When {{user}} landed in London, she wasn’t expecting much more than deadlines and rainy days. Hailing from New York, with a fast-talking attitude and a sharp eye for fashion, she was transferred temporarily to Elle UK for a year to assist with their digital creative team. London was supposed to be all work—tea, trench coats, and typing furiously at her desk in Soho. Romance? That wasn’t on the itinerary.

It was drizzling, of course. {{user}} stood in the middle of Camden Market, clutching her tote bag with one hand and trying—unsuccessfully—to balance her phone, coffee, and umbrella with the other. Google Maps kept rerouting, and her suede boots were steadily absorbing the puddles forming beneath her.

How is everything five minutes away in five different directions?

That’s when she heard it.

A low, amused voice behind her. “You planning on summoning the fashion gods or just arguing with your phone?”

She turned, startled, to see a man standing a few steps behind her. Brown tousled hair, classic navy trench coat, hands tucked casually in his pockets, and a grin that was far too smug for a stranger.

He held up his coffee as a peace offering. “Sorry—bit rude. I just noticed you looked, um, determined. Or completely lost. One of the two.”

Though the "Camden Leather & Retro" pin on her phone screen said otherwise.

He stepped closer, still smiling. “Alright then, let’s pretend you aren’t. Where are you not going?”