The hustle and bustle that came with Oxford Street was unsettling. I was never a fan of packed spaces, but standing out in the cold, amongst the frantic shoppers is the last place I want to be right now. More so, when one barges right past me, the action jerking my shoulder back. I don't have time to bite out an insult, because as quick as it occurs, the quicker they're blending into the mass of colours ahead.

I sigh in dissatisfaction and grumble under my breath, shoving my gloved hands into the pockets of my North Face jacket and lean against the brick wall, throwing my head back as the wind hits my face. My face begins to go numb at the harsh cold, biting at every inch of my visible skin.

Though the weather forecast predicted high temperatures all day long, it is in fact a cold October afternoon-a perfect example of British weather. I pay no mind to the passerby's and instead focus my attention on the entrance of the Selfridges store, waiting for a certain dark haired girl to make an appearance.

As per Valentino's orders, I sent Aiyana a message before I left. However, when I glance down to my phone for the umpteenth time, eyes trailing over the delivered message it seems as though she still hasn't read my text. In fact, after the blunder she pulled last week, I don't doubt she'd want to read my messages.

That's no fault of her own though. After she practically spammed my phone with a number of sorry's and no's and bye's, I decided it was best for me to ignore her. Besides, I didn't know how to fucking feel after reading her messages; sure, I was flattered-I always am-but I was a little terrified at the context behind it.

I shake my head at the thought and bring my attention back to the building I was currently standing in front of. And when I glance down to my phone once again to see if she's read my message, there's still no reply.

I groan, ready to text Val, when I hear a soft sorry, followed by the same nervous laugh that seemed to haunt me in my sleep. My head snaps up in the direction of the sound, spotting Aiyana bow her head to the middle-aged couple before her, wincing when they began to spew some bullshit.

I'll admit, she looks good. Really good. Her black uniform consisting of a fitted jumper, a skirt and tights clung to her body in all the right places. She looks deceivingly taller, but I deduce it's from the heeled boots she wore. Her thin jacket does nothing to keep the cold out as she shoves her hands into her pockets, turning away to walk right towards me.

My eyes dance over the slender nape of her neck, on display due to the sleek, high bun, as she crosses her arms over her chest. Her shoulders sag drastically as she drops her head, concealing her growing frown.

I wait for her to find me, to perhaps smile and wave, but when I come to the conclusion she isn't going to notice me anytime soon, I stick my arm out.

My hand instantly wraps around her forearm, pulling her against the wall and to my side with ease. Her familiar sweet pomegranate and Casablanca lily perfume wafts through the air, tickling my nose. I almost sneeze at the scent, before turning to face her.

Aiyana simply stares up at me, blinking and wide-eyed, swallowing thickly, but it's the lone tear settling on her cheek that has me concerned.

I shouldn't be concerned, I barely knew her.

And when she subconsciously grazes her teeth across her lower lip, raising her small palm to cover my hand that remains gripping her arm, I snap out of my trance.

I want to ask her if she's ignoring my messages, if she bothers to open her texts, but the only thing that I can seem to utter is, Are you okay?