October.

I quickly averted my gaze to my chipped nail polish nail polish from months ago and then to my fingers that rested on the table but were now in a mess since I couldn't stop fiddling them. "Michael," I called, through gritted teeth, my gaze still on my hands. "Michael he's staring at me." Suddenly I felt insecure and nervous again, which was kind of comical, seeing that this l h boy was literally just a street across from me. Why the hell was I so nervous?

Michael was just about to turn his head to his direction when I stopped him. "No, don't!" I whisper-yelled. "If you look now, he'll know we're talking about him."

Michael stifled a laugh. "Why are you whispering? S'not like he can hear you, anyway." He was right. Damnit. This day isn't going too well. I want to throw up.

"Well, yeah, but have you seen the guy? S'like he could look into your eyes and read your soul, or something. Yeesh."

"Tobe, relax," Michael spoke calmly, whereas I feel like the café is getting smaller and smaller and the thoughts of l h having his eyes on me makes me want to rip myself to shreds until I'm no longer visible.

Michael brought his hand to his mouth, pinching his lips and looking at me in deep thought while I tilted my head at him. What was he thinking about?

A devious smirk came across his lips. Oh god, this wasn't going to be good. "I got it!" he blurted out, making half of the tens of people in the coffee shop glare at him and give him looks as he sunk into his seat while I giggled.

He licked his lips and stole a quick glance at the boy across the street, who was indeed, still looking at me.

"You're going to go over there, and-"

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Absolutely not. En aucune façon. I'd rather bury myself in a snake hole than do that. Like, with a bunch of snakes."

"Well it's him we're talking about here. Wouldn't be much of a difference, don't you think?" That was true, by the way he was looking at me intently, it was like he was a cobra devouring its prey - with his eyes. And I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I squirmed in my seat.

Go, do it! My inner conscience tells me. You never know what could happen!

No, don't do it! My mind interrupts. You never know what could happen!

I groan and put my head in my hands, earning a confused look from Michael. "I don't know," I finally squeaked, feeling suddenly drained.

"Yes, you do." Michael encouraged, taking my wrists in his hands and I brought my head up to look at him. "I'll sneak a cookie from the front and hand it to you on your way out. That way Bruce won't know I took it in the first place."

After a minute of contemplating and battling with worries and doubts, I decided, fuck it. Like I said, I was determined. "Alright."

Michael squealed (I know, it was terrifying for me as well) and slid out of his seat slyly, as if this was some James Bond shit he was pulling. After a few minutes, he came back panting - which I still don't have the reason as to why he looked like he ran half a mile - and with a smile plastered on his face he handed me a Starbucks wrapper with the cookie in it.

"Remember," Michael warned, as we both stood up. "He touches you, makes even one move, and he's dead." He deadpanned, giving me a stern look.

"Aye aye, captain." I saluted him giving him a quick hug. "Go on," he motioned towards the door. "Skedaddle!" I eyed him skeptically but giggled and walked to the door but stopped abruptly. Holy shit, I thought, this is fucking happening. I was going to find out who my l h boy is.

I look back at Michael who only shot me a thumbs up. I gave him a nervous smile and a wave before walking out the door and crossing the street.

l h had taken his eyes off me, probably a while ago, not noticing I came by until I stopped right in front of him. He gazed at my shoes and slowly looked up, taking me in and that insecure feeling was back again.

"I-I u-uhm," I stuttered, mentally slapping myself on the forehead. Smooth as peanut butter, Tobe. Unless it's crunchy peanut butter. Then you're doing a horrible job.

"You look stressed," No he didn't, Tobe, he looked hot. Lame excuse. "So I brought you this." I spoke, surprised that my voice didn't falter. I weakly extended my arm that held the wrapper. He averted his gaze from my face to my hand and stared at it like it was some alien that came from space, still unamused. I averted my gaze from his eyes to my black Keds, probably blushing like a mad person.

After what seemed like hours, he took the bag and looked in it, examined it, smiling. "Oatmeal," he muttered almost like he didn't mean for me to hear and my head shot up. "My favourite. How'd you know?"

"Oh I- uh, guessed." Laughing a bit. He liked oatmeal cookies. Another thing to check off my Things About l h list. Now, his name.

"Thank you." he spoke, quietly but loud enough for me to hear him, looking away. He broke off a piece and started to eat, while I just stood there, feeling like I was intruding when he sat there eating in peace, and began fiddling with my fingers and stared at my shoes. I turned to the coffee shop to find Michael staring at us.

"Fifteen minutes." he mouthed, and motioned his hands in a shoo type of matter. Guess I'll have to make the most of it.

I cleared my throat and took a seat on the bench. It was quite small, so while he was sitting fairly close to the center, I, was sitting oddly close - to the bench's arm rest, that is.

It's not like I didn't want to be close to l h, because I did. I wanted to get to know him, his secrets, why he sits here instead of in the shop, what's in his little book, what bands he listens to. But instead, what came out was -

"So... How's the weather?" I feel like cussing to myself and giving myself a thousand face-palms wasn't going to work. I was just truly an idiot.

He laughed half-heartedly next to me, and I could feel my face getting hot. Damn it, October. For once can you stop being such a loser?

"What's your name?" he asked, ignoring my dumb question, thankfully.

"October. October Winters." I replied, probably still blushing. His eyebrows furrowed.

"October." He repeated. The way my name rolled off his tongue was so precise and sounded so delicate along with his accent - Australian, I assume, like Michael's - and suddenly it became my most favourite sound in the entire world and I didn't want anyone else to say my name, but him.

"Like the month?" he sounded genuinely interested, which surprised me.

"Yup." I replied a little more confidently, making a popping noise when I pronounced the 'P'.

"Nice name. Did you know that 'Octo' in October means eight, but October is the tenth month of the year. But that's only because Julius Caesar just had to add in two more months named after his nephew, Augustus and himself. Which is why we have July, and August."

Now I was fully shocked. Not only was he mysterious, alluring and incredibly hot, but he was smart too? Could he be any more perfect?

"O-oh, oops," he flushed, looking away. "Sorry. That sounded really weird. I'm sorry." He was so cute, Jesus Christ.

"N-no, don't be sorry. I actually learned something from that, thank you." I giggled.

"October Winters." He repeated once more. "The month and the season match too, kind of. A package deal."

I could feel myself blushing again, so I looked away. "What's your name?"

His smile faded, and his unamused look was back as he looked away, to the cars parked on the right side of the street. "I'm not here to make useless conversations. Sorry. You can go, now." Ouch. What the hell just happened?

It's like someone flicked a switch on him or something. One minute he's a cute, adorable person who spits out facts and then suddenly he's this isolated guy who's apparently too cool to make useless conversations. Well I'm not standing for it.

"Well, you were kind of the first one out of both of us to blurt out a fact you got just from my name, which I change my mind to, wasn't very useful to me, so," I snapped standing up, dusting my hands on my leggings. "Guess I'll get out of your way then. Oh, and by the way, it'd be nice to get a fucking thank you for that cookie, because some people are actually attentive and go out of their way for people who look like maybe they need a break too." I huffed, probably sounding a bit overdramatic, but I didn't care.

I turned and walked away from the douche when I felt someone grab my wrist and turn me, having it be the first person I want to see when I enter the café to the last as of right now. "What?" I barked.

"You're something else, October Winters." he acknowledged, voice quiet and standing close to me. Letting go of my wrist, he started walking down the street. "And by the way," he added, walking backwards to face me.

"It's Luke. Luke Hemmings."