Side Chapter One

"So, you really came from America?" He asks, waiting for a simple nod before continuing, "what was it like?"

"It was just... life. When you really think about it, it's not much different from London - except for the fact I don't know many people," I shrug, before taking a sip of tea and glancing at the shopping bags near my feet, making the mental note I'd have to pay him back someday for this.

"I see," he pauses, glancing from me to his own tea cup.

"Well... what do you do?" I ask, trying to make some sort of conversation.

"I'm a journalist," he seemed to brighten up, "I love it, but I think I'm going to quit soon."

"Why is that?" I ask, as he looks away for a moment, before speaking.

"What did you do? Before you came here, I mean," he asked, as I mentally noted how he avoided.

"I never actually had a job, I guess. I mean, I draw, and sometimes people would pay for my art."

"I see," he says, "are you going to get a job?"

"I was planning on it. Not sure where, but I'll find someplace." Silence greeted us for a few moments, before he spoke once again.

"So... you draw?" He asks, running a hand through his hair.

"Y-Yeah, um... I sometimes draw people, occasionally landscapes if I feel like it."

"Do you do anything else?" His questions made me a little uncomfortable, but I didn't want to say anything. Not many people asked things like this anyhow.

"I used to be into musical theatre, and I write sometimes. That's... it, I guess." I said, frowning slightly at my few hobbies.

"What do you write?"

"Stories, mainly - but I write decent essays and such."

"I see," he says, glancing down at his watch before his eyes widened, "we should leave soon. I've got one more place to show you."

We split the check in the end, before leaving and finding Clive's car nearby. I had to get used to walking around to the opposite side, placing the few bags in the backseat. It was a short drive to a large garden, Clive smiling as he promised this would be a sight. He took me by the hand, guiding me to a large, glass house where there were rows upon rows of the prettiest deep pink camellias I'd ever seen. I felt like I was in a fairy tale, with a sunset in the background that made everything feel so picture-perfect. My mouth hung open slightly in awe at how a sight could be so beautiful, and turned to Clive, who's been standing with a small smirk.

"It's... beautiful." I said, "t-thank you for bringing me here!"

"I thought it'd be a nice conclusion to our little tour. Welcome to London, Cassandra." He crosses his arms, looking out upon the flowers and the orange glow beyond us.

"Have you been here before?"

"A few times - although this is my second time being here during sunset," he replies, looking to his watch, "it's getting late. I'll drive you home, alright?"

"Alright," I say, as I was guided once again back to his car. It was a thirty or so minute drive back to Emmy's apartment, and he continued to walk me to the door, letting me carry my bags (as I mentioned I could carry them myself). I gave my final thanks for being my guide around London, to which he told me to call him sometime. I would have offered him to come in for a few minutes, but I didn't want to bother Emmy with the surprise guest, so I simply fished my key from my pocket and left him with a simple goodbye as I shut the door behind me, dropping my bags by my feet.

Emmy was seated on the couch, a book in her lap with a pretty light green mug in her hands. She seemed much more relaxed than usual; hair pulled up in a messy bun, dressed in a simple yellow sweatshirt and matching pajama shorts The sound of the door closing drew her attention, as she looked up and her face lit up upon seeing me.

"So, how was your date?" She asks, shutting the book and setting it on the coffee table.

"I-It wasn't a date, Emmy," I reply, picking up the bags and walking over, setting them in an armchair, "he was just showing me around London."

"Sure," she says, smirking as she stood up, "I'll just ignore how much you're blushing right now."

"E-Emmy!" I respond, touching my arm cheeks and looking away. She sets a hand on my shoulder to gain my attention, as I look up towards her.

"I'll make dinner tonight if you tell me all about this da-" she pauses for a second, correcting herself, "not-date."

"Fine," I reply.

Emmy walks away into the small kitchen, searching for something simple to cook for tonight. I had absentmindedly picked up the shopping bags, and I took taking them to my room and returning to set the table for the two of us. Just as I step into the kitchen, a knock gains my attention.

"I'll get it," I say, walking to the door and opening it. There was no one there, but a small bouquet of six yellow roses, the tips a pretty reddish color. A white ribbon bound them, with a small note attached to it. I picked up the bouquet, reading the note softly to myself.

'Let's do this again sometime.'

I couldn't help but to smile like a schoolgirl as I re-enter the apartment, and the only possible explanation for the sudden gift in my mind was that Clive sent them. I hold the bouquet up and inhale the sweet floral smell, and let my eyes fall shut as my mind wanders. It was a sweet gesture, I have to admit, that he's send these flowers after just a simple tour of the city.

... Although it didn't exactly help me convince Emmy that this was not a date and that Clive and I are only friends.