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bloody americans

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There was an American in her garden.

A blonde, gorgeous, smiling American; but an American nonetheless. If Jamie had one rule, it was no Americans before 9am.

"Couldn't kill these yanks to wait five minutes before trespassing?"

It was October, and although the sun was peeking over the clouds, casting its rays lovingly over Jamie's flowers, it was still cold as all hell. As American's often are, this woman was clearly unhinged, since she was peering at the Hydrangea's in a simple t-shirt, leaving her bare arms exposed to the elements.

"God, alright, better stick the kettle on."

While the kettle boiled on the stove, Jamie perched herself on the countertop, pleasantly observing her sneaky American taking in her magnificent slice of heaven. She held herself like an American - shoulders back, posture stiff - and wore a pair of delightful sunglasses high on her head, unlike any self-respecting Brit would. She was clearly in awe which quietly assuaged Jamie's fears of being murdered and also filled her with a sharp sense of pride. Sure, an American had broken into her garden, but she wasn't going to call the police over someone who was gazing at her Bergenias like they were sacred. It was endearing, in a strange way - or it would be in two minutes, when she had the willpower to deal with an American.

The kettle whistled it's warning tune and Jamie went through the motions of preparing two cups of tea. The proper British way, of course. At this moment, her back was turned on the American, blissfully unaware of the gentle hands slowly reaching out to cup her precious New Dawn Roses. Of course, all good things must come to an end; apparently it wasn't enough to simply wander into a strangers garden and ogle at their flowers, the bloody American had to go and put her little American hands all over Jamie's prize Roses.

Jamie imagined it was quite a sight - her standing with gritted teeth, two steaming brews in her hands, glaring at an American trespasser through her kitchen window.

"Fuck me."

Jamie checked her watch. 9am sharp. Thank the Lord.

She opened her back door with her foot, angry in a way that only made her movements more precise. She was not going to spill this bloody tea.

"Fancy a cup of tea, love?"

The wayward American jerked back so forcefully she almost took the head of the Rose with her. Jamie nearly burst a blood vessel.

"Woah, hey, hey - careful, careful, those are special."

Hunched over, gasping like a trauma victim lacking the brown bag, the American looked mortified.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I just - I thought. Oh gosh, I just waltzed in here, huh. Wow, what is wrong with me?"

"I bloody knew you were an American." Jamie was ten for ten this month.

"Oh, well, yes." The American replied, looking rather puzzled that she wasn't being threatened with a shotgun or something else equally life threatening.

Jamie stood a little awkwardly, wishing she could put her hands on her hips in an effort to look more imposing. It didn't help that she was still wearing her pajamas.

"What brings you to my garden this fine morning? I only ask because, well, you're bloody trespassing."

"Oh, I just, well I - I saw your beautiful flowers and well, the gate was open and, to be honest with you I didn't even realise it was attached to a house."

Bloody hell. The American looked like a deer caught in headlights, all doe eyes and fear. Jamie’s anger dissipated at the sight - a little bit in love - but she exaggerated an eye roll for dramatic effect anyway.

"Christ. I should really start locking my gate. Or it needs to stop blowing open in the night. Might start getting axe murderers and lake demons next. Although they might have the mind not to touch my flowers, being preoccupied with killing and such."

The American winced. Jamie swooned, deflating.

"Next time maybe just knock, yeah? And let me do the touching."

Shock replaced fear on her American’s face.

"Next time?"

"If you ever feel the need to look at pretty flowers, yeah, I'd be willing to open up. As long as you swear to keep your filthy paws off the Roses."

Jamie was failing miserably at biting back a smile, American trespasser be damned.

"Sure, yeah, next time," there were the beginnings of a shy smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, "I'll keep my hands to myself. Scouts honor."

"Just make sure it's after 9am will you - can't be doing the stress of it."

"The stress of what?"

"Bloody Americans is what."

The fledgling smile bloomed into a grin on the American's mouth.

"You learn to get used to it."

"I wouldn't hold your breath."

Jamie would have stood there forever, grinning like a fool, if it weren't for the ache in her arms from holding up the tea for so long.

She raised the left cup in the American's direction with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Are you going to take me up on my generosity or not? It's bloody freezing out here."

"Is it customary in England to offer cups of tea to people who break into their gardens?"

"Of course not, especially not to Americans. I'm an exception."

The American took the tea out of Jamie's hand bashfully, gripping it like a saving grace with two soft hands.

"I'm Dani," She murmed over the top of the cup, pressed to her lips.

"Come on then, Dani. Let's get you out of the cold and out of my garden before you cause any damage."

Jamie smiled ruefully. She was done for.