finding courage

Chapter Two

Dear reader,

I haven't told you before but this is actually my first try again on writing a story in many years. It's my absolute first time in writing in English which is sort of exciting and frustrating at the same time because I never quite know if it's alright. (In case you found another story on my profile - yes, that is my first try as well. ;-) Let's just call this Harry-story and that James-story together my first try.)

Alright, in case you think this story is something you'd like to continue reading it would be awfully nice of you to leave a comment. You can also mention ideas what to do different - language/grammar wise as well as story wise.

Thank you & I hope you have fun reading this.  :-)

______________________________________________________________

Chapter Two

A cloud of scents such as alcohol, sweat, and smoke hits me when I walk into the pub. It is loud and full of people. You could say a normal Thursday night in London. "Oi! Richards!" I can hear a male voice scream through the room. Instantly I recognise that voice as Calvin a.k.a. the class clown in my first year of Afghan. Ever since then I haven't got rid of him – at least when he's in town. He's a good one though.

"C! What are you doing here!? Shouldn't you be somewhere in the South?" I shout at him as I get close to the group and we hug. "Nah, some sh*thead had me shot in the angle."

I don't even know what that means. C always says things nobody else would say but usually in context it makes sense. It's just him. Also he likes to swear – army-style.

The way he holds up his left arm in a sling and points to his left shoulder I reckon he got shot in just that shoulder. It's ridiculous how proud he is, it's not even his first one.

"You got shot!?"

"Yes, that's what I just said."

"Uh-uh." A smirk on my face.

C's accent is thick. In the beginning when we first met I had to concentrate so hard to even understand him at normal pace but after a few months I realised I didn't need to understand everything he said.

"Oi, Richards, stop talking to that wanker and give me a hug."

I look to my left and see Stephan a.k.a. Mr. McHottie. He's not really my type but he's a cliché of a brighton beach boy. He's three years older than I am and is still in the army. It keeps him sane and fit, he says. I suppose it's also his first love. "McHottie, good to see you, mate!"

"Dito."

We hug each other and I eventually give Idris who's a friend from Phoebes office, Joe who's hanging out with us every now and then, and Phoebe a hug.

"Where have you been? It's been an hour since I called you." She says. The redhead takes a sip of her beer that probably isn't her first one, neither her second.

"Yes, sorry about that. Traffic was crazy. Also my brother has called and I can't just hang up if he's finally got the time to exchange a few words." I apologise, looking to Phoebe and then say "He's well, by the way. Still single and all that. Might be in town in a few weeks."

She's never told me that but I know my best friend has a bit of a crush on my beloved brother. She basically can get every guy she wants but he's her soft spot. I'm still guessing that he's the reason she's still single and doesn't actually go out with anyone.

I can see her blush a bit, then tries to ignore it by asking me "What do you want to drink?"

On the inside I just laugh, on the outside I stay as cool as possible and answer "Bloody mary."