Thursday morning, 7AM.

As my alarm clock chimed, I groaned, lifting myself from my mattress. "Alright, alright, I hear you..."

I reach blindly, hitting the button that turned it off. I fell back against the pillows, groaning, trying to inspire myself to get back up. I wasn't going to go back to sleep, probably just lay here for an hour or two before getting up and beginning my work. I turned to my side, reaching for my phone that I had left on my nightstand the night before, turning the screen on.

Reminders: Meet with Mr. Hamilton at the café. 1PM.

I rose up, rubbing my eyes. 

I almost forgot about the meeting. Alexander and I have been talking more, becoming further acquainted. He's a nice lad, from what I've been able to talk to him about. Very smart, and very descriptive.

I pushed myself from the bed, lazily kicking my legs over the edge, my hair falling from either side of my shoulders. My father hated the fact I'd grow my hair out, I always told him I had seen no issue. If my sisters had to, then I would do the same. 

I lazily tied it back into a loose ponytail, one I'd take out as soon as I got into the shower. I picked my phone up, going through and telling my sisters good morning, Lafayette, my brother, but, as always, skipped my father. I paused, finger hovering over Alexander's contact. I clicked it after a moment, typing a quick, 'good morning :)' before continuing my routine. 

I moved to the bathroom, though I stumbled, still trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. I closed the door, pausing before the mirror, checking over myself. Skin-care routine, hair routine, and needing fresh clothes. 

I turned the sink on, making sure the water was lukewarm before splashing it onto my face. I paused for a second, wiping my face with a towel before turning the hot water off, letting it run cold, splashing some more onto my face. It was a typical practice, used to help with pores, reducing morning puffiness, adding hydration to the skin, usually reduces the oil production, and helps slow wrinkle production. I glanced up, running a hand through my hair. 

I quickly pulled my pajamas off, turning the shower on. I typically take warmer showers, but I believe lukewarm should be fine. I lost the boxers before stepping in and undoing my hair. 

It took no more than fifteen minutes to rinse off and make sure I was clean. I reach instinctively for the handles, quickly turning them off, shivering at the cold that was waiting behind the curtains. 

I stepped carefully onto the towel that waited beside the tub- I found it far more practical than a mat- and reach for another to wrap around my waist. I thought for a long second, whether I should dry my hair with the towel or with a hair dryer. 

Hair dryer will be faster but make my hair more frizzy unless I brush it afterwards, drying with a towel will make it messy. 

Hair dryer. 

I held the towel around my waist, shuffling the one under my feet to move me back in front of my sink, the mirror now fogged over. I groaned, using my forearm to wipe away the water vapor. I looked at myself, fingers tracing over the light hair that grew on my jaw. Nothing that needed shaving, merely peach-fuzz. I tugged on the edge of the mirror, watching as it swung open, revealing most of my skin-care products- and a few odds-and-ins for my hair. 

Where my hands were still wet, it'd be best to simply work on my skin care. I plucked a few products up, closing the cabinet to where the mirror was once again in view. It should only take ten minutes to finish- including brushing my teeth-, I always use the charcoal face masks later in the night- typically once weekly.

When everything else was finished, I applied some Vaseline to my lips, letting it sit while I got dressed. I groaned, wiping it off on a cloth. I stumbled back over to the mirror, plugging in the hair dryer. Once it was on, I brought it to my hair, blowing it out of my face. 

I glanced down, hearing a buzzing noise, searching for my phone. I grabbed it from the nearby counter, answering. "Yeah?"

"What's all that ruckus?" Came the voice of a middle-aged man. 

"I'm doing my hair, dad." I glowered,  moving the dryer to the side of my head, practically blowing my hair to the other side. "Is that an issue?"

"Men aren't supposed to have long hair, I've told you this time and time again. It makes you look like you're trying to be a prissy girl-"

"You kept your hair long in your youth, why lecture me?" I questioned, tucking the phone between my shoulder an ear to have access to fixing my hair.

"Because. It makes you look like one of those pathetic hipsters or drug addicts that you see playing rock n' roll on the side of the street."

"What does that matter? It's literally just a hairstyle. I don't understand why you give me this form of lecture each time you called. I'm surprised you hadn't lectured me before telling me that mom died!" 

I heard a growl sound from the other end."You're impossible."

"Yeah. And don't call back." I muttered, taking my phone in my unoccupied hand, ending the call before placing into my pockets. He's always calling to lecture about every little thing. He could just leave me alone and let me be who I want. It's literal hair, nothing that can't grow back. 

I rolled my eyes, switching the blow dryer into the opposite hand, bringing it up, drying the hair there. 

With my luck, today may throw me around and treat me like I'm just garbage on a street side. Hopefully, that won't be the case after I get to talk to Alexander again. He seems to be able to brighten the mood just a bit, which is lovely. I need a bit of a boost after all that. 

Finally, my hair was dry and I turned the hair dryer off, unplugging it from the wall. I placed it back into it's spot, turning and leaving the bathroom. I stopped by my laundry, grabbing a pair of clean socks and then my shoes. Now that I'm dressed and everything, it's just now nearing 7:45 AM.

I sighed, slumping back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. Just have to wait until 12 before heading out. 

---

12:30 PM.

My eyes shot open and I stared at the time. I rose quickly, stumbling to get my shoes on. I fell asleep!? I hurried out of my bedroom and down the stairs, hurrying to get out the front door. I nearly slid as I hit the sidewalk, moving rapidly between the people there. 

Heaven's sake, why didn't I set an alarm. 

I checked my phone, seeing that Alexander had texted. 

'Are we still meeting?'

'Yes, my apologies if I'm late. I busied myself and lost track of time.' I lied. I didn't want it to seem like he bored me. The café was no more than twenty minutes away, so surely, I'll be able to get there on time.

I kicked some snow out of my path, walking past a few young women before turning a corner. 

It was just a few more minutes from here.

...

I finally stopped in front of the café, breathing heavily- even if the air didn't feel like cooperating. I pulled the front door open tiredly, taking a step inside. And there he was, waiting to take his order. "Alexander," I called quietly. 

He turned and I smiled, waving. He chuckled a bit, looking me over. "Blue jeans and a light jacket doesn't seem to be the best attire for a winter day, Mr. Laurens." 

"Oh, I know," I laughed quietly. "I'm used to this weather, though. Frostbite here and there on the cheeks. But, as long as my fingers, hands, and feet stay warm, it's unlikely anything major will occur."

"That's good," He smiled, taking the drink handed to him. I looked to the cashier, smiling.

"Marquis," I greeted. 

"John! Pleasantries, monsieur!" The Frenchman laughed softly. "The barista was wondering when you'd come back in. Your regular?"

I nodded slowly, feeling for my wallet. I froze, grimacing. "Place it on my tab. I forgot my damned wallet at home." 

"Oh?" Marquis rose a brow, glancing past my shoulder again. "In a rush?" He smirked.

I glanced over, seeing Mr. Hamilton, face burning. "... Don't even start that, Marquis." I threatened, marking a couple things down on the paper handed to me. "I'm here to meet him, just not for that reason."

"Are you certain? He seems awful giddy that you arrived... Is it not some form of... eh... date?"

"He's just going to be showing me a couple things with his career... No." 

Lafayette rose a brow suspiciously, and turned his back to me, talking to the barista. She chuckled a bit, from what I saw, and went back to making the coffee. The Frenchman turned back to me, a smile on his face. "With today's special, you get a side-order of cinnamon toast sticks with your order of black coffee."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't question it, monsieur. It's business." He smiled, shooing me away. "My friend will bring your stuff to your table. You're sitting with Hamilton, yes?"

"Yes-?"

"Alright, move along then." 

I pursed my lips, moving over to the table. "Mr. Hamilton," I greeted, sitting down. "A pleasure to see you again, sir."

"Oh, you too! I've been looking forward to this meeting all week." He grinned, plucking away at the keys on the laptop he had brought in. I tilted my head a bit, smiling. 

"Blog?"

"Blog." He confirmed, bringing his drink to his lips. I watched his features shift as he tilted his head back with the drink. The way some muscles tensed and other's loosened. The way his jaw relaxed and brows raised. The way his eyes closed, letting the light kiss his face. I tilted my head to the side, trying to get a better observation with the angle I was looking from. 

His eyes met mine and he lowered his drink, smiling. "Is something wrong?"

"What? No! No, my apologies-... I tend to zone out- and-"

"Zone out or observe?" He questioned, a soft smile on his face. 

"Observe." I corrected, clearing my throat. "My apologies if I made it awkward." 

"No, it's alright. It's... interesting to see how your career, and perhaps every day life has grown to affect you."

I chuckled, leaning back in my seat. "How so?" 

"Well, you're from the Carolinas-"

"South," 

"South Carolina... So you're familiar with lands. Before your career, you were clearly into the natural world. The paintings you made when you were a teen show it so clearly! You knew these species as if they were something so familiar that you held one in the palm of your hand to draw them." He began explaining, "And, then you went into your career- working with the natural world- and your zoology... You're observant and most definitely someone who focuses on their surroundings. Always need to know what's behind you, before you, and around you." 

I perked my brows, leaning in a bit. "You're quite the observant one, aren't you?" 

"Comes with asking questions and visiting certain locations commonly." 

I nodded, turning when I heard footsteps, seeing the barista setting down my drink and the cinnamon sticks. I rose a brow. "That took a bit of time."

"Apologies... Had to prepare the cinnamon sticks," She chuckled, walking away. I shrugged, looking at them, almost tempted to go ahead and dig in. I glanced to Alexander who seemed more amused than anything. I pushed them towards him. 

"Want one?"

He tilted his head to the side. plucking one up cautiously. "Thank you, I appreciate it." 

I took one for myself, biting into it, enjoying the familiar taste. It- somehow- reminded me of my time on that little farm in South Carolina, where my mother would prepare us breakfast. I smiled gently, looking over to Alexander. "So, um..." I took a napkin, wiping my mouth, "You said that I could see your blog?"

"Oh, yes!" He sat the cinnamon bread stick on a napkin, wiping his hands against his pants. He turned his laptop around, and I smiled. In a large font read, 'Blogs with Alexander Hamilton, Local New York Writer'.

I smiled, scrolling down. I read a couple of his most recent articles but froze when I saw my name. 

'Today, while sitting the café I had reviewed earlier, I had met a polite gentleman. Learning more of him- getting to know his name- I knew immediately that I had met a new friend. John Laurens, naturalist, had joined me for coffee that morning. He showed interest  in my career, and I knew immediately that this young man would be a reoccurring figure. 

I had learned of the man a year earlier, reviewing old magazines that I had found in an old thrift shop. He is a fashionable man, and talked in the most mature way in his time talking. He answered various questions I had asked, letting me in on some details about his time in Switzerland and the animals he met there. "Beautiful cats," he had recounted as he explained to me the lynxes. 

I found soon after that he has a degree in Zoology and during his studies in Switzerland, he got a close look at the cats they had there. "Scientific name... Lynx, higher classification Felinae," he had informed me, admiration in his eyes. He clearly has a passion for his career and it's such an interesting thing to see. I would love to join his side and walk through and listen to him explain these cats in much greater detail.

More to come next week!'

I glanced up to him, interested. I chuckled, finishing my cinnamon stick. "I didn't expect to see my name."

"Well, I see you as a figure anyone would look up to. It's been an honor to meet and grow to know you." 

"You too," I smiled warmly, taking a sip from my coffee. "It's been interesting, truly."

There was a silence as he scrolled back through his blog. I offered a soft smile, simply wiping my hands with a napkin. He glanced up after a moment, obviously when he though I was distracted. He was clearly examining my appearance, but I had to confess it made my face burn red. 

I glanced to meet his eyes, though he only smiled in return. My heart pounded more than normal, and my stomach felt as it was fluttering with butterflies. I can't fall for him- no. That would be preposterous, we've barely known one another for more than a week.

"Are you alright, Mr. Laurens?" 

"Just fine." 

"Your face is red. Some would mistake it for frostbite," he teased playfully. I chuckled gently, reaching up to graze a couple fingers over my face. My cheeks were burning and were most definitely red. 

"Oh, pardon that," I excused, fanning myself. "Coffee had been a bit warmer than what I thought."

"Been there," He winked, typing away at his keyboard. I watched for a moment, leaning onto my palm. He was something. Something spectacular, remarkable, stunning, excelled. Someone going to be something. But, frankly, not someone who would ever be mine. 

I felt almost sorrowful at the thought, but I know it's true. We will be friends, but there is little chance that he will share such feelings. He is merely a friend. And that's what we'll stay.

...