it was yet another late afternoon in the cafe. fleur was sat beside me, sipping a coffee and sketching on a little notebook.
i was sinking into a peach scone and writing.
"can i read?"
i nodded and handed my book over to fleur.
she took it with a giddy smile and started to read each line thoroughly. i watched her.
she's gorgeous. her eyes scanning across the page and reflecting a little sparkle of life and excitement. the corners of her pretty lips turned upwards. so gorgeous.
you know what else is gorgeous? these peach scones. ever since fleur told me that her grandmother makes the scones, i've been dying to meet her. they are probably the second most important reason i come here.
fleur finished the lyrics and looked up at me with a slightly dazed glow in her facial expression.
"this is fucking incredible"
"thanks"
"really! you should sign with a record thingy and start producing music"
"what if i'm a shitty singer"
"you're not"
"you wouldn't know"
"i guess you'll just have to sing for me then"
i looked up at her. a playful yet serious smile spread over her round cheeks.
so i started to sing.
not my own song, but another song from an artist i know she likes.
it's weird. singing in front of her made me feel rather insecure and worried about my voice and all the little cracks. but her amazed expression just made me keep going.
id sing for hours if it was to her.
