☆
[y/n]

_

"LOUIS, YOU'RE STEPPING ON MY FOOT."

Well, no, he wasn't stepping on my foot, his bicycle was. The ratchety thing with barely any air in the tires was pressing down onto my toes as the bus drove down the road a few blocks away from my destination.

I wish I could say the majority of the journey was romantic, with him sweeping me off my feet with his flirtatious remarks, anecdotes, and overall charm, but that would be a lie. He stood in the aisle with his bike, eyes trained onto the window awkwardly.

Well, until his bicycle rolled onto my foot.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," he said, eyes widening when he noticed, "are you okay?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I can buy you some ice, if you want."

I froze.

Not because he offered ice, but because that sentence was oddly familiar. He asked me that the first time I shifted. I vividly remembered rushing off a train, having him follow after me, and him asking me that very same question. It was like getting slammed by a truckload of déjà vu.

I panicked.

"Louis, we're on a bus," I said, "where would you get ice?"

He smiled, pushing his bike to rest against the wall of the coach, and swinging off his satchel in one swift tug. He dug through it, pulling out a small, white pack. I widened my eyes. He held it out to me. I was simultaneously confused, impressed, shocked, and in awe all at the same time.

"I bring ice packs in my bag for emergencies," he grinned, tilting his head to the right cutely, "sometimes skating can leave a bruise."

Is it possible to find someone any more adorable?

I took the pack from his hands, giving him a good smile in return. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to keep it on my foot, so I slid a hairband off my wrist and held the ice pack over the bridge of my shoe as I flicked it on. I nearly lost my balance on the bus as I did so, but I managed not to fall.

Physically.

I managed not to fall physically.

Emotionally, I already did that. I've been falling for Louis Partridge since September, and I didn't see it stopping anytime soon.

"Smart," he remarked, staring down at my ice-pack-shoe-hairband contraption I had made, "I would have just stuffed it down my sock."

I laughed. "That works too."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the bus came to a pulling stop, sending us leaning towards the right and back again. His bike nearly fell off the wall, but he caught it with his left hand—sometimes I forgot he was left-handed.

"Here we are," he said, jutting his chin out towards the door of the coach, "Abbots Lane."

Nodding my head, I made my way to the front, exiting the bus with an icepack tied to my foot. #newstyle? Louis followed after me, his bicycle nearly whacking someone in the leg as he stumbled off the bus. He mumbled a few sorrys, and managed to make it out without a possible lawsuit.

"Queen's Bouquet," I said to him, pointing at the shop behind me, "best flowers in all of London."

Louis shrugged his shoulders. "I hate to disagree, but I don't think that's true."

"And why not?"

"I'm sure there's a better flower shop around," he said, digging through his satchel for a bike lock, "and besides, what makes you qualified to make such an important statement?"

I crossed my arms against my chest. "You're speaking to a future botanist, Mr. Partridge."

He hesitated, staring at me with a glint in his eyes.

"You know what?" He finally said, "you remind me of someone."

I squinted my eyes. "Who?"

"Tewksbury."

A bird squawked somewhere on the pavement.

In the brief silence that followed his statement, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, and I looked away bashfully the second the thought clicked. That was probably the highest compliment I'd ever received.

"No, you're Tewksbury," I mumbled sheepishly, "don't be silly."

He winked. "I think you've stolen that title from me."

A shiver went up my spine. I never scripted him to be anything other than who he really was, and this newfound confidence was a huge difference from the shy persona he had when we first met. I had so many questions. Was he comfortable around me now? Was he like this in real life? Adorable, witty, and inclined to be so charming?

"So, what are we waiting for?" He beamed, snapping me out of my thoughts, "show me this so-called 'best flower shop in London', Tewks."

He called me Tewks.

He called me Tewks.

I might as well just die in this reality, because now I can die happy.

Giving him a smug grin, I gestured for him to follow me towards my usual shop, marching proudly with my new Louis-proclaimed nickname. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder, but then replaced with a new one. The sadness was gone, but the anxiety remained. I didn't want to mess up around him.

I hadn't scripted myself any differently, and even though my whole mission was to see if he'd love me as I am, it was nerve wracking.

Holding the door open, I let Louis push his bicycle inside the shop, finding an empty spot to lean it against. It felt strange bringing him to a place I called my second home, because it felt entirely personal. My head was spinning. It always is.

"Here, follow me," I said, waving my hand towards the rose aisle, "I'll show you around."

Louis shuffled after me.

I didn't expect him to be interested in things like flower bouquets, gardening tools, and rare breeds grown in-shop, but surprisingly he never once looked away from the conversation. Never once touched his phone. Never once did anything to make me feel like my words were uninteresting.

I know it's the bare minimum, but unfortunately he's one of the only people in my life that bothered to meet that bar.

"Hey Lauren," I said, approaching the desk in the back, "I've got someone I want you to meet."

The woman looked up from her daily Solitaire game. "Hey [y/n]! Back for more flowers....what the hell?"

As soon as she locked eyes with the boy behind me, she tensed up, and her jaw nearly dropped open. I knew she recognized him, because I'd spend hours talking to her about Enola Holmes and how amazing I thought the entire cast was. This was almost as big of a moment for her as it was for me.

"You!" She began stammering, "y-you're Louis Partridge!"

Louis smiled sheepishly. "That is true."

"I can't believe this! Louis Partridge in my shop!"

It was a shame all of this was a figment of my imagination. The look on Lauren's face was priceless, and I knew this is exactly how she'd act if I brought the real Louis into the real shop. Actually, she might faint. Maybe both.

"This one comes here a lot, doesn't she?" He asked Lauren, nudging me slightly, "she says this is the best flower shop in London."

Lauren was still starstruck. "She said that....?"

I smiled to myself, patting the side of Louis' shoulder gently. I had my fangirl moment three shifts ago, so it was all shaken out of me at this point. I wanted (fake) Lauren to meet him without me standing there like a creepy watcher.

Making my way over to the potted plants, I began to occupy myself with naming each leaf. Queen Elizaplant. Leafie. Bush. I was on a roll by the time I heard the conversation a few paces away start to end.

Glancing over at the desk, I noticed Louis lean over the counter, whispering something I couldn't quite hear. He must have said something interesting, because Lauren's eyes lit up, and she whispered something back.

I felt left out.

Whatever.

Lingering by the aisles, I waited till Louis said his goodbyes, sliding something across the counter. I didn't see what it was. Hm. He approached me soon after, following me through the aisle and towards the front of the shop.

"I like this place," he said, smiling to himself, "very cute."

I nodded. "Yeah."

I know my answer was suspiciously curt, but I was suddenly on edge. Was this jealousy? Not in a possessive way, but because I felt left out. I was being irrational, I know, and unfair, but it was my natural human error.

Louis somehow noticed it, because he grabbed my wrist, pulling me to a stop in the middle of the aisle.

"Wait," he said, twisting me around to face him, "one second."

I blinked at him.

He smiled, reaching over my shoulder to pluck something out from the shelves behind me, and held it out to me once it was in his hand. I recognized the white and yellow colors immediately.

"A daisy," he said, "for you."

Daisy's are my favorite flower.

I took it from his hand, wondering if it was a lucky guess or some sort of freaky coincidence. Or maybe it was my own mind slipping into the shift. Ignoring those intrusive thoughts, I let myself sink into the moment, tucking the flower behind my ear.

"Thank you," I said, glancing away.

He shrugged, continuing to walk. "Don't mention it."

Walking on a cloud, I followed him out of the shop, letting him grab his bicycle and hoist it out onto the pavement after me. He cast a disappointed look at the deflated front tire, but when he locked eyes with me again, he changed his expression.

"Where to next?" He asked.

I hesitated. "Next?"

I didn't mean to sound like an idiot, but I didn't expect the question.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on your day," he said, now flustered, "I got carried away."

You might be asking: "are you an idiot, [y/n]? Louis Partridge just asked where you're going next, so why are you surprised? I'll answer it. I didn't script us to stick together, and I didnt' script us to keep running into each other. This meant he wanted to stay with me on his own.

And that made me feel warm inside.

Maybe my plan was working.

"I'd be more than happy to stick with you," I smiled, giving him a thumbs up, "I was just surprised you wanted to."

He nodded. "Well, today started off rather awful, but I'm feeling a bit better now and wondered if you and your botanical skills had anything else in mind."

Heh.

"I picked the flower shop, so you pick the next place," I said, "it's only fair."

I let him mull it over, and a few seconds later an idea popped into his head. Well, not an idea, but a glance over to the ice cream shop across the street seemed to have sparked some interest.

"How does lunch sound?" He grinned.

I didn't hesitate this time. "Perfect."

Leaning his head towards the crosswalk, he began to speed off with his bicycle in tow beside him, laughing like he'd just committed an hilarious joke by leaving me in the dust.

"Race you there!" He yelled behind him, "let's go Tewks!"

Tewks.

I don't think I'll ever get over that name.