Home (a Drew Chadwick fan fic)

Chapter One

Belle's POV

“Belle” the sound of my own name being called out across the coffee shop got my attention. I sprung up out of the comfy arm chair I was occupying and made my way to the counter to collect my order. I thanked the barista for my latte and headed back to my chair by the window. “Belle is it?” a deep voice asked as a tshirt covered chest appeared in front of me. Even covered in fabric I could tell this person worked out, the tight fitting tee showed off his muscles. I looked up to see the face, the owner of said defined chest, not able to make eye contact because he was scanning my body. He returned his eyes to mine, and smiled appreciatively, “That’s a pretty name”. I groaned inwardly, why had I given my real name, “Thanks” I replied, trying to move past him to get back to my seat and end this awkward situation. “I saw you here yesterday didn’t I?” he asked, moving to stand in front of me again and cutting off my escape route. I nodded, “I’m here most days” I said looking down, uncomfortable with the attention. “Lucky me then, I’ll get to see you most days” I cringed at his forwardness, I didn’t have a response for that. I peeked up at him, what did this guy want, he seemed amused at my blushing. “Maybe tomorrow I can buy you a coffee” he suggested, placing his hand on my arm, I flinched and it was more noticeable than I intended. “Ummmm, I don’t think so” I said politely, “But thanks for the offer” I added. I wasn’t really sure why he was talking to me, he couldn’t be hitting on me, he must have been 30 and I was only 18. Plus he was quite attractive, he clearly took good care of himself and I was, well, me.

He didn’t seem to notice my reaction, or he didn’t care, “See you tomorrow cutie” he winked at me before sauntering out of the coffee shop. It was an uncomfortable moment, the type of moments I tried to avoid at all costs and I was grateful he had left. I scurried back to my chair and slumped into it, putting my headphones out of my back pack and letting music fill my ears. I really didn’t want to find a new coffee shop, this was the first one I had tried since I got to California that had good coffee, but I did not want to run into too-tight-tshirt-man again. I had only been here for a couple of weeks but I was noticing it was very different to New York. I had lived there for 6 months when I turned 18, and in that time I think I spoke to about 5 people. Basically the lady I rented a room from, the man at the grocery store, my boss and 2 co-workers. Everyone there was too busy living their own lives, rushing around in the hectic city to notice anyone else. That was the main reason I had moved there, it was a toss up between Los Angeles and New York, but the idea of being one of the millions crowded on the tiny island won in the end. Eventually the cold weather and overcrowding had worn me down, I felt claustrophobic so decided to give LA a chance. So far I much preferred the open spaces, the warmer weather, the beach, basically everything except the people. Random strangers never tried to talk to me in New York but it was a regular occurrence here in the Los Angeles area. I put it down to people in California just being friendlier, but friendliness wasn’t really something I was used to so it made me uncomfortable.

I had moved around a lot as a kid, the unfortunate consequences of living in foster care and being passed around from family to family. It wasn’t great but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been I suppose. As soon as I turned 18 and got access to the money my parents had left me after they died I had moved to New York. And now I was here endeavouring to make a fresh start and get on with my life. I yanked my lap top out of my bag, I needed to find a job and an apartment. I was currently renting a short term holiday house in Santa Monica but that was only for a month and I had already been there 2 weeks. I scanned the job sites, putting forward applications for everything from office work to retail to telemarketing, I wasn’t fussy. Finding an apartment was harder, I had enough money to buy a small place but I was reluctant to commit in case I decided to move again. I didn’t like the idea of being tied down, but part of me was desperate to finally call one place home. I perused the for sale and for rent ads for about an hour before I gave up and slammed my lap top shut. It was times like this where I wished I had someone in my life, a parent or relative, who could give me advice. But my parents were only children, so I had no aunts or uncles and my grandparents had died when I was a baby. I hated dwelling on this, it wasn’t something I could change and I had done just fine so far without anyone.

I stood up from my chair and slung my back pack over my shoulder, heading out into the street. As I walked along the beach it was hard not to compare myself to all the gorgeous girls that paraded past. It was an endless stream of leggy blondes, with tans and big bright eyes and perfect white smiles. In comparison I was plain, although this fact wasn’t new to me, I had always been plain. Straight brown hair, brown eyes, nothing note worthy as far as appearance goes, just 5 and a half feet of boring. It didn’t bother me, I liked slipping by unnoticed, it came in handy when you were the new kid at a different school every year or two. I was startled by my phone ringing in my pocket, it never rang, no one had the number. “Hello” I answered the phone warily, “Hello, is this Belle?” a chirpy female voice asked. “Yes” I replied hesitantly, and the voice on the other end explained they were the realtor who I had contacted when I first got here. I had figured it wouldn’t hurt to have some help finding a place to live, “I’m free any day next week” I explained when she asked about my availability. “How about I show you a few places next Thursday then?” I agreed to the offer, and made arrangements to meet at her office. I was disappointed she couldn’t show me anything sooner but it was a start.

The next day when I entered the coffee shop I pulled up the hood on my sweater, probably an overreaction on my part. I made my way to the counter and ordered my latte, “What’s the name for the order?” the girl at the counter asked me. I stuck with my decision to use a fake name, “Wesley” I responded, thanking the movie Blade for the inspiration, it was on TV last night. The girl looked confused but entered it into the register and took my cash. I dumped my back pack by the chair near the window and pulled down the hood on my Harvard sweat shirt. Well my mum’s Harvard sweatshirt, she had gone there and from what I can remember her saying about it she loved it. I couldn’t remember much about my parents and the more time that passed, the less I remembered. “Wesley…..Wesley” I hear the name being shouted out by the barista and it takes me a second to register that’s actually me. I dash to the counter, “Yea, that’s me” I tell him and ignore his confused stare. Back at the window I slink into the arm chair, pull my iPod from my back pack and put in my earphones. I am content to just sip my coffee, look out the window and watch all the people go past. I love watching the world go by, but am distracted by a guy across the coffee shop glancing over at me. He is cute, with blondish hair and I can only assume he has mistaken me for someone else or is looking at someone behind me. He keeps looking over so when he turns his back to look at his friend’s laptop I slip out of the coffee shop, avoiding any potential awkwardness.