus, she had always been in the corner, she had always been quiet, but seeing her confident..., well, it certainly opened his eyes.

FUCK.

He still hadn't got her number. He knew if he asked one of his siblings, or even his mother it would no doubt start the Bridgerton rumour mill (and he couldn't be bothered with all that). Too many opinions and questions. So his next bet was Gen, he searched through his phone for her number from an old works night out 'group chat'.

Benedict: Hi Gen, I was wondering could you send me Penelope's number?

Gen: Why?

Benedict: I walked her home tonight, and I was hoping to see her again.