hiatus : c.t.h.

"adventure"

STUD: i think we should go on an adventure

With a sigh of frustration, Ciara lets her pen slam down on the table and picks up her phone, opening Calum's message.

ME: Does your adventure involve something that'll help me figure out what to write for this magazine entry?

STUD: i mean.. i could tweak it that way, sure

ME: What did you have in mind?

ME: You have exactly forty five seconds before I have to start writing again.

STUD: geez hang on a sec

STUD: okay how about we go on your weird walk thing... but at night

Ciara narrows her eyes a little as she types.

ME: How adventurous of us.

STUD: have you ever been in the city at night, Sassy?

ME: ... Once

ME: On a school trip

ME: But it counts!

STUD: c'mon. it's so much better at night. i go and busk by the eye around seven or so every thursday, and once i'm done we can go walk around

STUD: do some dumb touristy stuff

STUD: since i am all foreign and stuff

ME: And stuff.

STUD: are you comin or not Writer Girl

ME: don't call me that

ME: and fine

STUD: yAY

STUD: i'll see you tonight then

STUD: i'll be done round nine

ME: But that's past my bedtime!!1!

ME: Kidding. I'll be there.

STUD: ha wow you're so funny much wow

///

When Ciara walks out of Waterloo Station at 8:49, she's immediately stricken by how unfamiliar the familiar surroundings look. The towering business building cast long shadows across the street, and the London Eye is lit up against the dark sky. The streets are just as crowded, but with girls in high heels and tights, and with staggering men with loud, slurred voices.

Ciara's heart immediately begins to beat faster, and she shoves her hands into her hoodie's pockets and hunches her shoulders in an effort to look small. She keeps her head down as she makes her way up the stairs that lead to the riverside.

A man bumps roughly into her as she reaches the top of the stairs and as she keeps walking, he calls after her, "Watch where the hell you're going!"

She walks faster after that, practically jogging across the pavement to the Eye, where she sees a small crowd gathered around a figure seated on the ground with a guitar. When she reaches the edge of the crowd, she threads her way in between the people to reach the front.

Calum is looking down at his guitar, but he glances up when his peripheral vision catches sight of movement. A grin breaks over his face when he sees her, and he raises a finger of his strumming hand as if to say, "Just a minute."

Ciara takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and letting the music soak into her skin, calming her pulse and slowing her breathing. London at night was no place for a girl like her.

///

"Thank you." Calum flashes a smile at the man who dropped five pounds into his case. "Thank you. Thank you."

When the last onlooker walks away, he stands up and packs his guitar carefully away, slinging the unwieldy package onto his back. "So," he turns to Ciara. "How do you like it at night?"

"Scary," she replies almost instantly. He notices that her hands are shoved elbow deep into her pockets, and she stands almost defensively, like she's afraid someone's going to knock her down. "More - untamed. Like there are fewer rules."

"Fun," he says, his eyes lighting up. "You can do whatever you want."

"Terrifying," she counters him.

"C'mon, Writer Girl," he teases, slinging an arm around her shoulder and starting down the South Bank. "No one's going to hurt you. And even if someone wanted to try, I'll hurt them first. Got it?"

She tenses at first, but relaxes a little as they walk. "Got it."

He can feel her looking at everything. The river, lit up with the reflection of a hundred street lamps. The buildings, tall and imposing and shadowy. The people, moving in flocks, loud, laughing flocks. The sky, clouded and inky blue, with a partially shrouded quarter moon hanging in the center of it. "Pretty, isn't it?" he says quietly.

"Beautiful," she replies, almost reverently. "I could write about this. Use it as a scene for something. Maybe for a murder or a robbery - it makes you feel that way. Like something's going to happen. But it's so peaceful that it would provide delicious contrast to something like that happening, you know?"

Calum can't do anything but chuckle, still trying to process the rapid fire words that just came flying out of her mouth. "Um - no, I don't know, but it sounds great," he says.

To his chagrin, her face falls. "Right," she mutters. "Sorry, I forgot most people don't like to hear me go on about writing."

"No!" he rushes to correct her. "No, I just - I've never heard you talk like that. I don't think you've said three consecutive sentences to me before. I was just surprised." He pauses for a second, and then, a little quieter, he says, "You're really smart, aren't you?"

"What? No, I'm not. I'm just a nerd."

"No, you are. No one I know looks at the sky and can analyze how it makes you feel and how to provide contrast to that feeling with a book. That's special."

///

"Well, thank you," she says, feeling her face get a little hot. "It's the only cool thing I can do."

"Music is the only cool thing I can do," Calum says. "Well, football. I could do football. But other than that."

"You play football?"

"Played. Gave it up for the band." He laughs, a bit ruefully. "Bad choice, it seems now. I was on track to playing for university, and then getting recruited. And here I am on the streets of London."

"But you must've liked music better. Or you wouldn't have given up football."

"I did, yeah," Calum sighs. "I've always been a follow-your-heart-not-your-head-and-also-your-parents-and-friends-and-teachers kinda guy."

"Were your parents supportive of your band at all? Or did they want you to play football?" Ciara knows she's probably prying, but he knows about her family, so she figures it's fair.

"They were supportive, but they always told me not to get my hopes up. They didn't want me getting hurt."

Before Ciara could say anything else, she feels Calum tug her forward abruptly. "Hey!" she protests.

"Bikes!" he points toward a rack of blue bikes, the kind you rent. "Let's rent some!" he says, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Cal, it's late, we probably shouldn't."

"Aw, c'mon. It'll be fun!"

Rolling her eyes, Ciara says, "Fine, but the last train to Weybridge leaves at 11:19. You have two hours."