hiya! i’m amber, and you can find me under names amber-pope or amber-lovney ❤︎
i’m a hopeless romantic in my early thirties who aspires to become a published author.
my blog is nsfw and 18+ (minors and ageless do not interact) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
here, i post my original stories of different genres, but they all feature spicy content ♡̶
my Ko-Fi
please do not repost my work on any platform or turn it into a video of any kind. i also do not consent to my works being fed to and used to train any AI.
Quick PSA regarding moodboards:
simply because I place an image of an actor, a rally driver, or a person with a specifically coloured hair, it doesn't mean I'm imagining or suggesting that's how any of my MCs look like. It's just a moodboard, here to help with vibes, and not a blueprint that needs to be blindly followed <3
Summary: Moving for her studies, Amelia is trying to navigate her new life, which becomes incredibly complicated after a chance meeting with a mysterious stranger.
Word count: 1.4k
Warnings: 18+ and smut (evenutally), minors and ageless do not interact, fantasy, vampires, witches, supernatural, slow burn, mutual pining, slow start, no beta
Amelia stilled.
His eyes were a deep brown colour, almost indistinguishable from his pupils. Amelia’s eyes followed the gold signet ring on his pinky and then trailed back to his eyes. He was also pretending to only listen to his colleague, and Amelia wondered how she hadn’t noticed him earlier.
All day, Amelia couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
It was that nagging feeling existing somewhere between intuition and anxiety, and no words of self-encouragement could appease it. She almost texted her psychiatrist, but instead decided to put on her big-girl pants and delude herself as she absently nodded in response to her friend.
It’s just stress, she kept repeating in her head like a sad little mantra, stress of moving, stress of grad school, stress of studying and working, stress of stress. She rubbed her temples.
“Are you alright?” Mia, her new friend, asked, blowing on her ramen. Maybe friend was too strong a word, but Amelia felt like one day, they could very well be best friends.
”Yes, yes,” Amelia muttered in response, barely trying to be louder than the rest of the restaurant guests. “I haven’t slept well.”
”Me neither, I was up late revising for that seminar on molecular genetics,” Mia rolled her eyes, sharing Amelia’s feelings and opinions on their professor and her questionable teaching methods.
“Given how much we are paying for the privilege to study here, you’d expect something… more.”
Amelia flashed a shy, agreeable smile, watching Mia navigate her long, luscious hair in a tight bun, while adding even more chilli flakes to her ramen. The gnawing feeling was still there.
Mia trailed off on another monologue about how disappointed she was with England; Amelia’s eyes wandered around. Luckily, Mia was already used to it.
Between nodding and agreeing, Amelia herself wasn’t sure who she was looking for, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of being observed, almost like a specimen, a worm with spilt guts under a microscope.
Looking around, she momentarily fixed her gaze on the rainy street outside, wondering if she would ever be able to recreate the taste of this particular ramen at home, in her little shared kitchen, with only a handful of spices her and her roommates pooled together.
“I am sick of listening about transgenic animals,” Mia proclaimed with a dramatic sigh, segueing into another monologue. Amelia was grateful, as she couldn’t put a sentence together today without sounding like she was suffering from a stroke.
Maybe coming here was too much; maybe she should have gone to Germany. What if her health fails her again?
Amelia’s gaze wandered again, from plate to plate and face to face, until it finally met the eyes staring back at her.
Amelia stilled.
His eyes were a deep brown colour, almost indistinguishable from his pupils. Amelia’s eyes followed the gold signet ring on his pinky and then trailed back to his eyes. He was also pretending to only listen to his colleague, and Amelia wondered how she hadn’t noticed him earlier.
With his perfectly tailored three-piece suit, he was vastly overdressed, better suited to an exclusive club that would serve centuries-old wine than to a Japanese restaurant occasionally frequented by grad students. His head was illuminated in such a way that it seemed to Amelia like he almost had a halo around him.
She wasn’t panicked or paranoid anymore, but unnaturally tranquil.
”Do you know that guy?” Mia asked, turning around to look at him, flashing him a big smile. Knowing Mia, she probably even winked at him.
“I am not sure,” Amelia whispered, her eyes still fixated on his face, trying to desperately place both him and the feeling.
He averted his gaze, but not before his lips gave away a little curl that threatened to develop into a smirk. A condescending one, Amelia thought.
After making sure that Mia entered her building, Amelia decided to take a stroll back to her apartment. The rain just stopped, and it wasn’t too dark - she quickly checked her phone to make sure she was on the right path, and then let her thoughts wander.
She wondered who that man from the restaurant was, and more importantly, if he really was following her around the whole day. Surely not, she told herself, almost chuckling. Her eyes roamed from house to house, taking in the neighbourhood, until her attention was stolen away by a small black square on the sidewalk.
Amelia looked around, although she was the only person out on the street, before picking up the wallet and cautiously continuing, hoping she wasn’t just naively becoming a victim of an elaborate scam. Turning the corner, she opened the wallet.
”You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she whispered to herself. Him again. His face was staring back at her with the same intensity as its real counterpart
Bank cards, credit cards, and business cards. Bingo. Although the business card listed a London address, she knew this particular bank also operated here in Cambridge. She smiled to herself for guessing his profession, but only for a split second, as she looked behind her, that gnawing feeling at her heels again.
Amelia’s heart was beating like crazy, so loud she could hear it in her ears. It was all too neat, too orchestrated, and as the night spread its long fingers around her, Amelia decided just to walk straight home.
First thing after locking her doors behind her, she took photos of both his business card and the ID. Better safe than sorry. Then, she nervously called the number on the card. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four…
“Yes?” his voice was deep and just a little raspy.
Amelia felt that anxious knot in her stomach, tiny drops of sweat collecting behind her ears.
“Hi, I found your wallet,” despite literally just rehearsing, her voice still stuttered. She bit her lip in embarrassment.
”Right,” he said lazily. “I was just about to cancel my cards.”
Amelia could swear she could hear a smirk in his voice, mixed with arrogance and entitlement she had heard so many times before.
“Right,” she repeated, already over it all. Why did she have to pick up that wallet? She was also fighting the urge to offer to bring it to him, her psychiatrist’s words bouncing around her mind. Stop people pleasing, was his main rhetoric, so Amelia decided to listen to his discombobulated voice.
“What’s your name?” he asked, although it almost sounded like an order, a demand.
“Am-, Anna,” she swallowed quickly, cursing herself the whole time.
She could hear a quick exhale, a smirking exhale, and again felt the eyes on her. She turned around, towards the only window, her eyes meeting the blinds. Slowly, she checked the garden, almost as if to make sure this guy wasn’t menacingly standing in the middle of it.
“Would you awfully mind bringing it to me tomorrow?” he finally yielded. “I usually take lunch at Seta Nera.”
Amelia swallowed. Seta Nera was exactly the restaurant he would frequent. Posh, fancy, and vastly overpriced, an exact choice for a VP of banking like him, or whatever said on his business card.
“What time?” Amelia tried to sound polite, nice, but felt like her temperamental and a little judgmental attitude spilt over just a smidge.
“Would one o’clock work for you?”
“One o’clock, Seta Nera,” Amelia nodded as she repeated the words back to him.
“See you then, Anna,” he sounded almost breathless, and Amelia didn't want to know what she was interrupting. “Good night.”
She hadn’t had a chance to respond before he hung up.
Amelia checked his ID again. Marcus. The name suited him, old and strong, aristocratic, Amelia thought, scrambling to put a nice outfit together.
A black silk shirt with a long wool skirt should be fine. Shoes, what about the shoes? She mostly had sneakers and one pair of rain boots, but she was sure she packed those ankle boots she got the last time in Vienna. Perfect. The colours might clash a little, black, grey, and leather brown, but she was more worried about the make-up; usually she was too tired in the morning to put anything on, but she really wanted to look put together. To impress.
Setting the alarm clock for an hour earlier than usual, she finally had some time to think. Trying to impress whom? A possibly creepy stalker who managed to orchestrate her coming to him?
Tomorrow, I’ll be stern, she said to herself. Tomorrow, I’ll be quiet. Tomorrow, I ask questions. Tomorrow.
If you like my writing, all interactions are greatly appreciated-`♡´-
Edited so the name of the friend (Mia) is the same all the way through. As you probably guessed, I changed the character name and missed in a couple of instances 🙈
Summary: Moving for her studies, Amelia is trying to navigate her new life, which becomes incredibly complicated after a chance meeting with a mysterious stranger.
Word count: 1.4k
Warnings: 18+ and smut (evenutally), minors and ageless do not interact, fantasy, vampires, witches, supernatural, slow burn, mutual pining, slow start, no beta
Amelia stilled.
His eyes were a deep brown colour, almost indistinguishable from his pupils. Amelia’s eyes followed the gold signet ring on his pinky and then trailed back to his eyes. He was also pretending to only listen to his colleague, and Amelia wondered how she hadn’t noticed him earlier.
All day, Amelia couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
It was that nagging feeling existing somewhere between intuition and anxiety, and no words of self-encouragement could appease it. She almost texted her psychiatrist, but instead decided to put on her big-girl pants and delude herself as she absently nodded in response to her friend.
It’s just stress, she kept repeating in her head like a sad little mantra, stress of moving, stress of grad school, stress of studying and working, stress of stress. She rubbed her temples.
“Are you alright?” Mia, her new friend, asked, blowing on her ramen. Maybe friend was too strong a word, but Amelia felt like one day, they could very well be best friends.
”Yes, yes,” Amelia muttered in response, barely trying to be louder than the rest of the restaurant guests. “I haven’t slept well.”
”Me neither, I was up late revising for that seminar on molecular genetics,” Mia rolled her eyes, sharing Amelia’s feelings and opinions on their professor and her questionable teaching methods.
“Given how much we are paying for the privilege to study here, you’d expect something… more.”
Amelia flashed a shy, agreeable smile, watching Mia navigate her long, luscious hair in a tight bun, while adding even more chilli flakes to her ramen. The gnawing feeling was still there.
Miriam trailed off on another monologue about how disappointed she was with England; Amelia’s eyes wandered around. Luckily, Miriam was already used to it.
Between nodding and agreeing, Amelia herself wasn’t sure who she was looking for, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of being observed, almost like a specimen, a worm with spilt guts under a microscope.
Looking around, she momentarily fixed her gaze on the rainy street outside, wondering if she would ever be able to recreate the taste of this particular ramen at home, in her little shared kitchen, with only a handful of spices her and her roommates pooled together.
“I am sick of listening about transgenic animals,” Mia proclaimed with a dramatic sigh, segueing into another monologue. Amelia was grateful, as she couldn’t put a sentence together today without sounding like she was suffering from a stroke.
Maybe coming here was too much; maybe she should have gone to Germany. What if her health fails her again?
Amelia’s gaze wandered again, from plate to plate and face to face, until it finally met the eyes staring back at her.
Amelia stilled.
His eyes were a deep brown colour, almost indistinguishable from his pupils. Amelia’s eyes followed the gold signet ring on his pinky and then trailed back to his eyes. He was also pretending to only listen to his colleague, and Amelia wondered how she hadn’t noticed him earlier.
With his perfectly tailored three-piece suit, he was vastly overdressed, better suited to an exclusive club that would serve centuries-old wine than to a Japanese restaurant occasionally frequented by grad students. His head was illuminated in such a way that it seemed to Amelia like he almost had a halo around him.
She wasn’t panicked or paranoid anymore, but unnaturally tranquil.
”Do you know that guy?” Mia asked, turning around to look at him, flashing him a big smile. Knowing Mia, she probably even winked at him.
“I am not sure,” Amelia whispered, her eyes still fixated on his face, trying to desperately place both him and the feeling.
He averted his gaze, but not before his lips gave away a little curl that threatened to develop into a smirk. A condescending one, Amelia thought.
After making sure that Miriam entered her building, Amelia decided to take a stroll back to her apartment. The rain just stopped, and it wasn’t too dark - she quickly checked her phone to make sure she was on the right path, and then let her thoughts wander.
She wondered who that man from the restaurant was, and more importantly, if he really was following her around the whole day. Surely not, she told herself, almost chuckling. Her eyes roamed from house to house, taking in the neighbourhood, until her attention was stolen away by a small black square on the sidewalk.
Amelia looked around, although she was the only person out on the street, before picking up the wallet and cautiously continuing, hoping she wasn’t just naively becoming a victim of an elaborate scam. Turning the corner, she opened the wallet.
”You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she whispered to herself. Him again. His face was staring back at her with the same intensity as its real counterpart
Bank cards, credit cards, and business cards. Bingo. Although the business card listed a London address, she knew this particular bank also operated here in Cambridge. She smiled to herself for guessing his profession, but only for a split second, as she looked behind her, that gnawing feeling at her heels again.
Amelia’s heart was beating like crazy, so loud she could hear it in her ears. It was all too neat, too orchestrated, and as the night spread its long fingers around her, Amelia decided just to walk straight home.
First thing after locking her doors behind her, she took photos of both his business card and the ID. Better safe than sorry. Then, she nervously called the number on the card. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four…
“Yes?” his voice was deep and just a little raspy.
Amelia felt that anxious knot in her stomach, tiny drops of sweat collecting behind her ears.
“Hi, I found your wallet,” despite literally just rehearsing, her voice still stuttered. She bit her lip in embarrassment.
”Right,” he said lazily. “I was just about to cancel my cards.”
Amelia could swear she could hear a smirk in his voice, mixed with arrogance and entitlement she had heard so many times before.
“Right,” she repeated, already over it all. Why did she have to pick up that wallet? She was also fighting the urge to offer to bring it to him, her psychiatrist’s words bouncing around her mind. Stop people pleasing, was his main rhetoric, so Amelia decided to listen to his discombobulated voice.
“What’s your name?” he asked, although it almost sounded like an order, a demand.
“Am-, Anna,” she swallowed quickly, cursing herself the whole time.
She could hear a quick exhale, a smirking exhale, and again felt the eyes on her. She turned around, towards the only window, her eyes meeting the blinds. Slowly, she checked the garden, almost as if to make sure this guy wasn’t menacingly standing in the middle of it.
“Would you awfully mind bringing it to me tomorrow?” he finally yielded. “I usually take lunch at Seta Nera.”
Amelia swallowed. Seta Nera was exactly the restaurant he would frequent. Posh, fancy, and vastly overpriced, an exact choice for a VP of banking like him, or whatever said on his business card.
“What time?” Amelia tried to sound polite, nice, but felt like her temperamental and a little judgmental attitude spilt over just a smidge.
“Would one o’clock work for you?”
“One o’clock, Seta Nera,” Amelia nodded as she repeated the words back to him.
“See you then, Anna,” he sounded almost breathless, and Amelia didn't want to know what she was interrupting. “Good night.”
She hadn’t had a chance to respond before he hung up.
Amelia checked his ID again. Marcus. The name suited him, old and strong, aristocratic, Amelia thought, scrambling to put a nice outfit together.
A black silk shirt with a long wool skirt should be fine. Shoes, what about the shoes? She mostly had sneakers and one pair of rain boots, but she was sure she packed those ankle boots she got the last time in Vienna. Perfect. The colours might clash a little, black, grey, and leather brown, but she was more worried about the make-up; usually she was too tired in the morning to put anything on, but she really wanted to look put together. To impress.
Setting the alarm clock for an hour earlier than usual, she finally had some time to think. Trying to impress whom? A possibly creepy stalker who managed to orchestrate her coming to him?
Tomorrow, I’ll be stern, she said to herself. Tomorrow, I’ll be quiet. Tomorrow, I ask questions. Tomorrow.
If you like my writing, all interactions are greatly appreciated-`♡´-
Summary: Moving for her studies, Amelia is trying to navigate her new life, which becomes incredibly complicated after a chance meeting with a mysterious stranger.
Word count: 1.4k
Warnings: 18+ and smut (evenutally), minors and ageless do not interact, fantasy, vampires, witches, supernatural, slow burn, mutual pining, slow start, no beta
Amelia stilled.
His eyes were a deep brown colour, almost indistinguishable from his pupils. Amelia’s eyes followed the gold signet ring on his pinky and then trailed back to his eyes. He was also pretending to only listen to his colleague, and Amelia wondered how she hadn’t noticed him earlier.
All day, Amelia couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
It was that nagging feeling existing somewhere between intuition and anxiety, and no words of self-encouragement could appease it. She almost texted her psychiatrist, but instead decided to put on her big-girl pants and delude herself as she absently nodded in response to her friend.
It’s just stress, she kept repeating in her head like a sad little mantra, stress of moving, stress of grad school, stress of studying and working, stress of stress. She rubbed her temples.
“Are you alright?” Mia, her new friend, asked, blowing on her ramen. Maybe friend was too strong a word, but Amelia felt like one day, they could very well be best friends.
”Yes, yes,” Amelia muttered in response, barely trying to be louder than the rest of the restaurant guests. “I haven’t slept well.”
”Me neither, I was up late revising for that seminar on molecular genetics,” Mia rolled her eyes, sharing Amelia’s feelings and opinions on their professor and her questionable teaching methods.
“Given how much we are paying for the privilege to study here, you’d expect something… more.”
Amelia flashed a shy, agreeable smile, watching Mia navigate her long, luscious hair in a tight bun, while adding even more chilli flakes to her ramen. The gnawing feeling was still there.
Miriam trailed off on another monologue about how disappointed she was with England; Amelia’s eyes wandered around. Luckily, Miriam was already used to it.
Between nodding and agreeing, Amelia herself wasn’t sure who she was looking for, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of being observed, almost like a specimen, a worm with spilt guts under a microscope.
Looking around, she momentarily fixed her gaze on the rainy street outside, wondering if she would ever be able to recreate the taste of this particular ramen at home, in her little shared kitchen, with only a handful of spices her and her roommates pooled together.
“I am sick of listening about transgenic animals,” Mia proclaimed with a dramatic sigh, segueing into another monologue. Amelia was grateful, as she couldn’t put a sentence together today without sounding like she was suffering from a stroke.
Maybe coming here was too much; maybe she should have gone to Germany. What if her health fails her again?
Amelia’s gaze wandered again, from plate to plate and face to face, until it finally met the eyes staring back at her.
Amelia stilled.
His eyes were a deep brown colour, almost indistinguishable from his pupils. Amelia’s eyes followed the gold signet ring on his pinky and then trailed back to his eyes. He was also pretending to only listen to his colleague, and Amelia wondered how she hadn’t noticed him earlier.
With his perfectly tailored three-piece suit, he was vastly overdressed, better suited to an exclusive club that would serve centuries-old wine than to a Japanese restaurant occasionally frequented by grad students. His head was illuminated in such a way that it seemed to Amelia like he almost had a halo around him.
She wasn’t panicked or paranoid anymore, but unnaturally tranquil.
”Do you know that guy?” Mia asked, turning around to look at him, flashing him a big smile. Knowing Mia, she probably even winked at him.
“I am not sure,” Amelia whispered, her eyes still fixated on his face, trying to desperately place both him and the feeling.
He averted his gaze, but not before his lips gave away a little curl that threatened to develop into a smirk. A condescending one, Amelia thought.
After making sure that Miriam entered her building, Amelia decided to take a stroll back to her apartment. The rain just stopped, and it wasn’t too dark - she quickly checked her phone to make sure she was on the right path, and then let her thoughts wander.
She wondered who that man from the restaurant was, and more importantly, if he really was following her around the whole day. Surely not, she told herself, almost chuckling. Her eyes roamed from house to house, taking in the neighbourhood, until her attention was stolen away by a small black square on the sidewalk.
Amelia looked around, although she was the only person out on the street, before picking up the wallet and cautiously continuing, hoping she wasn’t just naively becoming a victim of an elaborate scam. Turning the corner, she opened the wallet.
”You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she whispered to herself. Him again. His face was staring back at her with the same intensity as its real counterpart
Bank cards, credit cards, and business cards. Bingo. Although the business card listed a London address, she knew this particular bank also operated here in Cambridge. She smiled to herself for guessing his profession, but only for a split second, as she looked behind her, that gnawing feeling at her heels again.
Amelia’s heart was beating like crazy, so loud she could hear it in her ears. It was all too neat, too orchestrated, and as the night spread its long fingers around her, Amelia decided just to walk straight home.
First thing after locking her doors behind her, she took photos of both his business card and the ID. Better safe than sorry. Then, she nervously called the number on the card. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four…
“Yes?” his voice was deep and just a little raspy.
Amelia felt that anxious knot in her stomach, tiny drops of sweat collecting behind her ears.
“Hi, I found your wallet,” despite literally just rehearsing, her voice still stuttered. She bit her lip in embarrassment.
”Right,” he said lazily. “I was just about to cancel my cards.”
Amelia could swear she could hear a smirk in his voice, mixed with arrogance and entitlement she had heard so many times before.
“Right,” she repeated, already over it all. Why did she have to pick up that wallet? She was also fighting the urge to offer to bring it to him, her psychiatrist’s words bouncing around her mind. Stop people pleasing, was his main rhetoric, so Amelia decided to listen to his discombobulated voice.
“What’s your name?” he asked, although it almost sounded like an order, a demand.
“Am-, Anna,” she swallowed quickly, cursing herself the whole time.
She could hear a quick exhale, a smirking exhale, and again felt the eyes on her. She turned around, towards the only window, her eyes meeting the blinds. Slowly, she checked the garden, almost as if to make sure this guy wasn’t menacingly standing in the middle of it.
“Would you awfully mind bringing it to me tomorrow?” he finally yielded. “I usually take lunch at Seta Nera.”
Amelia swallowed. Seta Nera was exactly the restaurant he would frequent. Posh, fancy, and vastly overpriced, an exact choice for a VP of banking like him, or whatever said on his business card.
“What time?” Amelia tried to sound polite, nice, but felt like her temperamental and a little judgmental attitude spilt over just a smidge.
“Would one o’clock work for you?”
“One o’clock, Seta Nera,” Amelia nodded as she repeated the words back to him.
“See you then, Anna,” he sounded almost breathless, and Amelia didn't want to know what she was interrupting. “Good night.”
She hadn’t had a chance to respond before he hung up.
Amelia checked his ID again. Marcus. The name suited him, old and strong, aristocratic, Amelia thought, scrambling to put a nice outfit together.
A black silk shirt with a long wool skirt should be fine. Shoes, what about the shoes? She mostly had sneakers and one pair of rain boots, but she was sure she packed those ankle boots she got the last time in Vienna. Perfect. The colours might clash a little, black, grey, and leather brown, but she was more worried about the make-up; usually she was too tired in the morning to put anything on, but she really wanted to look put together. To impress.
Setting the alarm clock for an hour earlier than usual, she finally had some time to think. Trying to impress whom? A possibly creepy stalker who managed to orchestrate her coming to him?
Tomorrow, I’ll be stern, she said to herself. Tomorrow, I’ll be quiet. Tomorrow, I ask questions. Tomorrow.
If you like my writing, all interactions are greatly appreciated-`♡´-
Summary: Moving for her studies, Amelia is trying to navigate her new life, which becomes incredibly complicated after a chance meeting with a mysterious stranger.
Word count: 1.4k
Warnings: 18+ and smut (evenutally), minors and ageless do not interact, fantasy, vampires, witches, supernatural, slow burn, mutual pining, slow start, no beta
Amelia stilled.
His eyes were a deep brown colour, almost indistinguishable from his pupils. Amelia’s eyes followed the gold signet ring on his pinky and then trailed back to his eyes. He was also pretending to only listen to his colleague, and Amelia wondered how she hadn’t noticed him earlier.
All day, Amelia couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
It was that nagging feeling existing somewhere between intuition and anxiety, and no words of self-encouragement could appease it. She almost texted her psychiatrist, but instead decided to put on her big-girl pants and delude herself as she absently nodded in response to her friend.
It’s just stress, she kept repeating in her head like a sad little mantra, stress of moving, stress of grad school, stress of studying and working, stress of stress. She rubbed her temples.
“Are you alright?” Mia, her new friend, asked, blowing on her ramen. Maybe friend was too strong a word, but Amelia felt like one day, they could very well be best friends.
”Yes, yes,” Amelia muttered in response, barely trying to be louder than the rest of the restaurant guests. “I haven’t slept well.”
”Me neither, I was up late revising for that seminar on molecular genetics,” Mia rolled her eyes, sharing Amelia’s feelings and opinions on their professor and her questionable teaching methods.
“Given how much we are paying for the privilege to study here, you’d expect something… more.”
Amelia flashed a shy, agreeable smile, watching Mia navigate her long, luscious hair in a tight bun, while adding even more chilli flakes to her ramen. The gnawing feeling was still there.
Mia trailed off on another monologue about how disappointed she was with England; Amelia’s eyes wandered around. Luckily, Mia was already used to it.
Between nodding and agreeing, Amelia herself wasn’t sure who she was looking for, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of being observed, almost like a specimen, a worm with spilt guts under a microscope.
Looking around, she momentarily fixed her gaze on the rainy street outside, wondering if she would ever be able to recreate the taste of this particular ramen at home, in her little shared kitchen, with only a handful of spices her and her roommates pooled together.
“I am sick of listening about transgenic animals,” Mia proclaimed with a dramatic sigh, segueing into another monologue. Amelia was grateful, as she couldn’t put a sentence together today without sounding like she was suffering from a stroke.
Maybe coming here was too much; maybe she should have gone to Germany. What if her health fails her again?
Amelia’s gaze wandered again, from plate to plate and face to face, until it finally met the eyes staring back at her.
Amelia stilled.
His eyes were a deep brown colour, almost indistinguishable from his pupils. Amelia’s eyes followed the gold signet ring on his pinky and then trailed back to his eyes. He was also pretending to only listen to his colleague, and Amelia wondered how she hadn’t noticed him earlier.
With his perfectly tailored three-piece suit, he was vastly overdressed, better suited to an exclusive club that would serve centuries-old wine than to a Japanese restaurant occasionally frequented by grad students. His head was illuminated in such a way that it seemed to Amelia like he almost had a halo around him.
She wasn’t panicked or paranoid anymore, but unnaturally tranquil.
”Do you know that guy?” Mia asked, turning around to look at him, flashing him a big smile. Knowing Mia, she probably even winked at him.
“I am not sure,” Amelia whispered, her eyes still fixated on his face, trying to desperately place both him and the feeling.
He averted his gaze, but not before his lips gave away a little curl that threatened to develop into a smirk. A condescending one, Amelia thought.
After making sure that Mia entered her building, Amelia decided to take a stroll back to her apartment. The rain just stopped, and it wasn’t too dark - she quickly checked her phone to make sure she was on the right path, and then let her thoughts wander.
She wondered who that man from the restaurant was, and more importantly, if he really was following her around the whole day. Surely not, she told herself, almost chuckling. Her eyes roamed from house to house, taking in the neighbourhood, until her attention was stolen away by a small black square on the sidewalk.
Amelia looked around, although she was the only person out on the street, before picking up the wallet and cautiously continuing, hoping she wasn’t just naively becoming a victim of an elaborate scam. Turning the corner, she opened the wallet.
”You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she whispered to herself. Him again. His face was staring back at her with the same intensity as its real counterpart
Bank cards, credit cards, and business cards. Bingo. Although the business card listed a London address, she knew this particular bank also operated here in Cambridge. She smiled to herself for guessing his profession, but only for a split second, as she looked behind her, that gnawing feeling at her heels again.
Amelia’s heart was beating like crazy, so loud she could hear it in her ears. It was all too neat, too orchestrated, and as the night spread its long fingers around her, Amelia decided just to walk straight home.
First thing after locking her doors behind her, she took photos of both his business card and the ID. Better safe than sorry. Then, she nervously called the number on the card. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four…
“Yes?” his voice was deep and just a little raspy.
Amelia felt that anxious knot in her stomach, tiny drops of sweat collecting behind her ears.
“Hi, I found your wallet,” despite literally just rehearsing, her voice still stuttered. She bit her lip in embarrassment.
”Right,” he said lazily. “I was just about to cancel my cards.”
Amelia could swear she could hear a smirk in his voice, mixed with arrogance and entitlement she had heard so many times before.
“Right,” she repeated, already over it all. Why did she have to pick up that wallet? She was also fighting the urge to offer to bring it to him, her psychiatrist’s words bouncing around her mind. Stop people pleasing, was his main rhetoric, so Amelia decided to listen to his discombobulated voice.
“What’s your name?” he asked, although it almost sounded like an order, a demand.
“Am-, Anna,” she swallowed quickly, cursing herself the whole time.
She could hear a quick exhale, a smirking exhale, and again felt the eyes on her. She turned around, towards the only window, her eyes meeting the blinds. Slowly, she checked the garden, almost as if to make sure this guy wasn’t menacingly standing in the middle of it.
“Would you awfully mind bringing it to me tomorrow?” he finally yielded. “I usually take lunch at Seta Nera.”
Amelia swallowed. Seta Nera was exactly the restaurant he would frequent. Posh, fancy, and vastly overpriced, an exact choice for a VP of banking like him, or whatever said on his business card.
“What time?” Amelia tried to sound polite, nice, but felt like her temperamental and a little judgmental attitude spilt over just a smidge.
“Would one o’clock work for you?”
“One o’clock, Seta Nera,” Amelia nodded as she repeated the words back to him.
“See you then, Anna,” he sounded almost breathless, and Amelia didn't want to know what she was interrupting. “Good night.”
She hadn’t had a chance to respond before he hung up.
Amelia checked his ID again. Marcus. The name suited him, old and strong, aristocratic, Amelia thought, scrambling to put a nice outfit together.
A black silk shirt with a long wool skirt should be fine. Shoes, what about the shoes? She mostly had sneakers and one pair of rain boots, but she was sure she packed those ankle boots she got the last time in Vienna. Perfect. The colours might clash a little, black, grey, and leather brown, but she was more worried about the make-up; usually she was too tired in the morning to put anything on, but she really wanted to look put together. To impress.
Setting the alarm clock for an hour earlier than usual, she finally had some time to think. Trying to impress whom? A possibly creepy stalker who managed to orchestrate her coming to him?
Tomorrow, I’ll be stern, she said to herself. Tomorrow, I’ll be quiet. Tomorrow, I ask questions. Tomorrow.
If you like my writing, all interactions are greatly appreciated-`♡´-
I've always wanted to be this sort of girlie (geneder neutral) who knows how to take these photos featuring books, but I read so many different generes, and because I move all the time, I own so little physical books (for now). One day! 💖💖💖
