So I begin to tell Oliver. He sits down with me in a booth, and I tell him.
I don't know why. I've known this boy for less than an hour and already I've decided to confide in him. For all I know, he could be mad. Or horrible. Or have a girlfriend.
Oliver orders a drink for himself, and asks if I want one. I kindly say I'm fine, but he insists, and I end up with a hot chocolate.
"You know I don't have any money with me." I say, when he orders. Oliver stares at me like I'm crazy.
"I'm not going to make you pay for your own drink!" He laughs, and hands the money over the counter. I smile. There's something about this boy.
So, half an hour later, I've explained everything, right from Stephanie making it her mission to find me a boyfriend, up to sitting down with Oliver.
"He didn't even take the bottle with him, he just threw it in the bin!" I finish, and Oliver sighs, shaking his head sympathetically.
"That's the thing with relationships that another friend is involved in." He says. "They just never work out. You need to meet the person yourself. A forced relationship is never a good one, trust me." I smile, and realise that Oliver is kind of cute.
He isn't drop dead gorgeous, Hollister model attractive, but he is cute. He's tall, and kind of gangly, in an awkward sort of way. Dark brown tousled hair, dark brown eyes and massive hipster looking glasses. Pale skin, and soft lips, so soft I could just reach across the table and...
"Ella?" Oliver waves a hand in front of my face and I come back to reality.
"Sorry, what?" I ask, embarrassed.
"You went off in a daydream. I asked if you're from around here, because your accent is different." Oliver suddenly goes red. "Not bad different, good different. Really nice. Not really nice. I mean, it's cute. No, I just meant...it's different." He chews awkwardly on his bottom lip, and I laugh.
"Yeah, I'm from here. I've lived in London for two years, but for the rest of my life I was brought up in Dublin in Ireland, so I've managed to hold onto the accent." Oliver nods, and I smile.
This boy is so easy to talk to. I think.
"So why'd you move?" Oliver asks, and I shrug.
"Dad's work got changed, and he got a promotion, but could only take it over here. It's a permanent move though." Oliver looks happy, and I wonder why.
We sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, finishing our drinks.
"What are your dreams?" Oliver suddenly asks, and I look up, startled.
"What?" I ask, confused.
"What do you want to do when you're older? Where do you want to be?" Oliver suddenly goes red again. "That sounds stupid, forget I said that." I shake my head.
"No, it's a good question." I laugh. "Um...honestly, I want to be a writer, or a journalist. Although London is amazing, I want to travel the world. America, Australia, Russia, Italy...maybe even back to Dublin. What about you?" Oliver looks soulful for a moment.
"Photographer. Definitely travel. I want to go everywhere, see everything, get photos and memories." I smile. "Hey, we could be a magazine! I could take the photos, you could write about our adventures around the world!" Oliver says jokingly, and I smile.
"Sounds like a plan. Of course, we'd have to travel together." I say, laughing. Oliver stares at me.
"I don't have a problem with that."