All Too Well | Herophine

Chapter Six | A Friend

Josephine

The following day I woke up feeling a little dazed. Was it all just a very vivid dream? I mean, it's not entirely impossible because it isn't the first dream I've had of him. Reality hits me when I realise this can't be a dream. After all, for once, the man behind the emails and calls had an identity, something he never had in any dream I ever had of him because he was always just a mystery to me.

As I get out of bed, I run my hand through my hair and take a deep breath. I went to the kitchen and decided to make something to eat before starting to work on the paperwork I didn't want to deal with on Monday. I grabbed three eggs from the fridge, some cherry tomatoes, and two champignon mushrooms. I put oil in the pan, added mushrooms and tomatoes, seasoned them a little with salt and pepper, cut some fresh chives on the cutting board, then moved around the kitchen and put a slice of bread in the toaster. As my tomatoes and mushrooms are cooking, I take another pot, crack in the eggs and put a small cube of butter in it and put it on the stove, and stir it "like a risotto," as Gordon Ramsay said when I first learned this recipe and how to make the best-scrambled eggs I ever had. I take the eggs off the stove and put the pot on the cutting board as I quickly walk to the fridge to take out some creme fraiche and add a tablespoon to my eggs with the fresh chives I chopped earlier—the toaster dings announcing to me that my toast is done. I put the toast on the plate with my tomatoes and mushrooms, then the scrambled eggs on top of the toast. I place the plate on the kitchen island and go to the kettle to boil some water for my tea. At first, I thought living alone would be a little bit difficult living in a new country. But it seems I got the hang of it quickly. I put the boiling water in my tea cup with a tea bag of twinings English breakfast tea and let it brew for a few minutes.

I sit down at the island and snap a photo of my breakfast with my new camera that I got last year from my mom as a gift. I'll send her this picture with many more that I'll take today. I want to explore Oxford Street for some reason and then maybe head to Hyde Park or Regent Park. I'm not sure which one yet. Hyde Park is where all romantic stories happened in the historical romance books, but Regent Park has the Zoo that Harry went to with the Dursleys, so that's the Potterhead in me wishing to go there and talk to a snake. Hopefully, the snake doesn't escape this time. I walk to my closet to find an outfit for the day. Living here in England, I have learned that the weather is almost always gloomy and rain can be a constant, which I don't mind. I pick a pair of jeans and a top, lightly curl my hair, decide to leave it down, and apply light makeup. I just can't believe last night's events. London had a bigger population than Seattle, but of all people, Hero was the last person I thought I'd ever run into, which makes me wonder if he had moved on since we last spoke. The thought upsets me enough to make me anxious, but the alarm on my phone goes off, snapping me out of my thoughts and telling me it's time to head out to catch the bus.

I take in the scenery as I walk to the Brixton underground station and take the tube on the Victoria line to Warren Street Station. England has always had a special place in my heart. When I was about 13 years old, I watched Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone for the first time. Everything from the accents to the architecture and even the history always had me so intrigued, and I never wanted anything more than to be able to live in such a historically rich country. I cross the street and enter the Starbucks as I get out of the underground station. I wait in line for the two girls in front of me to order. I look down at my phone and notice I have one unread message on my phone. I open the app, and I see it's an unknown number. As I open it, my heart flutters. "I can't believe you still haven't changed your number. I'm sorry I had to leave you like that. I'll get Mia sorted and then probably head home. Sweet dreams, Josephine." Hero. He texted me! I quickly save the number on my contacts as "Mr Grumpy", his old nickname he had from me, and I am brought back to reality when the barista clears her throat.