Chapter 1

Jemima looked around the nearly empty Starbucks. Her fingers were freezing and she probably looked a right mess, with a red nose and eyes that had been running like crazy because of the wind outside. The only thing that could possibly fix the state of her, was a warm cup of coffee.

"Next!" Jemima heard the girl behind the counter say. She looked around and realized she was standing way too far away, the queue having disappeared in front of her without her noticing. It actually seemed like she was the only costumer left in the whole coffee shop.

"Oh, sorry!" she mumbled, hurrying forward. She ordered what she wanted, while the girl taking the order looked at her like she couldn't care less.

Jemima got her coffee in a paper cup and went to get herself some napkins and on the other side of the room. A guy, who by the look of it, worked there, stood right in front of them, fixing something. For some reason she hated to say that awkward "excuse me" and get in the way of what some stranger was doing. It was a weird thing she had, but it had always been like that for her.

"Sorry, can I just…" she almost whispered as she stood behind the guy. He looked over his shoulder, immediately moved to the side with an "Oh, of course!"

Jemima cast a quick, thankful glance at him and… Shit, he was gorgeous. Long, dark-brown hair, up in a bun at the back of his head, beautiful eyes and one of those cheeky, half-mouth smiles, with one dimple in the cheek. And he was really tall, but compared to her, everyone was.

Jemima grabbed a few too many napkins, quickly, but somehow managed to smash her hand onto the edge of the counter, really hard.

"Oh, fuck!" she let out, before she could stop herself. Charming.

"Ouch! Are you okay?" the guy asked, sounding actually worried. "God, that was not a good one."

"I'm fine, I'm fine", Jemima waved it off and noticed that she was actually not. She looked at the back of her hand and saw that it was completely red, but worse than that, it had a giant splinter in it.

The guy saw it too. "Hey, that's not fine. You've got something in there. Shall I take a look at it?"

"No, no!" Jemima protested, but at the same time, let him gently take her hand and investigate the damage. "Really, it's okay. I can take it out myself, at the table. It's fine. But thank you, anyways".

"Don't be stupid", he said, not realizing he had just called a costumer stupid. "You won't get that out yourself. So sit down over there by the window and I'll go check if we have something to get it out with."

He quickly marched over the room, with what seemed like just three long steps and Jemima went to where he had pointed, put her cup on the table and sat down. God, she really wouldn't be able to get that out of her hand by herself.

The guy returned. With a very sharp knife. Jemima stared, chocked, at it and shook her head.

"No! That's not coming anywhere near my hand", she protested.

"Sorry! I couldn't find anything else. And I think we may have to… you know, cut the skin open a bit. Unless you have one of those tweezers in your bag."

Jemima shook her head and realized he was right. She was just going to have to bite her lip and look the other way, while he operated on her hand. He sat down on the chair next to her and for the first time she saw the little nametag on his t-shirt. Harry.

He leaned forward towards her, put his heavily tattooed arms to rest on his knees and reached out for her hand. She put hers in his and made a little squealing noise, because of the pain. He held it up a little to study the wounded side.

"Yep," he said after a little while. "I'm sorry, but I have to cut the skin a little bit. And I sterilized the knife, so don't worry about that."

Jemima nodded. She knew the alternative would be to go to the hospital and do it, but that would take ages to get to and from there, sit in the waiting room and be quite expensive, for something that would take the nurse half a minute to get out. No, she would not go to hospital for a little wooden splinter in her hand. Instead, she was going to let the Starbucks-guy cut it out with a kitchen knife, in the actual coffee shop. Great.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, okay then. Do it."

He leaned in closer to the hand and she could feel his warm breath on her skin. As soon as he put the knife to where the splinter had gone in, she shouted:

"Wait, wait!" He immediately sat straight up and looked worried. "Talk to me about something else while you do it. I can't just sit here and watch it, in silence."

He laughed a little and put the knife back to the hand. "Okay, so… What's your name?"

"Jemima."

"Jemima," he repeated, like he was trying it out in his head. " That's a good name. Suits you."

"Same", she blurted out. "I mean, your name. Harry." He looked a little confused and she pointed to his nametag. "Good... good name".

She blushed. She was already making a fool out of herself, being awkward.

Harry smiled that half-smile and returned to the skin-cutting on her hand.

"So, how old are you, Jemima? When is your birthday? Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

She laughed a little and in the back of her mind noticed how deep his voice was and how slowly he spoke, like he thought about every word before he said them out loud. She decided she liked that, then asked: "Is this an interview or something?"

"No, you just told me to talk and I'm just making polite conversation, trying to get to know you. Getting a few topics out of the way quickly."

Jemima pushed the "getting to know you" part to the back of her mind as fast as she could. He could have meant nothing by that and if she tried to figure out what he meant now, she would forget to speak and look like a complete idiot. And then it would not matter what he had meant from the beginning, because there would be no way he would want to get to know her.

"Okay, okay," she said. "So, I'm twenty-three. My birthday is on the 19th of June. I have and older sister, Georgina. And well, her husband is like a brother to me too, so it kind of feels like I have both. How about you?"

"I am twenty-two, my birthday is on the 1st of February and I have an older sister. Gemma."

"Wait…" she paused as she tried to count what date is was. "That means today is your birthday!"

Harry laughed. "Spot on. But don't say it too loud, so Amanda over there will hear it. I don't want any fuzz over it or anything."

"I'll take it to my grave", Jemima said, pretending to zip up her mouth, lock it and throw way the key. "Bummer you had to work on your birthday, though"

"Yeah, I guess", he answered, not seeming that bothered. "But it's only my second week here, so I didn't want to ask for the day off. And I'm not planning to do anything, really. Probably just going to hang out with my flat mate and eat take-out."

Jemima wasn't that big on celebrating birthdays herself, so she understood completely. She nodded, even though he couldn't see it, with his eyes fixed on the splinter in her hand.

She was quiet for a minute, watching him work, trying to ignore the pain, before she spoke again. "So it's your second week? What did you do before that?"

"I just moved down here, to London", he said. "The guy I live with, Niall, finally convinced me. I'm staying on a fold-out bed in his living-room, while we look for something bigger, that we can rent together."

"How did you know him before? Is he from the same place as you or…?" Jemima ask.

"No, no. He's Irish. Very important, that. I'm from this tiny little village in Cheshire. Ever heard of Holmes Chapel?"

Jemima shook her head. Geography wasn't her strong suit and growing up in London, small villages in the countryside wasn't really something that stuck to her mind.

"I met Niall, about…" Harry counted in his head. "About four years ago, when I went to Dublin. Niall isn't from there either, so it's a total, very lucky coincided that we met. We clicked immediately and have kept in touch since then. And then he moved to London about a year ago and have pestered me to move down since then. He met some guys, started a band with them and apparently needed a singer and yeah… I finally gave up."

"Cool", Jemima said, and suddenly felt how not cool enough she was compared to this guy. She dreaded him asking her what she did for a living, even though she loved it. And sure enough, he asked:

"What do you do?" and actually managed to sound genuinely interested.

"I work in a bookshop in Notting Hill. And then I babysit two little kids a few times a week", Jemima said. It wasn't that she was ashamed of what she did, she had long ago accepted that she didn't really have the same interests as other people her age. It was just that when someone, especially a really good-looking guy who was apparently in a band and had tattoos all over his arms, asked her, she immediately turned into the extremely shy teenager who preferred books over people, that she had once been.

Jemima couldn't really tell if he said that just to be polite or if he actually meant it. However, she didn't have much time to wonder, because Harry suddenly made a triumphant noise and gently pulled out the splinter from her hand. He held it out to her.

"Look at this guy. He's huge Do you want to keep him, as a memorabilia of the day we became friends?"

Jemima laughed. "Yuck! No! And are we suddenly friends now?"

"Yeah, I think we are", Harry said, a little too confident. "I mean, this is one of the longest conversations I've had with anyone since moving here. Londoners are not easy people to get to know. And since I have a maximum one friend and three acquaintances here, I feel like you can show me some sympathy and at least give me a chance to be your friend. I did, after all, operate this out of your hand." He waved the splinter in front of her face again.

She pretended to sigh and roll her eyes, while she let him put a plaster on the cut. "Okay, then. Just because I feel sorry for you."

In that moment, the door to the coffee shop opened and about five teenage girls came in, talking loudly.

Harry looked over his shoulder at them, and quickly said:

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Jemima. I have to go help the costumers. Hopefully none of them will get hurt." He winked at her and smiled that half-smile again, as he stood up.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too", Jemima stuttered, suddenly realizing where she actually was. "And thank you for… this." She waved her hurt hand in the air.

He just smiled at her again and hurried behind the counter. Jemima felt a little sting in the pit of her stomach, as she picked up her cup of coffee and her bag. He had said they were new friends and had actually sounded sincere. But she knew she often had trouble reading into what people said and understand if they really meant it or not. Of course, she thought now, it had only been a joke. He didn't really want to be friends with her.

At the door, she turned around a little, to see if he notice her leave, so she could give him a little wave goodbye. But he was fully concentrated on what the girls at the counter wanted to order, so she went out the door, a bit disappointed, thinking this must have been her strangest and at the same time nicest Starbucks experience she'd ever had.