Sophia's P.O.V
Restlessy tapping my feet on the floor, I checked the watch on my wrist; he should be here any minute now. Whoever he was "the tutor". The guy who I'd been literally forced on by my parents to help me with my French. I never considered myself as being a total loser at languages, in fact I was very good with words; but
the never ending grammar, exceptions and pronounciation of French just wouldn't get in my head. No matter what I did and tried, it just wouldn't stick. So now here I was. Waiting in the local Starbucks for the son of my father's friend to arrive; the twenty-something UNI student who was supposed to be my tutor.
Of course I was glad to be having someone who could help me improve my French, to help me not to completely fail my exams. But on the other hand, I was genuinely pissed off that it had to be someone who supposedly had gone to the same school as me and graduated with topnotch grades. So naturally, I was expecting some geek with bad skin and 10 cm thick glasses, who smells and has never been near a girl.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I pulled the hair rubber off my wrist and put my long, dark brown hair into a messy updo; not caring a bit about how I looked for that freak. Maybe my prejudices and thoughts about that guy were harsh, seeing as I hadn't even met him and didn't know one thing about him - except that he was a law student and a few years older than me. That was it; that's all I needed and frankly, all I wanted to know about him.
Harry's P.O.V
I rubbed my hands together fiercely as I stepped into the coffee shop from the harsh spring air and immediately scoured the busy room. I knew exactly what I was looking for; some orange bimbo caked in make-up that had fallen behind with her studies by focusing most of her efforts on to boys and climbing the social ladder; probably wearing something equally as obvious. I was old enough to know not to pre-judge, but I'd come across these types before, so I felt justified in my otherwise unfair expectations.
I'd made an agreement my dad - at a price of course - that I'd help this daughter of a family friend catch up with her French, a subject that I happened to excel in at A Level. All I had to do was meet her for an hour a week, tweak her grammar and pronounciation skills, and I'd have an extra few nights out in my pocket. I didn't have to be friendly; nor did I have to really make any conversation with her at all, apart from the occasional small talk before each meeting I guess. So all in all, I had landed myself a pretty fair deal.
Failing to locate this "tutee" of mine, I walked to the counter and grabbed myself a coffee. She was probably using these meetings as an excuse to meet whichever boy was starring in her weekly whore conquest, something I'd had quite a bit of experience in during my teen years. Either way, I needed the caffeine boost, and 20 minutes sitting in the warmth - whether she showed up or not - would be no skin off of my back.
I thanked the cashier and took a seat at the small table in the corner of the café, setting my old notes upon the table in the small chance that she might show. I flicked my gaze up from my mug every time the bell rang at the opening of the door, analysing each person as they entered. I was pretty sure she wasn't a sixty year old man or expectant mother with two children, so I pulled my blackberry from my pocket and called my dad.
"How do you know she'll be wearing a green coat? "
I laughed in response to my dad's poor attempt at a description of her, subconsciously rolling my eyes around the circumference of the room, only to pinpoint said item.
Bingo.
Sophia's P.O.V
"Hey." My stomach lurched as a deep voice broke my concentration, my shoulders instantly tensing as I snapped my attention to my left.
"Sophia, right?"
He rested his hand on the nape of his neck as we took a few moments to awkwardly analyse one another, both forcing a nervous half smile as we did so. My preconceptions were spot on, minus the glasses, spots and bad dress sense; and plus the light green eyes, wild curls and incredible jawline.
"Uh, yeah. And you must be... "
"Harry." he finished my sentence, pulling the chair out from the other side of the table as he slumped his bag down on to the floor below. I was completely gobsmacked as I blinked a few times, trying to assure myself I hadn't been daydreaming.
I watched him gather up the sheets he was holding, then shuffle them together and tap them on the table between us, trying to get them in order. I quickly used this short moment of his unawareness to pull my hair out of its updo, ruffling my fingers through it to try and look presentable. Clearing his throat, Harry looked back up at me, his left mouth end curling up as he raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Where do you wanna start? "
