Love At First Lie | Herophine Fic

Master The Art

HERO

Taking my seat at the small table towards the back of The Northall, I exhale heavily and feel my right leg begin to tap nervously against the floor. I'm here before her. Before Jo. Perhaps well before her. I have no idea. When I met Charlie in the lobby earlier, she said she'd told me an earlier arrival time than Jo. Just to ensure one of us was definitely here before the other so we could meet properly. Whatever that's supposed to mean.

I barely slept last night, purely with anticipation about coming here and entering the show the day after tomorrow. And of course, meeting Jo hasn't left my mind. I want to meet her. To put a face to the name and profile I've read over multiple times now. As I've said, there are thousands of blond-haired, blue-eyed girls in London but something about Josephine - despite not knowing her - has intrigued me. Perhaps it's because she's going to be my fake girlfriend in a chase for a sweet amount of money, who knows?

I don't know how long I sit here. I've not got my phone with me having handed it to Charlie to adhere to the show's policy. I couldn't even drop Felix or Morgan a text to tell them I'd arrived. Granted it's only a hop, skip and a jump away from Marylebone but everything is official now and done by the book in preparation for the show. Not only does my leg bounce against the floor, but my fingers are also now tapping rhythmically against the table too. I'll be fine once I meet her, I'm sure.

Eventually, I see the maître d' in the corner of my eye approaching from behind, stopping in the middle of our table. Just as he does, purely out of good manners, I stand, rubbing my hands against my thighs before I turn my head and meet her gaze... She's... wow. The blonde hair and blue eyes in my mind or on the profile I've read countless amounts of times haven't done them justice.

"You must be Josephine," I say, doing my best to sound confident, calm and keep an even tone. A soft smile breaks out on her full, plump lips before she replies.

"And you must be Hero," turning around completely, careful not to knock over my chair - because I'd look ridiculous if that happened - I nod yes, returning her smile. Feigning assurance, I extend my arm and hand out to her, thinking it's the only fitting thing to do considering this is the first time I'm meeting her. Noting her cautiousness, she places her hand in mine, letting me lead our handshake greeting. Holding her small hand in mine, I notice an inviting warmth and a collection of... sparks. Coursing right through me to her and back again. But I do my best to again fake away the feelings. This is all about faking it, remember?

After our spark-filled handshake, the maître 'd pulls out Josephine's chair, allowing her to sit down opposite me before placing our menus in front of us. My eyes don't move from her. I'm so... intrigued. She's not what I expected at all. Her soft features and inviting, deep blues have captivated me.

"Could we have some water for the table, please?" I ask, just before the maître d' leaves. He simply nods yes before whisking himself away. I'm finding myself completely parched for some reason. My mouth is dry but my eyes are fixed. I'm having to make a conscious effort to not let my mouth hang agape. I don't want to scare her off or think I'm a freak. She looks effortlessly put together. Similarly to me, she's kept her outfit casual despite the fancy restaurant we're dining in. Her hair falls in soft curls, framing her heart-shaped face perfectly. Charlie said we'd be a good match...

Silence falls between us at the table, even while our water is being poured into the empty glasses. The last thing I want is for this to be awkward for us. We're supposed to be together.

"So... You arrived here earlier this morning?" Smiling softly, I begin to nod yes. Thankful she's broken the deafening silence.

"I did, yeah. Charlie told me you'd be a bit later. Do you mind me asking where you're from?" Even with the few things she's said, I know she's not from the UK. She has an accent. I'm pretty sure I know where she's from, but I don't want to assume.