The Circle

3 | The Flower Market

I leave the school building straight after the final bell and head towards my car, not bothering to wait for Alec as he told me that he would find his own ride later. Might as well take the free time and have a better look around town before going home.

I manage to drive out of the school parking lot fairly quickly despite the steady flow of cars leaving and head towards the little commercial center which I passed by earlier. Indie music pours out of the new car speakers from a local radio station as the golden leaves pass by. The station has good music, I'll admit -- just my taste. The heater comes in handy when a wave of cold makes me shiver. Carlisle is definitely cooler than London; the September air feels crisp whipping against my face.

A nice warm drink is necessary before looking around. I spot a cute coffee shop called The Flower market right on the main avenue and I pull over. Perfect.

I immediately like the place, even before entering the tiny building. The cafe has a boho look to it and looks comfortable and inviting from the outside. The bitter cold hits me as soon as I step food outside and shivers errupt over my skin. I was never one for cold temperatures.

As I open the door, a tiny bell rings over me and my eyes skim over the coffee shop. There's a wall of colourful flowers which occupies the left side of the cafe, with every type of plant imaginable for sale. The green wall is beautiful; I've never seen anything like it before and the blooms freshen the coffee shop, the scent of flowers intertwining with freshly roasted coffee beans.

The coffee shop is pretty crowded for the middle of the week. This is probably a popular place in town, and I can see why. I walk towards the cashier and order a large hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin that looks absolutely scrumptious. The old lady working the register smiles at me and hands my order a few minutes later, her eyes full of kindness. Her nametag reads Iris. I

Once my order is ready I sit down at a table in the corner and grab my book from my bag. This is one of my favorite things in the world, to sit in a cafe and read or people-watch. In London people-watching was absolutely thrilling, everyone had their own stories, looks, people were unique and unafraid to show it. I could never got bored in the city but Carslile, on the other hand, seemed far less interesting.

My eyes land on a couple sitting on a nearby table, both of them on their early twenties and smiling sweetly at each other. They must be in love. I hope they're happy, whoever they are. i hope it lasts.

Iris must be a wonderful grandmother; she looks out for all the customers in the shop like a mother-hen, tending to the tables with smiles on her face. She tinkles wherever she goes, colorful fabrics trailing behind her figure.

I grab the mug of hot chocolate and go back to my book, trying to focus on the story, but my mind doesn't want to settle down. The skies look spotless, and late-afteroon sunrays cast lazy shadows on the pavement outisde. Passersby walk by the cafe, some of them daring to come in for pastries and coffee.

I I spot a familiar blonde boy through the windows, standing by the sidewalk. Nicolas enters the café with a group friends, and all of them are clad in Carlisle High jerseys. His eyes meet my own and they spark with recognition. Nicolas says something to one of his friends and heads my way. He walks with ease through the tables, patting some people on the back and smiling at others on his way over. It seems that Nicolas is well-known and well-liked in town. He rakes his hand through his messy blonde hair, and i notice for the first time that he has golden stubble on his jawline, making him seem older than he actually is. And it's pretty damn sexy too.