Eleanor Deyes: Zalfie's daughter

30- Starbucks

"Hey." I say, shyly.

"Hey. Are you free at the moment?" He asks.

"Yes. I am." I say, immediately.

"Okay. Maybe we can hang out in the Starbucks near your hotel?" He asks.

"Sure. Wait. How do you know where im staying?" I ask, a little freaked out.

"Because I followed you." He says.

Okay. A lot freaked out. Is this guy on drugs or something?

"Umm..." I say.

"Just kidding. I saw you go in while i was going back home." He says, laughing.

I let out a sigh of relief. I actually thought for a second that he was a creepy stalker.

"See you there?" He asks.

"Okay. I'm not making any promises though." I say, because there is a 75% chance that my mum would say no.

"Noted." He says.

I hang up and put my converses on. I put my phone in my pocket along with some money and my room card.

That may sound like a lot of things but its hardly anything. Plus, I have four pockets in my jeans.

I head out of the door and stand in front of my mum's and dad's room.

I take a deep breath and knock on the door. I can do this. I can do this!

"Hey El! What do you need?"

I can't do this.

"Um, actually I was going to Starbucks with a friend and I just came to ask your permission." I say.

She is going to say no. I'm 99.9% sure.

"Okay." She says.

Wow, that 0.1% left made a huge difference.

"Okay. I'll go now." I say, this is too good to be true.

"Be careful." She says.

"K." I say.

I go downstairs and exit the hotel.

Which way was Starbucks again? Right or left?

A girl who was looking down at her phone, passes by.

"Um, excuse me, hi, do you know where Starbucks is?" I ask.

"Oh my god! You're Eleanor Deyes!" The girl squeals.

Jesus! What have I done?!

"Do you know where St-"

"Can we take a picture?" She asks.

"Yeah. Sure. Just quickly. I need to be somewhere." I say.

"Okay." She says, opening her camera on her phone.

I smile at the camera and she takes the picture.

Soon, a few more girls notice and ask me for a picture. I notice another crowd of girls but I couldn't see the reason for it.

I finally finish taking pictures and they all walk away, not one person telling me where Starbucks was.

I pass the crowd, walking on my toes, trying to see what was causing it. But the girls were really tall so I just gave up.

I turn at the corner and there it was, Starbucks.

I go in and look around. I don't see Austin anywhere so I just sit on another table while I wait.

I start to check my phone, there was free WiFi here! I connect to the network and see that the people who took selfies with me were filling up my notifications at the moment. "Hi ma'am, would you like to order now?" A 20 year old waitress with a clear American accent asks.

"Um, I'm actually waiting for someone, I'll order when he gets here." I say.

"Oh okay, you look familiar though. Have I met you before?" She asks.

"No, I think you're mistaken." I say.

"Maybe. Its weird tho." She says.

I smile in response and she walks away.

I continue checking my phone and someone pulls the chair in front of me. I look up and see that it was Austin.

"Hey." I say.

"Hi." He replies.

He was about to sit down but he stops. "Where are my manners? May I sit here?" He asks.

"Of course." I say, smiling.

He's cute and has manners? This guy is perfect!

"Sorry that I'm late, I had an, uh, delay." He says.

"No problem, I actually had a delay too and I thought I was going to be late." I say.

"My delay was huge, trust me, you have no idea." He says.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Um, It doesn't matter." He says shaking his head.

Although I would want to know, I decide to let him have his space.

"What happened to you?" He asks.

The waitress comes, giving me time to think of my answer.

"A caramel latte please." Austin says.

"And you ma'am?" She asks.

"Um, a white chocolate mocha." I say.

That's what I usually order in winters. I just love it. It would be nice to taste one in America.

"Okay, your coffee will be here in about five minutes." She says, taking a step back.

"Thank you." I say politely smiling.

Austin looks at me, waiting for an answer. "It doesn't matter either." I say.

"Hm." He says.

"So, whereabouts in England do you live?" He asks.

"Brighton. Where do you live?" I ask.

"Here. In LA." He replies.

Within five minutes, I get to know that he's 17, he loves to read, he loves the color turquoise, he loves the seaside especially when its empty and that he knows French, Spanish and a little German.

He is a very interesting boy. I really want to know more about him.