Sorry this is short, but I promise frequent updates. FREQUENT! Possibly everyday. I am really excited for this story so please read and review. Reviewing lets me know that there are readers enjoying the story. I accept con-crit and appreciate every single review. Thank you to Holly360 and That girl16 for their reviews. Anyway, here you go!

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The weeks had seemed to pass quickly. Quicker than I had hoped they would, simply because the notion of returning home was terrifyingly unnerving.

"Staring off into space, again? That's the seventh time in the past 20 minutes," Gabe smirked, "I'm so sorry to bore you."

I sighed lightly. I returned to stirring the steaming cup of tea in front of me, watching the ripples of light steam swirl; dancing and disappearing.

"Gabe…come on, you know that's not it at all," I looked at him earnestly, and he smiled back, nodding his head.

"I'm just freaking out, I mean how in the hell do I go back to a place where he…," I trailed off, my gaze caught by two teenagers. Their arms where linked together and she was gazing at him like she'd never need another person to complete her. She moved to the wooden table two down from ours and sat down, while he ordered.

Her pale skin shimmered under the warm lights of the coffee house and she bit her ruby red bottom lip absentmindedly. She was watching the back his dark blue Ralph Lauren hoodie and the way his dark hair swayed as he cocked his head, flirting with the barista behind the counter.

I looked back at her only to find an expression I had been accustomed to wearing in my own teenage years. Her big gray eyes were glossy, tears threatening to spill over. Yet, the instant he turned back around she blinked the salty droplets away and grinned at him. Stiffly. Painfully.

It was difficult watching her and clearly understanding every emotion that splashed across her face. Like looking in a mirror, the pain she felt was all too clear and all too real. I had been in those shoes once; gratefully getting out of London was like changing into flats from staggeringly high heels.

Turning around, he strutted towards the table with a relaxed, confident swagger, one reeking of victory. Placing the frappachino in front of her, he sighed contentedly.

"Look who got the barista's number," he chuckled lightly. Lowering her head and sipping the straw, she nodded dully. She looked away, staring out the window and into the dark, indigo night.

"Look who got her heart broken," I muttered bitterly to Gabe.

That was a feeling all too familiar.