Chapter 2
2
Nathan
It’s New Year’s Eve tonight, and I’m wearing a leather jacket as a nod to the Grease theme. That’s the height of my commitment to the costume. I don’t really do over-the-top. But I do appreciate a good vibe.
I park my motorbike and walk in, taking my time as I look around. The whole place looks incredible. Twinkly lights hanging from the high industrial ceilings, big open spaces filling up with people, music pulsing just loud enough to make the air hum. It’s got that perfect mix of excitement and ease, like the kind of night where anything could happen.
Jerome spots me and walks over, grin wide.
“Eyyy, Irish! What’s up, my man?” He grabs my hand and claps me on the back.
“Hey, bro. You good?” I pull back with a smile.
“You know, the usual. Just scanning the room to see if I’ll be blessed with a wifey soon.”
I laugh—typical Jerome banter. Jerome is one of those people who is filled with a joy for life. He’s always the first one you’ll find on the dance floor. He brings the party with him wherever he goes.
“It’s New Year’s Eve. Anything could happen,” I say.
“Exactly. Let’s hit the photo booth. You know the girls love it,” he winks and nudges me toward the corner.
We make our way over to the photo booth, bumping into some of our friends.
The night’s just getting started. I’ve got a solid group here now, but that wasn’t always the case. When I first moved to London from Belfast a couple of years ago, this church felt… big. Too big, really. The kind of place where you could show up every Sunday and never have a real conversation.
That changed the night I went to my first connect group. It was held at someone’s house, and as we chatted, I found out it was one of the girls’ birthdays the following week, on the exact same day as mine. They invited me to her birthday party, and when I showed up, they brought out a cake for her... and one for me too. It was such a simple gesture, but when you’re new to a city where no one really knows you yet, it means everything. That night, being celebrated by people who had only just met me made something click. It felt like family . And in that moment, I decided to stay.
And I’m glad I did.
Now, I’m here, surrounded by friends, half-listening to whatever joke’s being told. We’re making our way over to the bar. But my attention keeps drifting toward the crowd. Not just because of the party. There’s someone I’m hoping to spot.
I haven’t met her yet, but I saw her in that video on the church WhatsApp group. The one where she introduced herself after winning the ticket competition. American accent, big energy, and a smile that looked like it could light up the whole room. She had this contagious kind of confidence, and yeah, I noticed the way she looked, too. Beautiful, no question. Her lips are full and pink. Her long, dark hair suits her so well. Her eyes—I can’t tell what color they are yet, but I can tell they’ll speak their own language. Her cheeks are always coming to life under that smile. But it was more than her beauty. There was something about her presence, even through a screen, that made me sit up and pay attention.
I’ve dated a few girls from church since moving to London. I’m always drawn to dark-haired girls. If they’re from a different country, even better. There’s something about people who leave home for an adventure. I get that mindset. I grew up in a small town outside Belfast, and I spent a lot of time praying for two things: my job and my wife.
The job part’s sorted for now. I’m a project manager for a marble company, which isn’t exactly my dream, but it opened the door to travel and adventure, and that’s enough for me at this stage of life. I like a bit of risk, a bit of movement. Sitting still never suited me. But I’m open to doing something else in the future if I find something that lights me up.
The wife part? Still working on that one. I’ve gone on dates here in London, sure, but nothing’s really clicked. There’s one girl, Dee, that I’ve been interested in. She’s Latina, and we’ve gone back and forth a bit. But she’s given me mixed signals, and I’m not the kind of guy who chases something that’s not moving naturally. I’m decisive. I’m holding out for something more. I know what I want, and when something’s right, you don’t have to keep guessing.
Which is part of the reason my attention keeps scanning the room. Because when I saw that video, my interest sparked. And when something sparks, I pay attention. Because she’s making me question why I have ever settled for anything less with anyone else.
Jerome leans against the bar, elbow propped, eyes scanning the crowd like he’s a casting director. Our friends have broken off into different conversations.
“Got a New Year’s resolution yet? Like maybe turning those big guns into massive Arnold Schwarzenegger guns?” he flexes a bicep with mock seriousness.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m not usually one for resolutions...” I trail off, distracted.
I’m mid-sentence when I spot her.
She’s dressed as Sandy. Black leggings, off-the-shoulder top, heels. Her long dark hair moves when she laughs. She’s got this permanent kind of smile, the kind of joy that’s obvious without her having to say a word. She gives whoever she’s talking to undivided attention. She looks like the kind of person who is all in. Just watching her makes my own mouth twitch up into a rare, easy smile.
Thankfully, Jerome doesn’t even notice my hesitation enough to ask me about it, as he’s busy looking around. “EYYY that’s my jam! Yo, Irish, let’s get on the dance floor!” Jerome slaps his hand on my back, moving me towards the dance floor.
I laugh. “I’m not sure the dance floor is ready for you.”
“I think it’s been waiting for me too long, bro!”
The night moves fast. There’s the music, the countdown energy, the endless catching up with people I haven’t seen in weeks. And every time I think I’ll head over and introduce myself, she’s already deep in conversation with someone else, and I’m not one to interrupt.
So the night slips away, and the chance never comes.
Two weeks later, I’m making my way out of the Dominion Theatre after our evening church service to All Bar One, motorbike jacket in my hand. I still haven’t met her.
But I’m not the type to dwell. If she’s someone I’m meant to know, the opportunity will come—and when it does, I’ll be ready.
I walk in and spot one of my friends, Katy, sitting at a table. Because the Dominion isn’t actually our church, but a fully functioning West End theatre, there’s nowhere inside to hang out after the service. So, like clockwork, a bunch of us (especially those of us in Velocity , the 25+ group) spill out into the streets of London, looking for somewhere warm to catch up. The January cold has definitely seeped in.
All Bar One is just around the corner—right off Oxford Street—and tonight, like most nights, it’s buzzing.
The place is already filling up with the post-service crowd. I toss my jacket over the back of a chair and slide into the seat across from Katy.
“Nathan! Perfect timing,” she says. “I wanted to go over our Belfast trip. But first…”
She pauses, her smirk already forming.
“Let’s backtrack and talk about that girl.”
I groan under my breath. I know exactly who she means.
Katy leans forward, eyes sparkling. “I caught you looking at her a few times at the party. You never did spill the tea. So, spill it now.”
“There’s really not much to say,” I reply with a shrug, keeping my tone as casual as possible.
Katy raises a brow. “Just because you’re not saying much doesn’t mean there’s not much to say.”
I grunt.
She laughs. She knows she’s right.
I haven’t been able to get that girl out of my head since New Year’s Eve. I don’t know much about her—barely anything, really. I don’t even know if she’s dating someone. Yet there’s something about her I can’t quite shake. Maybe it’s just curiosity. Maybe it’s something more. I know the way she lit up the room without even trying. The way she was always smiling—this big, open, genuine kind of smile that felt like an invitation.
“She just… intrigued me,” I admit, finally giving Katy something. “She gives off this vibe, like she’s easy to talk to. Outgoing. Just warm, you know?”
Katy’s smirk only deepens. “And what exactly are you planning to do about that?”
I hesitate, drumming my fingers against my glass. “I haven’t thought that far ahead,” I say, which is true because I just live life as it comes. “But I do know I won’t let the opportunity pass me by next time.”
And I mean it.
I don’t know what it is about her. Whether it’s the way she carries herself or that infectious energy… but there’s something. It’s enough to make me sit up and take notice. Enough to make me think that maybe this is one of those moments you don’t just let slip through your fingers.
While I may not know much about Nataly, that smile was constantly on her face—a contrast to any of the girls I’ve dated previously. The girls were nice, and everything was comfortable . But there was never anything that made me pause and think I would want to spend the rest of my life with them.
Apparently, that’s just because none of them were Nataly.
And I don’t even know her yet.
I’m not the type to overthink. I make decisions quickly, not impulsively—but with whatever information I’ve got in front of me. When the time’s right, I’ll pursue her with the same clarity I approach everything else in my life. And when I do, she won’t have to wonder where I stand.
But still, in the back of my mind, there’s this little flicker of anticipation. Because sooner or later, I know our paths will cross. And when they do, I’ll be ready.
“Glad to hear it. So since you don’t have much useful information for me on that end,” Katy interrupts my thoughts with a knowing grin, “let’s discuss our trip to Belfast because I cannot wait to see more of Ireland!”
I roll my eyes. She’s teasing me. She knows Belfast is in Northern Ireland, a completely different country. It’s like saying Canada is part of the USA. But apparently, a lot of people don’t know the difference. And honestly, I don’t blame them. The Troubles haven’t exactly been highly talked about outside of Northern Ireland for years. The Good Friday Agreement’s been in place for over 15 years, and things have been peaceful. The tourists are starting to trickle in. But being a native, I always have to set the record straight.
I’m heading home to Belfast for the weekend, bringing some of my London friends along. There’s nothing I love more than showing people my city. The good bits, the hidden spots. I’ve always believed home is something you share. And as much as I love adventure, there’s something about being back on familiar streets, around familiar people, that I enjoy.
“Alright, here’s what we’ll do…” I begin. We spend the next hour planning our trip, more friends joining us as the table fills up with laughter and conversation. And this—this family—is what I love most about our church. The way everyone’s so open, so welcoming. How easy it is to belong.
But even as I grab my helmet and coat, ready to hop on my motorbike and head home, there’s a part of my mind stuck on that first conversation with Katy.
I don’t know when I’ll see Nataly again. But I know this: if she’s someone I’m meant to know, I’ll get my chance.
When I do, I won’t let the moment slip by.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel it—something big is just around the corner.