Blue Jeans || h.s.

Chapter One.

" she's like cold coffee in the morning, she'll make me shiver without warning and make me laugh as if I'm into the joke. " -Ed Sheeran, Cold Coffee

-Two days before.

Coffee had always been one of my all time favorite drinks beside hot chocolate. Mostly anything containing caffeine was I liked, and everyone that knew me long enough were well aware of my obsession with the hot drink. Including the workers at the local café just across my beaten down apartment building.

As I walked towards it, a slight breeze caressed my already cold body and thankfully, soon I was sheltered by the scent of brewing coffee and the feeling of warmth.

Slipping into my favorite booth, beside the window tainted with raindrops, I looked outside watching the young college students and moms with their children and men with briefcases with frowns on their faces, I noticed that the world outside this café was sadder, and when I'm out there, so am I. But, when I'm sitting on the red booth couches in Arabella's Coffee Cup, I was relaxed and happy, in pure serenity.

"Coffee with whipcream and little milk, Miss M?" The solf and most definitely familiar voice of the old lady asked me. Meredith, who owned the café, already knew my daily order but always insisted in greeting me with her warm small and wrinkled eyes, always making sure I still wanted that. She was the nicest lady I had met, so compassionate and caring. In fact, she was the one who had helped me settle down once I touched down on the foreign country. Everything was new to me, I didn't know anyone and I had no where to go. I had little money, I didn't think I'd survived. But I was determined. I was determined to have an adventure and I wouldn't let a tiny difficulty get in the way. Okay, it wasn't exactly a tiny difficulty, but I knew I'd find a way. Thankfully, after first setting foot on this coffee shop, it being my first destination, it was late late at night. It was about to close when Meredith saw me and my scared face, deciding I needed a cup of coffee. Saying that a 'beautiful girl like me should never frown so deeply'. After that, she offered me a job, a place to stay and 6 months later, I became more independent. I found an apartment right across the shop and a job that payed more. All thanks to the 60 something old woman who served coffee with a warm smile.

"As always, Meredith." I said with a smile.

"I'll be right back."

I sighed, running a hand through my black hair, becoming annoyed when my chopped bangs fell right back to my face.

"Here you go." At last, my coffee cup was held between my cold fingers.

"Thanks." I said kindly in my american accent. I had moved here after rebelly running away from home at age 18, hopping into a plane from the city of Alabama and deciding that London was a nice place to get away. Surely, it was.

The cold and rainy weather was home to me. The accents were charming, and though some people were undeniably rude towards my american self, I tended to sometimes fake an accent just to avoid the rude posh people. It had only been a year since I had become accustomed to the british people, I was 19 now. I had skipped university, though I had a scholarship for a good school in California. But, it was all too overwhelming for me and when the pressure got too unbearable, I literally flew away, deciding that a year or two off would do me well. Plus, I needed some adventure if I wanted to be filled with good ideas for writing, right?

Sipping my cup I thought about how I was fired just yesterday from my night job at the restaurant owned by a mean forty something, old and bitter, woman named Martha. She had fired me because I didn't smile at a kid when he had asked me where the bathroom was.

How lame and stupid is that?

Very, very lame and stupid.

Anyways, she had always hated me for some reason. I was nice to my coworkers including herself though I did always snap at her in the most calm and sarcastic way, she always got irritated and never won a discussion against me; I was always right. She was always just looking for an excuse to get me to either quit, or a good reason to fire me in a way I ended up crying outside in that ugly dress shirt she always made us  wear.