April 4th 2016

Ok, so I've seen all your theories about which of the characters will get their heart broken. I know which one it'll be, but I'm not telling you/ giving you clues. However, you're all correct about Sophie when you say that she's self-destructive when it comes to relationships. She's a tough nut and she's hard to crack. So, we'll see how it all pans out.

Also, from some comments left on previous updates- I do see all your comments. I read every single one of them. And I love them all! I try to reply to as many as I can and I love the discussions that come from them. Your comments lead my stories and I take on board everything you say/ think. I love you all very much, and if you missed one reply where I said #TeamEffort, just know that everyone who reads/ comments/ votes are a part of that team!

Ok, that's enough of me being mushy! Here's your update! P.S. Thanks, to Flynetta1212 for all the help with the slang at the end of this (unedited) chapter. You are seriously a freak, but I love you <3

Sarah, xx

~*~*~

"Hey."

"You don't sound happy."

"Tired, that's all."

"How was your first day?"

"Busy."

"Did it go ok?"

"Yeah."

"Soph?"

"Hm?"

"This sounds like a one sided conversation here."

"Sorry. My day was good, thanks. Started early because I couldn't sleep. Bloody nerves knotting my stomach. Arrived early, found out that I was shadowing the Art Director in addition to my editorial job. I thought I'd be more on the creative side but I really enjoyed it with Nigel. He's funny and really, really good at his job."

"Did he hit on you?"

"I'm not his type. I don't have a penis."

"Did you honestly just say that in your most serious voice? Like, you probably didn't even bat an eye at it."

"What, penis?"

"Sophie!"

"Why are you getting worked up about it? You have one."

"Yes, but..."

"Vagina!"

"Soph-"

"Testicles!"

"Sophie-"

"Ovaries!"

"Seriously, Soph-"

"PERIODS!"

"I'm glad New York hasn't changed you. You're still completely fucking mental."

"Haha, always, my love. Still, as I was saying, Nigel is gay. Therefore, I'm the last person he wants to have sex with."

"Good to know."

"How's London?"

"Oh, you know. A little rainy this morning but it's cleared up now."

"That's very British of you, Daniel. Talking about the weather."

"It's the only interesting thing going on here."

"The only thing? Well, what about Greg's home visit for Alfred's adoption? Are you going to tell me about that?"

"Bad news."

"What?"

"Kidding. It went great. I get to pick him up tomorrow after work."

"So, at about ten pm, then?"

"Finishing at five tomorrow. I've got responsibilities now. A dependent, as they say."

"Aw, that's cute."

"Ambition in life complete."

"So, Alfie gets to come home tomorrow, huh?"

"Alfie?"

"It's cuter than Alfred. Why, you don't like it?"

"It's ok, I guess. I just think for an older gentleman like him, Alfred is better."

"Please, I saw his mischievous side on Friday. That dog is playing the 'I'm old' card."

"I'm sticking with Alfred."

"I'm sticking with Alfie."

"Shall we agree to disagree?"

"Done. Send me photos tomorrow, though."

"Will do."

"Any other London updates then?"

"Not really. Hugo was over last night."

"Yeah, how'd that go?"

"He was a little mopey but nothing a cold beer and poker with my mates couldn't cure."

"Did he teach you any French?"

"A little."

"C'mon, lets hear it then."

"Um, je m'en fou."

"He taught you that? I don't give a fuck?"

"Conasse."

"Excuse me? I think I need to have a word with Hugo because he should not be teaching you shit like that!"

"It means 'ass' doesn't it?"

"... Yeah, let's go with that version, then."

"What other version is there?"

"A more... vulgar word. For the female anatomy. Four letters, starts with 'c.'"

"He taught me to say that?! Well, that's it then. I need to invite him around more!"

"Daniel!"

"I'm joking. He taught me some other stuff, too. Peter des plombs. Means, 'to blow a gasket,' right?"

"Right. Literally, it means 'farting lead.'"

"Merde."

"Please, eleven year olds in secondary scool know how to say 'shit' in French."

"True."

"I don't think I like Hugo's influence on you. I'll have a word."

"Don't! He's like the male version of you, so he's really fun to have around. Don't change him."

"Alright. I might regret it, but fine. Do you want to see a photo of the outfit I wore today?"

"You're going to send it to me anyway, aren't you?"

"You're learning. Ok, here it comes."

"What do you think? Too much?"

"Your legs look good."

"And?"

"Weren't you cold?"

"I hate a coat, too, for when I was outside. But it looked ok, right?"

"You looked great, Soph. What about your second day outfit for tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet. I think I'll go for a statement shoe and build something around that."

"Sounds like a plan. How does your day look tomorrow?"

"Editorial meeting, shadowing Nigel, meeting some NHL player for an article... other stuff, I guess."

"NHL?"

"National Hockey League. Ice hockey."

"Ah, right. So you have to interview an ice hockey player?"

"Yeah. God knows what I'm going to ask him. I know zero about ice hockey! The only thing I'm a hundred per cent sure of is that it's hockey played on ice. And even then, it's implied in the name!"

"Haha, I'm sure you'll be fine. Does this mean that you've finished writing mine?"

"I had that done by the time we touched down in New York."

"Well that was quick."

"Like it was hard! It was- quite literally- the easiest thing I've ever had to write!"

"So, it's good?"

"Of course it's good. I bloody wrote it!"

"Can I read it?"

"... Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because my editor hasn't seen it yet."

"I thought your were the editor."

"But even I have a boss to answer to. Until it gets the go ahead, I'd rather that no one read it. I'll send you an advanced copy once it's a done deal."

"Sophie, please? Please, Soph?"

"No!"

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty-"

"NO!"

"Not fair!"

"Live with it, Duckie."

"Oh, it's like that, is it, Pug?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Haha, ok. I can play that game too, Dory."

"I bet you can, Danny Duck."

"Yeah... um... uh..."

"Ha! You've run out of nicknames for me! I win at life!"

"You suck at life."

"You're just jealous."

"Oh, yeah, most definitely."

"Shut up, you penis."

"Soph."

"Why does this word bother you so much? Dick, cock, willy, whang, shaft, Princess Sophia, rod, the snake, dong, the D-"

"How do you know so many different ways to say..."

"Penis, Daniel. The word is penis."

"I know what it's called, thank you."

"Just thought I'd clarify it."

"Just out of interest, though- Princess Sophia?"

"From that film."

"What film?"

"How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days."

"Ah. And how exactly did that come about?"

"Well, you know how men name their penis? The woman named the guy's Princess Sophia."

"Right, because that's normal."

"Maybe. Does your have a name?"

"Does yours?"

"Yes, Daniel, my penis has a name."

"..."

"I don't have one to name, you plonker."

"It would be a surprise if you did have one."

"So? Does yours have a name?"

"If it does- and I'm not saying that it does- I'm not sharing it with you. Ever."

"I'll get it out of you one day."

"Never!"

"I will. Just you wait."

"Good night, Sophie!"

"What?!"

"Good. Night. Sophie."

"But-"

"Night, Soph!"

"Daniel Whitaker, don't you dare hang up on me! If you hang up, I won't call you tomorrow!"

"That's the beauty of phone calls. They can work both ways!"

"... I won't answer you!"

"Yeah, you will."

"No, I won't."

"Yes. You will. Because you're totally and utterly in love with me."

"Daniel?"

"Yes, Soph?"

"Fuck off."

[Call ended]