It happened just as Rick was leaning over the bar, hoping to capture the barman's attention. The club was filled with students, dancing in time to the loud beat so perfectly in time that the floor was vibrating underneath his feet. The Icebreaker event was one of the most popular of the year, providing London University students with exclusive tickets to some of the best clubs in the city. Tonight was the crown jewel of fresher's week – an entire seven days dedicated to the partying hard of new university students.
The faceless brunette who Rick had been eyeing up for the past twenty minutes turned and seemed to stare at him in shock for a moment.
"You?" She said in disbelief, Rick somehow hearing her clear-cut London accent through all of the noise.
At first, Rick looked down at her blankly. Had he accidentally stepped on her shoes?
But, just as realization slowly dawned on him, Rick felt his heart begin to race – those blue eyes, that blonde hair...
"I have been looking for you for... A while," She continued, laughing. Rick couldn't help but automatically step back as she turned to face him, leaning forward. "I can't believe it's you! You're... Here!"
Rick couldn't help it. Before she'd even finished, he was stepping backwards in a bid to increase the space between them, shaking his head. Oh no. He'd recognize those eyes anywhere. They were the same pair of crystal blue eyes that had been haunting his dreams for the past six months.
"Where are you going?" She questioned innocently, Rick's pace quickening with each word. Suddenly, her face changed – her cheery expression gave way to a stern face of caution, daring him to move further. "No. No, Alaric do not-"
It was too late. Rick dived into the crowd, weaving through the masses of gyrating bodies, stumbling out into the crisp winter air, just preventing himself from unceremoniously falling on his face.
Clarity, that was what Rick needed. With a handful of deep breaths, Rick's heartbeat began to slow down. Yes, just some clarity, a moment to take a breath –
"Rick, wait!"
Clarity could wait.
Without hesitation, Rick forced himself to run down the empty alleyway with a groan. He didn't care how fast he ran, how stupid he looked, nor that the girl was attempting to chase after him – he just knew he damn well wasn't going to get caught.
. . .
Despite it being 9am on a Sunday afternoon, the large cafe-cum-bookshop was already bustling with young new families and their nannies, tourists and bleary-eyed students adamant to do their homework.
Rick tiredly sat at the small table in the corner, nearest to the coffee bar. He hadn't slept all night. Seeing her on Friday...
Thankfully, that was when a large mug of coffee with milk, sugar and vanilla essence and a breakfast bagel was slapped down in front of him.
"So, how was your precious party the other night?" Callie asked, rolling her eyes.
Upon seeing his best friend, Rick relaxed in his seat. She was already wiping down tables, her dark blonde hair tied messily away from her face. It had become their ritual, ever since they'd met in the spring for induction week. Rick would visit Callie for breakfast every morning – and at first, although she insisted he was not going to be on the receiving end of a free breakfast, would give in and scrub the tables in the corner extraordinarily well whilst they caught up. They hung out plenty outside of The Atelier, too – but it had become tradition.
"What party?" Rick asked tiredly, taking a long, hard sip of his coffee, cursing as the liquid burnt his tongue. Clearly, Callie had noticed his expression and taken pity – hence the absence of their usual argument.
"Oh, right, I forgot." Callie sighed theatrically, stacking dirty dishes onto a tray. She temporarily stopped, her hands resting on her hips. "Sorry. Is that you're too cool to remember the party you went to, or is that you just get invited to so many parties it's hard to keep up?"
Rick groaned as Callie snickered to herself. Callie wasn't like Rick – she wasn't a budding socialite who enjoyed going out and meeting new people. On the contrary, Callie was an anti-social hermit who much preferred her pyjamas and a movie marathon in the comfort of her own bed, than dressing up and "paying for over-expensive alcohol that would probably taste the same but in a different bottle, at the local off-license". Upon hearing that, Rick had had to confusedly ask what the Hell an off-license was.
Apparently, it was a lot like a mini grocery store.
"Don't be like that." Rick groaned. "It's not like you weren't invited! Everyone was given tickets to the Icebreaker last night."
"No, everyone who paid a ridiculous amount for a fresher's pass solely for that event got tickets to the Icebreaker last night." Callie corrected. "But I'll let you live in your happy little bubble. Are you going to tell me what's got you looking like a ghost or not?"
"There's no point complaining to you." Rick told her through a mouthful of bagel. "All you do is say I told you so."
"Oh, that reminds me!" Callie suddenly shouted excitedly. Unthinkingly, she dropped her damp cloth on the table and pulled up the chair opposite him, her round amber eyes shining with excitement. "Okay, so I was watching Jerry Springer re-runs on television last night, right? And there was this guy who was found cheating on his girlfriend with a guy, but he claimed to not know it was a guy he cheated on her with-"
"This is exactly why you need to get out more." Rick murmured, shaking his head in disappointment. Callie ignored him, waving her hand for him to be quiet. Rick couldn't help but listen – Callie was always at her best like this, chuckling to herself as she tried to get her words out.
"- and so when Jerry was all how did you not know you were having sex with a man, you know what the guy said?" Callie beamed excitedly. "He said it was dark inside the club! And it instantly made me think of you! Hence the free breakfast this morning." Callie leant forward, eyes glinting mischievously. "Is that what happened, Rick? Did you accidentally have sex with a man in a bathroom, because it was too dark to tell the difference?"
Rick settled on a simple eyebrow raise as his response.
This was one of two of Callie's moods – the only two she had. There was the current, cheeky, mischievous Callie and later would mark the return of the sarcastic, antisocial, people-hating Callie.
Not that Rick minded. There was something about Callie that demanded Rick's attention and Rick knew Callie felt the same – she'd admitted as much. The likelihood of the two of them remaining friends had been slim as soon as they'd both began college – sorry, university – but they'd admitted to one another that there was an intrigue to them. Rick was glad – Callie was proving to be a hoot so far and he knew he was damn good company.
"No." Rick finally sighed, seeing Callie was still waiting expectantly for an answer. "Actually, it was... Kind of more serious than that."
Instantly, Callie bristled slightly. Rick was the more socially aware of the two of them, the more moderate counterpart to her own madness. Of course, that didn't by any means make Rick serious – he was just as fun-loving and crazy as anyone would expect him to be. So when Rick did mention something was serious... Well. It had Callie's attention.
"Okay, you've successfully shut me up." Callie said slowly. "What happened last night?"
Rick hesitated. Where did he begin? It was one thing to say he recognized the girl from the party last night, knew her like he had her entire life, despite having never met her before that moment – and it was another to say he thought he recognized her.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Rick told her grudgingly, taking another sip of coffee. "You'd think I was crazy."
"Are you forgetting who you're talking to?" Callie laughed, leaning forward. "The amount of craziness I have seen and heard firsthand at the orphanage has left nothing on this Earth that could possibly surprise me. Your partying antics probably won't even register, my craziness meter is so high." Callie smiled, pausing. "Though I will admit, any time I hear something about an STI, I still react the same way, no matter how many times I hear it. Every single time it's like the first." Callie frowned. "You didn't catch anything over the weekend, did you? Should I sit further away?"
"You're hilarious." Rick said drily, though unable to hide his smile. "I just... There was this girl-"
"Are you sure you don't have an STI?" Callie interrupted teasingly.
"Yes." Rick laughed. "Will you please shut up now and let me talk? If I contract syphilis in the near-distant future, I promise you'll be the first to know. Happy?"
Callie nodded.
"Go on, go on, I have to stop skiving in five minutes." She hurried deliberately, grinning as Rick stared at her in disbelief. Maybe if she shut up for more than five seconds, he'd be able to get a word in edgeways.
"This girl from the bar..." Rick began, unable to help but notice the way Callie's eyebrow instantly rose in distaste. "I don't know, she – she recognized me from somewhere. And I recognized her, even though..." Rick glanced up at Callie nervously.
"Even though...?" Callie prompted.
"Even though I've never seen her before in my life." Rick finished quickly, suddenly staring intently at the table. Okay. This was it. He hated lying to Callie and now – after seeing – someone, someone had to know. And why not Callie? They may not have known each other for particularly long, but they were friends. Rick trusted her and, well, Rick didn't trust anyone – the closest he got was allowing somebody else to buy his drinks, normally ill-meaning girls in short skirts who whispered dirty things in his ear. Not that he minded so much. "Callie, what would you say if I told you I was an angel?"
Callie studied Rick seriously for a moment.
"I'd say that's probably the reason a lot of people want to punch you in the face, you conceited prat." Callie replied honestly. Rick's shoulders instantly slumped in defeat. "I get you're Mr Hotshot Party Boy but an angel? Don't you think that's pushing it a little too much?"
"You said you'd heard it all, that nothing could faze you!" Rick argued. "You seem fazed right now!"
"This isn't fazed, this is mildly disgusted that I thought you were a functioning human who was having a bad day and deserved breakfast paid for with my wages today." Callie told him haughtily, returning to her feet and snatching Rick's half-eaten breakfast bagel away. "Angel my arse."
"Wait," Rick grabbed Callie's wrist before she could leave, despite telling himself it was useless. Because honestly, who would believe that? Rick was struggling with it himself. He hadn't even believed his stupid dreams had meant anything until Friday evening, seeing... Her.
Michaela. Well, that was what he thought her name was, anyway – that was the name from his dreams. The Archangel Michaela, calling out to him for help.
Rick knew it sounded crazy. Oh, he was all too aware of how mad it made him seem. Heavenly delusions of being an angel, between the partying and attempting to learn how to work a British door? He may as well have raging sociopath in progress tattooed across his forehead.
Assuming eyes didn't come that blue had helped Rick ignore the persistent the dreams became, how real it all felt. It had all started a few months ago – he'd come home late from a small job, just before he was due to fly to London for his college induction week, when he'd felt as if he'd been knocked into by a FedEx delivery truck. His shoulders had felt on fire, his head had felt like it was going to explode... Of course, he put it down to stretching something during his workout earlier in the day.
Of course, it hadn't really been that easy to ignore.
Now, living in ignorance was clearly out of the question. Although Rick wanted nothing more than to forget he'd ever seen that girl in the flesh – let alone her knowing his name which, by the way, was top secret information, what with Alaric hardly being the most laidback name in the world -, knowing such piercing blue eyes did exist made chills run down Rick's spine at the thought.
Was he mad? Some kind of lunatic? In a sick way, Rick hoped so. It was a lot less terrifying than the alternative.
"You know I'm not the good guy of the story, right?" Rick finally managed to say, watching Callie's expression seriously. "I'm not... I'm not the hero of the story."
Rick's jaw tightened as he remembered the newest way in which he'd proved that to himself. At the party, in the men's toilets – seeing one of the University's students snorting coke off of the sink, his friend beside him begging him to stop, that it was too much. When they'd seen Rick, the one lining up the drug had asked him what he thought – and what Rick said calmly? Go ahead. Take as much as you want. There's no such thing as too much and if there is, well, you'd be dead before you noticed.
He'd been laughing as he said it. It hadn't meant anything and considering Rick hadn't noticed any ambulances during his stay, he assumed the boy was fine – but all the same, that hadn't been a nice thing to do.
It was a flaw in Rick's personality. Although he lacked the desire to be good, or moral – his conscience demanded he miss it, pine for something that he most definitely did not crave.
"Rick." Callie sighed, slapping his cheek lightly. "Honey, I know you're not the good guy."
Rick's chest tightened.
"You do?"
Callie nodded.
"You want to know how?" She offered, Rick already nodding tersely before she was finished with her sentence. "You tip like a mizer." Wanting to strangle Callie in that moment didn't even begin to cover it. "Now do you think you can save your philosophical meltdown for one of your party girls? Or drink your coffee and debate what it means to be true, but at least let me serve my customers so I don't get fired." Rick nodded, smiling ruefully to himself. Well, what else had he expected? And Callie was right. He tipped like he was Donald Duck's version of Scrooge. "Unlike poor little rich boys like yourself, some of us are hand-to-mouth students who would like to be able to afford a re-fill next time we're at a restaurant."
"When you get off your shift, how about I take you out for-"
"If you say coffee I'll stab you in the throat!" Callie sang loudly over her shoulder, already slipping behind the coffee bar.
"I was going to say a burger and fries." Rick retorted, knowing it was her weakness. Why had he even bothered trying to explain something he didn't understand? In that moment, Rick decided normality was what he wanted – which was exactly what Callie provided. And if it were as easy as getting Callie to believe her best friend was an angel – and a very particular type – well, then everyone would be able to tell. "Still not interested?"
"I am very much interested." Callie called from behind the counter beside him. "You do your reading. Oh, and Alfie popped by this morning, he said he was going to pop back in to try and find you later."
"Cool." Rick replied brazenly, pulling his iPad from his jacket pocket. Classes started in less than a week and he hadn't so much as looked at the English or History reading lists. That was another reason why meeting Callie every morning whilst she worked was so effective – the coffee shop gave a lovely view of the square and nearby art gallery, but with Callie watching over him, Rick was one hundred percent guaranteed a slap upside the head if he so much as glanced at the picturesque view.
Callie didn't find it cute how enamoured Rick was in the difference between London and New York architecture. She found it obvious.
Not that Rick was an overtly obvious person. Upon hearing he was doing a joint honours in English Literature and History, Callie had nearly laughed out loud. There was only one way to describe Rick – as exceedingly cool. Although Callie couldn't imagine Rick studying anything else after he'd told her his degree choice, upon first glance, she wouldn't at all have expected Rick to be so concerned with the artistry of the world around him, the little details that he thought made life interesting.
As shallow as Callie knew it sounded, his appearance was the most misleading. Callie knew she was exactly what her appearance projected; ordinary, uncaring and unable to exert the energy the human population demanded of her for social etiquette.
Rick, on the hand, was every dark, brooding stereotype Callie had ever watched. He was tall, with messy dark hair, icy cool blue eyes and cheekbones that Callie was sure were crafted from some sort of steel. He was one of the boys – Alfie was one of the many acquaintances Callie had watched Rick make – and the silent hero. The only reason Callie even knew who the Hell Alfie was and was passing on messages on his behalf, was because there'd been some ruckus outside when the shop was near closing time. It had been the day before and upon hearing the gruff shouts, Rick had immediately shot up to handle the commotion.
Which had led to Alfie and Rick's newfound friendship.
Regardless, everything about Rick seemed a walking contradiction. He laughed openly at the prospect of being a hero – there had been plenty of female onlookers in the shop, all too happy to praise Rick's bravery -, partied and wooed as if it came as naturally as breathing to him, read books on weekend mornings for fun and was almost – almost – as sarcastic as Callie was on most days. He was a walking contradiction and had Callie not experienced Rick's paradox firsthand, she never would have been able to believe it.
She, however, was rather straightforward. Callie had no faith in humanity, a dry sense of humour, a lack of patience and what she considered as fairly ordinary looks that she put no effort whatsoever into enhancing. She had been brought up in an orphanage in West London her entire life and had no real prospect of family – Rick hailed from a successful family in the States, a large one with many influential relatives. She struggled to maintain her independence, more out of necessity than choice – Rick could squander what he liked, due to his extensive material support.
Even now, months later, Callie couldn't quite understand how it was that she and Rick had struck up such a strong and unique friendship so suddenly. They were both exactly what the other was wary of – but after countless accidental encounters on campus during induction week, had been unable to help but become friends.
"Morning, Callie, you look happy this morning." Callie glanced up, her mental reverie interrupted, to see Alfie smiling happily down at her. Ah, yes, Alfie, with his dark red hair and sleek black glasses, the only person who dared to treat her with such familiarity. "Good weekend so far?"
"Well, I'm working on a Sunday morning, which I think pretty much sums it up for you." Callie replied amusedly. Alfie was one of those exceedingly pleasant people – the type of person who couldn't help but invoke conversation. Alfie, Callie had noticed within seconds, thrived on other people's happiness. Even after almost being beaten up to an inch of his life outside of the coffee shop, he had been smiling, making Harry Potter references to the horrified children who had witnessed Rick dragging Alfie's bruised and bloodied face into the shop. "How're those bruises of yours faring?"
"A repugnant yellow that reminds me, strangely, of pancake batter." Alfie laughed. "Speaking of which, is my knight in shining armour around yet?"
Callie laughed.
"Just around the corner, reading again." She told him. "Want anything? I get off my shift in an hour, so if you're one of those fussy customers, wait."
"Just a hot chocolate will do." Alfie beamed, offering Callie a ten pound note. "Keep the change!"
"Now that's how you tip someone like an angel." Callie murmured in approval, slipping the change from the register into her pocket.
. . .
"Okay, I'm done." Callie groaned, collapsing into the chair between Rick and Alfie. They'd been pondering over Level 376 of Four Pics, One Word for the past half an hour, calling it improving our vocabulary. Callie wasn't so sure. "Give me the two seconds it'll take me to realize I'm starving and then I'll magically have the energy to get up and eat."
"What is the similarity," Alfie murmured, his eyes not moving from the screen. "In a bird, coins, coffee and a receipt on one table, a gavel and the documents of Congress?"
"Bill." Callie replied immediately, making both boys yell at their own stupidity. "Can we go and eat now?"
"Yep, my friend should be here any minute now." Alfie shrugged.
"Friend?" Callie repeated. "Oh, no, hang on a second – just because I play nice with you, doesn't mean I'm ready to interact with people this early." Callie glanced at Rick in alarm. "Tell him, please!"
"She isn't a very friendly person." Rick told Alfie entirely seriously. "One time, some girl we met at our library induction told her that she had a nice bag, and Callie went off on some crazy rant about how that kind of narrow-minded, shallow acceptance of the media's definition of beauty is morphing young girls' minds into deformed anorexic pieces of mush until the girls' eyes started to water."
"I also blamed her for global warming." Callie added proudly. "She knew I was right."
"That she's the sole reason for the ice caps melting?" Alfie laughed.
"No." Callie frowned. "That she was an idiot."
"Ah." Alfie nodded. "Well, don't worry. My friend is kind of-"
"A domineering, control-freak sass extraordinaire who isn't afraid to defend herself, or others?" Callie and Rick turned to see an attractive young girl behind them – one with golden blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes Callie had ever seen. She waved at them awkwardly. "Hi, I'm Ella. Ella Archer."
"Ella, this is Callie and-" Alfie began, only to be interrupted – and it was only then that Alfie and Callie noticed how Rick's body had frozen completely upon the arrival of Alfie's friend.
"Alaric Lysander." Ella finished, smiling serenely. "You didn't think I'd lose you again, did you? God only knows I've been trying to find you for long enough."
It was interesting, Callie thought to herself. She'd never seen Rick go that shade of green.