"Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in."

- hoax by Taylor Swift


Finley cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder and out the taxi's back window. "Is there any way you can go faster?"

"Sorry," said the driver. "I'm going as fast as I'm allowed."

Finley nodded. "Of course," she said. "I'm sorry."

Her heart thumped so hard against her ribcage that she was convinced it would break into a million pieces. She watched the raindrops as they travelled across the glass, hoping it would somehow soothe her nerves. It didn't work. She still chewed her lip, and her leg still bounced anxiously as she clutched the strap of her rucksack until her knuckles turned white.

When the cab pulled up outside the bus terminal, she thanked the driver for the ride, paid for the fare and sprinted inside, keeping her head down. Finley paid for her ticket and went to the right terminal to wait for the bus to arrive. She made sure her cap was secure and covered most of her face. Sitting on a bench, her back turned to the nearest camera, Finley's leg bounced again, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She wouldn't be able to breathe properly until she was as far away from this place as she could possibly be.

Any moment now, he would walk into their flat and find her gone. Her phone sat on the kitchen counter, most of her clothes still in their dresser, all the pictures of her family still safely in their frames, and no money missing. He would find every trace of her still there, but she would be gone.

For the first time since they met, he would be alone.

But so would Finley.

The bus pulled up, and with one last glance over her shoulder, she took the first step into her new life leaving behind the only home she'd ever known.

She found her seat, and as the bus left the terminal, Finley watched the raindrops on the window falling. It was a comfort to know they wouldn't remember her. They created intricate patterns and then disappeared into the crowd, with nothing left to show for their existence. Sometimes Finley felt a lot like those raindrops, bound to leave the world just as unremarkable as she entered it. It was a less depressing concept than it sounded. For her, that would be enough.

It was for the best that she disappeared.

Despite being on her way to what seemed like safety, there were too many unknowns for her to feel even remotely relaxed. What would she do when she got to London? She needed a job, a place to live, a way to make a living on her own. The only thing he'd ever praised her for was her ability to make a drink, and even that, he'd criticized more than half the time. She needed someone willing to hire her and only pay her in cash.

Some would argue that it was reckless to leave, but Finley knew that if she didn't, it would only be a matter of time before she was dead.

The bus trickled down the winding country roads, made significant headway on the motorways, stopped for petrol, and the rain kept pouring down while Finley didn't sleep a wink. Her body was too tense, and at home, even the nighttime wasn't safe. She always had to be on guard, and knowing that he'd realized she was gone by now, made her all the more anxious.

Nothing could drown out the sound of her heart beating a million miles an hour as she stared out the window and the cold nothingness of the English landscape sliding past her. It was too dark for her to see anything, really. On the other side of the aisle, a lady slept soundly with her head against the headrest and mouth wide open, and Finley found herself wishing for that kind of peace of mind. The peace to know she could close her eyes and finally sleep.

She didn't, of course.

The bus rolled into London's Victoria Station in the early hours of the morning, but London was already buzzing with life. As she got off the bus with her sole backpack, she was in awe of the sights around her. It might just be another city to most, but it was overwhelming to Finley, who had never gone more than a few miles outside her hometown.

Finley entered what felt like the thousandth pub that day. Her legs were heavy like lead, and her entire body called out for just an ounce of rest and a good meal.

She had spoken to so many pub owners about potential positions that she could barely think straight anymore. She had even been offered a few places, but they withdrew the offer as soon as she mentioned wanting to be paid in cash. She didn't blame them, seeing as it put them in a legal grey area, but she'd hoped some of them would be in a forgiving mood. None were, and almost ten hours after arriving in London, she was still out of a job.

Finley slid into one of the bar stools and was approached almost instantly by an elderly woman who appeared to be in her seventies. "Alright, love? What can I get you?" She asked with a friendly smile on her weathered face.

Finley hesitated. "Fish and chips, some water, and a job, please."

It was forward, and she knew it.

To her credit, the older woman appeared unfazed. "Job hunting, are we?" She asked and gathered a pint glass from below the counter.

Finley nodded. "Been at it all day," she muttered and inwardly flinched at how defeated she sounded. She could hear his booming voice telling her she was worthless and pathetic and that she could never do anything right, so why would anyone hire her.

Massaging her temples in a half-hearted attempt to get his voice out of her head, Finley watched the woman open the tab and let the golden liquid run into the glass.

She placed the glass in front of Finley. "On the house," the woman said.

Finley shook her head. "I can't accept this," she argued.

The look she received back from the woman let Finley know it wasn't up for discussion, but the look didn't fill her with the usual dread. So instead, she smiled and dragged the pint glass closer. "Thank you."

The woman offered her a slight, uneven grin. "I'll get you that fish and chips."

She disappeared into the back before Finley could offer another thank you.

Finley slipped her coat off. She placed it on the empty barstool next to her and took in the pub's decor. Dark wood panelling ran around every window and doorway. The bar was also made in a dark wood, and the windows donned burgundy red curtains, and pinned over the top of the alcohol bottles behind the bar were two red and blue scarves with the words AFC RICHMOND in yellow on them. Finley assumed it was the local football club.

It was a quiet night at the pub. A few patrons scattered around in the various seats, including a trio lost in conversation at the table underneath the TV, which played some football match that clearly wasn't worth paying attention to. Finley gathered that the only matches that mattered were the ones the home team played.

The older woman came back holding a plate with the heavenly smell of fresh fish and chips. Her mouth watered, and her stomach growled for the first time all day at the prospect of getting some actual food.

"There you go," the woman said and placed the plate in front of her along with a glass of water to go with her pint. "What's your name, love?"

She hesitated. "Finley." Speaking the name felt foreign on her tongue despite saying it a thousand and one times throughout the day to various pub owners. She hardly recognized the sound anymore.

"Oi, Mae," a patron yelled further down the bar. "Can we get three lagers, please?" Finley realized it was one of the men who sat at the table under the TV, and from their familiarity with the woman, Finley assumed they were regulars. She also learned that the woman's name was Mae.

As Finley ate, the exhaustion settled in her bones, making every movement feel slow and heavy. It was the first day in ten years that his presence hadn't loomed over her, filling every moment of silence with the terror of what could happen every time she opened her mouth or looked at him wrong.

It was a strange sort of feeling to be out of his reach.

As she finished up her meal, the older woman approached once again with a sort of wondering look in her eyes that Finley couldn't pinpoint exactly.

"Where are you staying?" The woman asked as she dried off some glasses.

Once again, Finley found herself hesitating. "I was going to find a hostel, stay for the night," she said, taking a long sip of her pint. "Continue my job hunt tomorrow."

Mae's brows furrowed, and she looked around as if considering what Finley had just told her. She shook her head, her mind clearly made up.

"I have a spare bedroom upstairs," she said, maintaining eye contact with Finley. "You can stay there a couple of nights until I talk to my goddaughter. I think they're looking for a housemate, so they can help you out."

Finley opened her mouth to protest, but the elderly woman held up a finger to silence her.

"I'll show you the ropes down here tomorrow. Does that sound alright?"

Finley was completely taken aback, not entirely sure she actually believed what the woman was saying. Kindness was not something she had been familiar with for a long time, and the dread of an unforeseen catch lingered in the back of her mind. She wanted to run headfirst into this opportunity, this selflessness from a stranger, but she didn't trust it. Something had to be off.

"I can't…" Finley began, trailing off. "I can't accept that. It's too much."

"Nonsense," Mae argued, a stern but resolute expression on her aged face. "You need a place to sleep, and I'm not letting you go to a hostel, okay? You can try a couple of shifts here, see how you fit in, and if it doesn't work out, I'll help you find something else. Okay?"

Her tone didn't leave much room for interpretation, so Finley didn't argue. She did have one thing she had to mention before they moved forward. "I can only be paid in cash, though."

Mae shrugged, seemingly unbothered by that fact. "We'll sort something out," she said and walked down the line of the bar, so a couple who had entered while they were chatting could order.

That was how Finley, just a few short weeks later, found herself with four new housemates, including Mae's goddaughter, pouring pints for patrons at the Crown and Anchor and knowing more about football than she ever thought she would.

After her first shift, Mae had given her a crash course on the sport, and while Finley still didn't understand the offside rule or any of the other rules, she knew enough to know whether the team played well or not. She could also name a couple of the players from when they did their post-match interviews.

The talk of her current shift was the death of the AFC Richmond team mascot, a cute greyhound named Earl, and it seemed a miracle that no one was bothering the team's coaches about it. They were sitting at a table in the corner, eating their dinner, and usually, the regulars weren't shy about letting them know just what they thought of the pair. Tonight was quiet, though.

Finley had seen them in the pub before but never had the opportunity to serve them. Usually, Mae took care of them.

"Finley," the older woman said, drawing her attention back to the bar. "Be a darling and give these pints to the coaches; it looks like they need them."

Finley nodded and grabbed the pints. On her way there, despite it only being a handful of steps, she debated on whether or not to introduce herself to the two men. They were regulars, and chances were she'd have to serve them more than just this once.

She chickened out at the last second. "Mae asked me to bring you these," she said in greeting and placed them on their table.

"Tell Mae, we say thank you. Are you a new hire?"

Finley nodded. "Been here for a few weeks," she muttered and took their empty glasses. She started to turn but was stopped by the man with the moustache.

"Well, I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself sooner," he said with a bright and genuine smile. "I'm Ted, and this here is Coach Beard." She knew he was American, of course, but it was unsettling just how clearly it came through in the way he spoke and how he carried himself, even when sitting.

Finley offered a faint hello and turned to leave again, not wanting to bother the men while they ate, but Ted was persistent. "Well, what's your name?"

"Finley," she answered with a curt nod, hoping he would actually let her leave this time so she could go back to work.

"Nice to meet ya, Finley," he offered. "You might be seeing a whole lot of us. We're kind of staples in this fine place."

He was so open that she allowed herself to give him a non-customer service smile. "Likewise, Ted. Coach Beard," she said and found that she meant it. "Um, I'm sorry about Earl, by the way. How's the player holding up?" He was so kind to her that she wanted to repay the favour, no matter how uncomfortable she was with small talk.

"Dani?" Ted asked. "I think he'll be just fine."

"That's good," she said. "Enjoy your evening."

"Thank you, Finley," the coaches said in unison, and she wandered back to the bar where other patrons were waiting to be served.

And for the first time in almost ten years, Finley felt like she could breathe.


Author's Note: I've been so nervous and excited to post this fic. Finley is my broken darling, who just needs some love. This is only the prologue, so it's an introductory chapter, so we know Finley a bit better. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Be sure to leave a review and let me know what you think. Follow me on tumblr at itscapokaybye.