I'm so sorry for the lack of updates!

They avoided eye contact as they ate breakfast – Nicki picked a croissant apart with her long, elegant fingers; licking the strawberry jam from underneath her manicured nails as she smiled to herself. Tom watched her from the corner of his eye; strangely entertained by the way she ate. He, meanwhile, was devouring a Full English with gusto. Red splatters of both jam and ketchup graced the crisp white tablecloth upon the square table. He had to admit; she was quite possibly the messiest eater he had ever seen – there were crumbs all over her, including several which had somehow made their way from her mouth to her eyebrows.

Her eyes wandered around the room; the light from the chandeliers, which were, stunningly, still intact following a one night stay from the pupils and staff of Waterloo Road, reflected in the bright blue orbs; making them sparkle like perfectly cut gems. Across the breakfast room; Finn and Josh were flicking cornflakes at each other as if the air in London had mysteriously transformed them into seven year olds once more. Nicki caught Tom's eye; and the pair smiled as they looked back to the two teenagers.

On the opposite side of the large, cream painted room; Grantly entered sheepishly; hoping foolishly that his colleagues wouldn't see him and proceed to mock him mercilessly – he was all too aware of the cruel jokes which he would undoubtedly become the subject of.

"Here comes Mr. Ann Summers." Tom murmured; at the precise moment that Nicki was taking a large sip of tea (black; one sugar – bittersweet, just like her) which ended up mostly covering Tom. He looked at her indignantly; as if she'd just torn an expensive suit in two, rather than splattered a cheap t-shirt with a mouthful of tea.

"Are you trying to tell me to wear something else?"

She shrugged lightly; crimson t-shirt falling over her left shoulder as she leant forwards slightly; exposing the smooth skin. He was reminded of last night; the feeling of waking up to her warm body in his arms; her long legs curled into his, dark eyelashes casting a shadow across her face as the light hit her.

She really was beautiful; however little she believed it. Those eyes; enchanting, sapphire-like, deep blue orbs, entrancing him into their fairytale in which she lived so as not to get hurt. She was an enigma wrapped in a riddle; complex to the point of impossibility, stubborn and, frankly, one of the most amazing women he had ever been privileged to meet. Bloody hell, he was getting soppy. He could only imagine what she'd say if she could read his mind.

'It's the air.' He told himself, 'Bloody cockneys.'

"I bow down to your fashion credentials, Dame Vivienne Westwood." He quipped with a smile, awaiting her teasing response,

"Keep your hair on, Alexander McQueen."

"Who?"

She rolled her eyes, smiling as she looked back at him. Their gaze was cut by a stray cornflake flying between them; which was rather a miracle being that Josh and Finn were over totally the opposite side of the room.

"Shall we go and get ready?" she asked, glancing down and back up at him through those impossibly long, luscious, dark lashes. A stray curl slipped over her ear; the dark tendril framing her face, contrasting perfectly with her blue eyes and porcelain skin. She pushed her chair back away from the table and stood up; flexing her shoulders as she waited for him to join her. He watched her as he also got up; observing the way in which her attention seemed to flit around the room; eyes snapping from one point to another almost constantly. He supposed that was something which came from being in the Army – quick responses and a razor-sharp awareness of her surroundings. He smiled to himself as yet another cornflake flew just a few centimetres from her face; and, startled, she widened her eyes in shock at the foreign object; another of which was probably in orbit by now.

Today was going to be a good day. Chaotic, yes – but one hell of a day.

"And if we get a call from anywhere," Nicki shouted, "Be it Harrods or Primark; those responsible will be staying with Mr. Budgen for the rest of the trip."

This announcement was met with groans; as the students currently gathered around their teachers whispered to each other about their plans for the day. It was 9.30am; and the students were stood by Starbucks on Oxford Street in the least offensive way that they could manage.

"Have a good day; and be back here for half four. No exceptions!"

The gaggle split up; and the teachers were left leaning against the wall in a way which wouldn't have looked in the slightest odd had their students been doing it. Nicki had stolen a hoodie from Tom – she'd forgotten to pack for British weather, it appeared.

"Right, we all have each other's numbers; so we'll meet back here at four. I have the emergency phone." Nicki stated as if she were a spy briefing her team on a top secret, high priority mission, as opposed to a plan for spending the day in London with some teenagers. Admittedly, Waterloo Road's students had the ability to quite easily replicate the chaos that a military invasion would cause.

'I don't know why they worried about the Nazis invading,' she mused, 'Waterloo Road pose far more of a threat.'

The staff nodded, and began to go their separate ways. Nicki and Tom remained stood in the same place, as clusters of students, tourists and stressed office workers made their ways down Oxford Street, clutching either food, a map or a mobile phone in their hands.

"So, where are we going then?" she asked, looking at Tom directly with her piercingly bright blue eyes. Rain had begun spitting from the ominous grey clouds above them; drops landing on the grey material of her jeans and darkening them slightly.

"Breakfast, methinks." He answered, checking his watch. Both of them had eaten tonnes at the hotel, but they appeared to share the theory that the stress of taking the students on a trip to London would probably burn off the extra calories. Nicki began to make her way to the doorway of the crowded branch of Starbucks, when Tom grabbed her arm and pulled her in a different direction.

"Nicki, we're in London. We are not going to Starbucks."

"Costa, then?"

He rolled his eyes, dragging her along as if she was a young child and steering her towards a small cafe with just a few people in it, off the main road.

"You're a cultural philistine, you know that?" he asked rhetorically as he led her into the small, 1930s building.

"Shut up and get me some food." She responded with a grin, dropping her handbag on a free armchair and leaning against it, analysing the small room as he stared at her in what he thought to be an inconspicuous manner. She noticed, of course, but said nothing.

As a matter of fact; she didn't mind him observing her like that. It made her feel special; different; and... liked for having those qualities. However, much as she enjoyed the attention, the issue of the happenings in his hotel room that very morning – and, indeed, the night before – still remained as a block in their relationship. She was stubborn enough not to admit her feelings, yet equally scared of both of their emotions. And his reaction to her scars – her raw, emotional, human side – remained to be seen.

What will the day hold for Tom and Nicki? And, indeed, the night? ;)

All will be revealed next chapter. I will remember to update; promise!

For Hannah, and for you, if you've read the entire thing. I love you, and please review! xxx