When Beatle Met Lennon // h.s

Chapter Four - Defined by Mistakes

Four - Defined by Mistakes

Lost 

/lôst/

Adjective.

Unable to find one’s way; not knowing one's whereabouts.

Unable to be found.

I was lost and I wasn’t afraid to admit it. I was afraid, however. More than a little bit. I was a lotter bit scared. I realize it probably wasn’t the best idea to run away from Beatle and Parker, seeing as they knew London and the surrounding area better than I did. But I had to get away, it had just become too much.

I check my phone for the time and wipe away a few stray tears that had escaped. My eyes widen as I realize what time it is, 6:57PM. So I had spent at least 6 to 7 hours with Beatle, walking around, playing the guitar/singing and just goofing off in general.

I smile slightly, musing over today. I got to see one of my best friends again after she had been away and caught up with her and Mikayla. Then, instead of going back to the Loft to finish my homework as I had intended, I had met a complete and utter stranger, got dressed up in crazy costumes and traipsed all around London, busking and creating havoc.

I glance up from looking at the pavement and find myself walking down a familiar street, completely cut off from the bustle and noise of the London world. I quickly find the grocery store and walk in, grabbing a packet of sour worms just to give me something to chew on and calm my raging stomach, at least slightly. Along the walkway, I peer into the shops, boutiques and florists, looking for the familiar faces of the owners. When we first moved to London I had found this street a few behind where the Cove was. I look for the cute little café I had found last time. I find it and glance at the name; La belle et la bête [Beauty and the Beast].

I smirk. A French name for an English café. And the owners weren’t even French. I shrug and walk inside, thanking any and all gods that at least it was still open. I scan the shop, chewing on a orange worm, rolling it around in my mouth, and find the shop to be almost empty, save for a young couple who looked about my age and the baristas. I walk over to one of them and ask if it would be alright if I stayed for an hour or so. The guy nodded, gaping at me slightly. I give him a questioning look and glance down. I let out a surprised laugh, nearly spitting out my sour worm, gaining the attention of the young couple in the corner. I had forgotten, for a while, about what I was wearing. I’m surprised it took me this long to realize that my feet were killing me, due to my heels.

Instead of walking over to sit on a chair like anyone else would do, I just collapse in a heap on the floor, bring my knees up to my chest, so as to untie the buckle and take them off. When I had fallen the barista boy had lunged slightly to catch me, and failed. I looked up at him and waved my shoe in front of his face.

“My feet were dying. Did you really expect me to walk over to a chair with dying feet? No, I think not.” I say, moving on to take off the other shoe, ignoring his embarrassed yet wary face. The couple in the corner chuckle at my response, although they had both risen from their chairs when I had fallen to the floor. I look over at them and grin. I pick up my shoes in one hand and the bag of sour worms in the other, one sticking out of my mouth already. I waltz over to them and notice the boy look slightly nervous and apprehensive, as if he was expecting something bad to happen. I focus on that, trying to figure out why, just to take my mind off my own problems. I feel bad for ditching Beatle and Parker, but what’s done is done.

Once I reach their table, I plop down next to the boy, chuck my shoes under the table and the bag of lollies on top, then stick my hand out for the girl to shake.