How Many Shots of Espresso!?

"I miss you so much!" Even with my sunglasses on, I had to shield my eyes from the brutal Los Angeles sun. It was scorching. And muggy. I still hadn't adjusted. Truthfully, I wasn't sure I ever would.

"I bloody hate this! I get why you're doing it, I do—but I still bloody hate it," Olivia groaned, her face suddenly filling my screen as she leaned in closer. "Wait—are those Prada sunglasses?" She squinted suspiciously.

"Oh, not you as well. Oliver's been teasing me too!" I groaned, my eyes doing an involuntary roll. "You know I'm not usually one for designer labels, but I just loved them. I snagged them in the sale cheap while I was picking something up for you, actually! I was trying to keep it a surprise, but you know I'm hopeless at that. So expect some post soon."

I sidestepped a petite jogger who zipped past me. Honestly, how did anyone run in this heat?

"Bet your dad and Oli are going absolutely spare without you!" Olivia was pacing now, drifting through her house as I followed her every move through my iPhone screen. 

"Don't be dramatic—you have Jack." I laughed softly. Jack always joked I was the second girlfriend. Where Olivia was, I was never far behind.

"Dad's been sending me pictures of everything. Oli's actually messaging me more now than when I'm home! And don't be dramatic—you have Jack." I laughed softly. Jack always joked I was his second girlfriend. Where Olivia was, I was never far behind.

"He's not you!" she pouted, then grinned. "I can't believe you're still going to be there another ten months. Ten months, Eleanor! And I'm just here, barely functioning without you. Honestly, I miss you so much, Elle. Are you doing okay, though?"

"I think so. I don't regret it. But yeah... it gets lonely. My life's just work, gym, sleep—on a loop. I've been going for walks and the odd hike. The guys on my team keep trying to drag me out for drinks. I should probably just say yes one of these days."

"Please do. You'll feel so much better once you're out and about. It's heart-breaking seeing you so down. You are sunshine, Elle. We all know it." Her words hit me like a wave, tears stinging my eyes. Honestly, how did I get this lucky with my people?

"God sake, making me cry in the middle of the street!" I muttered, slipping a finger under my sunnies to dab at the sneaky tears.

"You cry at everything, don't you dare blame me," she smirked. "Also, do you realise how white girl Instagram you look right now?"

"Well, I am in LA, babe—it's practically the uniform," I teased, flipping the camera to show off my crop top, gym leggings, jacket and trainers. My hair was loose in natural waves, held back by a soft jersey headband. She wasn't wrong—I looked like an aesthetic post waiting to happen. "If it makes it any worse," I added with a grin, "I just left the gym and I'm heading to Starbucks."

"Iced oat latte?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Do I ever order anything else?" I scoffed. Olivia was loyal to her skinny vanilla latte with sugar-free syrup—which she then promptly added one sugar to. I never understood the logic.

"You look amazing, Elle. I meant to tell you last night." I could see she'd propped her phone against the kitchen counter as she made breakfast. The time difference still completely threw me.

"What are you on about? I've just come from the gym—I look like I've crawled out of a hole."

"I'm talking about the Instagram post you put up last night. I've been to the gym maybe seven times since you abandoned me, and you're over there basically living like the poster girl for wellness. You're the basic bitch I aspire to be."

"I literally have nothing else to do. I'm trying to evolve. Let me have this glow-up in peace!"

"Have you heard from him since you got there?"

"A couple of times. The first time, I replied like an idiot. He started acting like his usual twatty self—left me on read for days. The second time, I saw the notification, ignored it, went to the shop, bought a bottle of wine, drank said wine, read the message, deleted it, and that was that. Radio silence since. And honestly? I feel so much better. I spent so long thinking he was everything. I made myself ill over it, Liv. I questioned everything. How was I ever that stupid?"

"You're not stupid. Well, maybe a tiny bit. But not about that. He was a complete arsehole. I'm just he's out of the picture."

"Me too." I felt a wave of pride just saying it out loud. 

"Seen any more celebs lately?" Olivia asked—same question, every call.

"Not since Andrew Garfield in Walmart," I said, spotting my local Starbucks just ahead. I knew the signal would drop the second I stepped inside. "Liv, I've got to go—I'm nearly at Starbucks and the Wi-Fi's tragic in there. I'll text you, maybe we can FaceTime later?"

"Or you could go out and get hammered? Go live, Elle!"

"Yeah, yeah we'll see. Talk to you later. Love you. Miss you." The picture was already glitching as I reached for the door, trying to end the call while pushing my sunglasses onto my head—completely forgetting about the tiny step into the building. I went full force through the doorway and straight onto the floor of Starbucks, crashing into the back of someone's legs as I fell. I watched in slow motion, of course, as their legs buckled and braced myself for full-body impact.

"Woahhhh, hey there. You alright?" His hand was in front of my face before I'd even processed the fall.

"Umm, I think so. Nothing hurt, just possibly my pride. Do you reckon anyone saw that?" I laughed awkwardly, taking his hand. Was I laughing from embarrassment? Absolutely. I wanted to disappear into the floor.

"Only about ten, maybe fifteen people?" he teased, still holding my hand as I got to my feet.

"Oh brilliant. That's just enough witnesses to ensure I can never show my face here again. Time to find a new local Starbucks." Now upright, I could finally see more than just his jeans and massive hands.

"This your local? I've never seen you in here before. And with entrances like that, I definitely would've remembered." He chuckled. Woahhhh, what a smile!

"I like to keep things interesting. Sometimes I enter like a normal person. Other times, I go for full chaos. No in-between. I'm probably the clumsiest woman alive."

He laughed again, and I couldn't help but feel a tiny flicker of pride for making him laugh. "Pedro."

"Pascal," I blurted, watching his brow lift. "I mean—you're Pedro Pascal. As in yes, I know who you are. Who doesn't? Christ. I'm Eleanor."

"You're funny, Eleanor." The way he said my name...ugh. I swooned. 

"Come on, you go ahead of me." He gestured, and like an obedient puppy, I did exactly that.

"Thanks, Pedro." I smiled, catching his nod before he stepped away to answer a call. I noted to myself to let Olivia know about this IMMEDIATELY.

"Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your name please, ma'am?" The politeness still threw me. Back home, it was always: 'Name? Takeaway? What d'you want?'

"Eleanor. Iced oat latte, please. Large. And—this is going to sound odd but see that guy over there? The one in the Lakers tee and sunglasses? His name's Pedro. I've no idea what he's having, but please could I pay for it?"

"Absolutely, Miss. Your total's $4.95."

I handed over fifteen dollars. "Pop the change in the tip jar, please."

"Thanks, miss. If you'd just wait to the side. Have a great day!" I did as instructed, quickly stepping aside—not before sneaking a final glance at Pedro, who was still deep in conversation but raised a hand when he caught me staring. I beamed and skipped out of the way, trying to play it cool.

Me: You are not going to believe who I just nearly flattened in Starbucks when I fell over?!

Liv: WHO?! Do I fancy them??

"Eleanor, iced oat latte?" I collected my drink with a grateful nod and made my way to a tiny table for two tucked away in the corner. I glanced up—and there he was. Pedro, now off the phone, standing just a few feet from where I'd been earlier. It was oddly surreal, watching someone so Hollywood do something so... everyday.

Me: I've forgotten his character's name in Game of Thrones but PEDRO. FUCKING. PASCAL. I've never been so mortified.

Liv: Are you KIDDING ME?! What happened?! Jack and I hate you right now!!

"I suppose I have you to thank for this?" His voice, low and warm, caught me off guard. I looked up to find him grinning at me, standing far too close for my heart to behave.

"Oh yeah. It's the least I could do, really, seeing as you broke my fall." That inevitable blush spread across my cheeks.

"Well, thank you. Can't remember the last time someone bought me a coffee. I appreciate it." His smile reached the corners of his eyes. God help me.

"You're very welcome."

"Expecting someone?" he asked casually.

"Nope."

"So I can join you, then?" He was already pulling out the chair before I could respond. My stomach did a flip.

"What brings you to the States?" he asked, leaning back in the chair, sunglasses still firmly in place.

"Work. I got the chance to do a year out here. And... I needed a bit of a reset, if I'm honest. It came at the right time."

"What do you do?"

"I work in property."

"Oh, cool, that's—"

"Boring. Not what I imagined I'd end up doing. I just sort of... fell into it."

"Seems like falling into things is your speciality," he teased, making me blush again. "What did you want to do?"

"What I wanted to do was be in a band. Travel the world. I love music so much. But I can't sing, and I never really committed to an instrument—just ended up being mediocre at a few. I wanted to act, but I realised I didn't want fame. I wanted to be in films and shows, just... not recognised. Bit of a contradiction, I know."

"Yeah, bit of a tough one." He chuckled. "How long have you been in LA?" he asked.

"Almost two months. Still got ten to go."

"You don't sound thrilled about that?"

"No, I like it, really. It's been everything I imagined. I've always been fascinated by American culture. But I miss home more than I expected. I've always been independent—more so since Mum passed."

"I'm sorry. I get that. My mum passed too."

"I'm really sorry. It's hard, isn't it?"

"Still is," he said softly.

"She died seven years ago, and it still hits me sometimes. I was 21. She made a huge fuss for my birthday—and then six months later, she was just gone. How old were you?"

"24. That was... 24 years ago. And it still fucking hurts."

"I'm sorry. Wait—48?"

"Way to kick a man while he's down!" He laughed—a proper, belly-deep laugh. I couldn't help but grin.

"I didn't mean it like that! You don't look 48!"

"Just turned last week."

"Well, happy belated birthday, Pedro."

"Thank you, Elle. And you are...?"

"28. Nearly 29. Which is practically 30."

"Well, you don't look it ei—"

"Yes. Almost 30, Pedro."

"Almost 30," he echoed, then looked at me in a way that felt... longer. More thoughtful.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Yeah, just thinking."

"Looks painful."

"You're very witty, aren't you?"

"I'm English. We're born with wit, an obsession with Sunday roasts, and an unbreakable emotional attachment to pubs. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Just... thinking." He paused. "Let me see your nails?" He extended his hand just like he had earlier—gentle, unassuming. I placed my fingertips into his palm.

"I need to get them done. My appointment's not till next week." Little pastel flowers decorated each nail.

"They're—uh—they're pretty."

"Thanks. I can give you her Instagram if you fancy a fresh set yourself?" He laughed again, and just as I was soaking in the moment, my phone buzzed on the table. It was Olivia.

Liv: Girl, you can't drop a bomb like that and then ghost me!!!

Another buzz.

Instagram: samb01423 posted for the first time in a while.

I opened it by accident. There he was. Sam. With his new girlfriend. But to my surprise—I felt nothing. No anger, no jealousy. Just... peace.

"Boyfriend trouble?" Pedro asked, watching me over his lenses. It was the most serious his face had looked all afternoon, but still soft and warm.

"Haha, no. He was never my boyfriend. Just a - nothing really, it's complicated. It was just a notification for a post. I unfollowed him."

"Hmm. That doesn't help me out."

"With what?"

"Deciding if I can ask for your number."

"You want my number?" I smiled, then narrowed my eyes. "Why are you still wearing sunglasses inside?"

"Yes, I do. And—" He lifted them slightly to reveal the warmest, deepest brown eyes I'd ever seen. "They're prescription. I'm old. Can't see a thing without them. But I am enjoying seeing your face crystal clearly."

"Oh, it is a pretty face," I joked, sipping from my straw, feigning confidence.

"It is," he said, completely serious.

"I was joking," I said, panic flashing across my face.

"I wasn't. So, can I get your number?" He was already pulling out his phone.

"Of course. Here, you'll have to read it. I get confused with American numbers." He carefully typed it in, reading it back to me as I nodded. That grin again. "I've got to run soon, but I'd love to see you again this week if you're free?"

"Nothing but work. Text me and we'll sort something."

"I will." He stood, tugging at his T-shirt. Somehow, even that was charming. "I'll show you the real LA. You haven't really seen it yet."

"That sounds amazing." Words were failing me.

"Leaving or staying?"

"Leaving too."

"Come on, I'll walk you out." He waited while I gathered my things, then we wove through the café side by side.

"You going to manage the door this time, or...?" he teased as we reached it.

"I think I've got it. Probably." Once we were outside, I realised he was actually going. My heart sank a little.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, sipping his coffee, the other hand dipping into his pocket.

"Just wondering what to do with my evening—"

"I'll text you now so you have my number." He tapped quickly at his screen. Seconds later, a buzz from my bag. "That'll be me. I hope."

"No one texts me apart from my friends, family, and colleagues."

"Well, I'd like to hear more about you. But I really have to go. This week though. Promise." He looked down—and so did I.

His shoelace had come undone.

"Would you mind holding this while I sort that?" he asked, handing over his cup. It wasn't really a question. Naturally, I peeked at the label.

"How many shots of espresso!?"