Started With a Tube

Started With a Tube - Chapter 2

Started With a Tube - Chapter 2

I step out of the front door and close it shut behind me. It's cold and the sky is clouding darker. It's also colder, so I hug my jacket more tightly around me. Pressing my earphones in, I turn on my iPod, music filling my ears.

I make my way to the coffee shop that's down one of the back streets behind my house, leading on to the shops. It's small and homey, with warm lighting that sends a twinkling glow across the space. There are a mish-mash of ornaments and items placed around the shop; on shelves, on walls, on the ground. Basically anything that the owner could find, has a place somewhere.

Stepping through the door, I allow the warmth to slowly defrost my body. I look around the room and see only one other customer, an old man drinking a cup of tea in a white mug.

I order myself a hot chocolate and take a seat at a table with only one other chair. It's in the corner, so I feel secluded enough not to feel utterly self-conscious. I take a book from my bag and read it as I drink, feeling nostalgic and relaxed.

"So, you're a girl who reads," a voice says. "I knew it." I glance up and smile slightly, before letting my eyes drop back down to the book in front of me. I finish reading the page I'm on, even although it's rude, because it's a good book and I don't want to leave it at a bad point. I want to be able to pick it up and instantly be sucked back into it. When I'm done, I close it and lay it down on the table.

"Alec Jameson," I say as way of a hello. He smiles a typical teenage boy smile, one which makes his eyes crinkle and shine. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost on the streets of London."

"Something like that," he says, taking a drink of coffee. And then we talk. And it isn't the type of talking where lots of words are said, but nothing is really said; it's the type of conversation which actually conveys information that makes you think.

My favourite type of talking.

"So, have you lived in London all your life?"

"Yeah," I nod, spooning a melting marshmallow into my mouth. I let it melt before I continue. "I've only been abroad twice. We usually go to Ireland to visit my Nan in the holidays."

"What do you do in Ireland?" Alec asks, his head cocked every so slightly to the side. "I've never been, is it nice?"

"Yeah, it's nice," I nod, a smile creeping on to my face. "Lots of fields and grass," I chuckle, "I guess it makes a difference from city life. We usually just spend time with my, uh, family, going for walks, having barbeques, parties. My aunt owns a pub, which is joined on to my Nan's house where they both live, and on Wednesdays they have these musicians who come in and play their instruments and sing."

"Do you play?" he asks. "An instrument, I mean." I smirk.

"Maybe."

"You do! What do you play?" he asks, leaning forward. I stir my drink.

"Guess," I say.

"Why?" he asks and I shrug.

"Amuse me," I say. A bell chimes above the door to the shop, and a few customers trail in, a brisk breeze following in behind them. I look at Alec, and he's looking back at me, thinking.

"Okay, so, piano?" he says.

"God, no!" I laugh, shaking my head. "I'm not smart enough to learn the piano."

"Really?" Alec asks. "You look like you're smart."

"Is, uh, is that a compliment?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah, totally," he nods, and I grin.