‧₊˚ 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 ;
⤷ two hopeless romantics cross
paths , but what if their love
story isn't as they planned it to
be . . . ✧‧₊˚
ᥫ᭡ ‧₊˚george clarke x fem!oc
⤷written by ;...
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c a m d e n ,
IT WAS A FEW weeks later, yet nothing interesting had happened in Camilla's life since her run in with George at work.
She had never told Maisie when she came back into the shop, she found that this was something she wanted to keep to herself, something to smile about during a boring day at work.
When she was cleaning shelves, she often thought back to their conversation, remembering what was said in that exact point in time.
She recalled how drunk the man had actually been, and his puny attempts at trying to play it off. His casual swaying and the occasional slur on his words didn't go unnoticed by her. She wondered why he had been that drunk anyway, it was only 4pm on a Wednesday during their time of encounter. Especially with cameras following their group around, she found that to be rather odd.
She was in the middle of dusting, bent over on the floor with her head between a shelf, when the door rang loudly. This sudden noise made her jump, banging her head on the top of the shelf, and crawling out backwards. She stood up, clutching her head with a frown on her face, but quickly changed her expression when she saw who had walked through the door.
She smiled, watching the eyes of the recognisable George glance up at her head, before he eventually spoke.
"Are you alright?" He asked, his eyebrows still raised in surprise from when he heard the bang of collision upon his entrance to the shop, "I didn't mean to scare you."
"No, you're fine. It just caught me by surprise, thats all," She laughed, as she placed the duster down on the shelf she was previously cleaning and walked over to stand behind the counter, "I keep telling Maisie to get rid of that stupid bell, but she never listens to me."
"Maisie?" He questioned, walking towards the counter at the far end of the shop, where the worker he was talking to currently resided.
"Yeah, the owner. Well, and my friend, but you didn't really ask that," She laughed, glancing between him and the floor beside him, awkwardness getting the best of her.
"No, it's fine. How long have you known her?" He questioned, partially interested but mainly wanting to keep this conversation going, that was the main reason he came in here after all. He was walking outside and glanced at this bookshop, swearing he recognised it from something significant but not being able to recall what.
"I met her in college," Camilla nodded, smiling at him for being polite enough to want to hear her ramble, "She shared her dreams about wanting to open up a bookstore in Camden, and I offered my help. I was looking for a job anyway," She laughed.
George nodded, smiling at her seeming passion for her friends, finding it sweet how much she cared for the people around her.
"So, can I help you with anything, George?" She questioned, smiling at him and gesturing to the sports section, "In need of another football book?"
George furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, clearly not understanding what she was talking about. He skipped over the fact she knew his name. After all that was a regular occurrence since he blew up on TikTok. Instead, he rotated his head towards where she was gesturing too, hoping to understand her remark.
This however just made him more confused. She was just pointing to a random pile of books after all.
He turned back to her smiling face, still incredibly confused. "I'm sorry, what?" He laughed awkwardly, not wanting to sound rude.
She frowned, not understanding why he questioned her. Retracting her finger, which was aimlessly hanging in the air, she stared at him. She was at a loss for words, not sure what to say.
After a few beats of silence, she resulted in bursting out laughing, immediately covering her mouth with her hand as an attempt to drown out the uncontrollable giggles that were trying to escape her mouth.
In response, George laughed as well, however much more awkwardly than the girl in front of him.
He scratched his head while the worker before him calmed down, silently hoping she would explain herself and he could escape from this awkwardness.
She eventually spoke up, smiling up at the man ahead of her, no matter how she felt inside.
Her answer was meant to help George, not confuse him even more. Instead, she just responded with, "Do you not remember me?"
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