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The sun made a slow descent over Lisbon, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets and coating the city in shades of gold and amber. For Colin Bridgerton, a travel journalist who had more stamps in his passport than he could count, this was his element. His job, if one could call it that, was to capture the essence of every place he visited, in word and image. Today, Lisbon was his muse, and he would do it justice.
He had spotted the Elevador de Santa Justa earlier in the day. The wrought iron building in neo-Gothic style stood out against the clear blue sky. The ideal image for his next post; the history and beauty would speak volumes to his followers. He posed at just the right angle, camera at the ready, waiting for that right light.
As Colin framed the shot, a blur of motion crossed his lens. He lowered the camera, expecting to find some careless tourist, oblivious to the scene they'd wandered into. Instead, he found her – a woman with vibrant red hair that stood out starkly against the dark ironwork of the lift. She wasn't just passing by; she was fully immersed in the landmark, eyeing it with an intensity to rival his own.
"Excuse me" he called out, walking towards her with his camera still clutched in his hand.
The woman turned to face him, and her gaze – a striking shade of blue – widened with surprise. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said quickly. "Was I in your way? I didn't see you there."
Colin could have brushed it off, taken another shot once she moved on, but there was something about her – about the way she'd looked at the Elevador like it was a piece of art rather than just a tourist attraction. "No harm done," he replied with a small smile. "Actually, I think you might have improved the shot."
She blinked, clearly not expecting that. "Really?”
"Really," he confirmed, holding out his camera so she could see the photo. Her figure was perfectly positioned in front of the lift, and her bright hair set off very nicely against the dark, intricate ironwork. Her expression, which was that of a thinking, unposed person, lent the picture something different that made it feel less like a travel photo and more like a captured moment.
Her cheeks flushed, and she let out a nervous laugh. "I usually try to stay out of photos, not get in the middle of them."
"You might want to reconsider," Colin said, his tone light but sincere.
She angled her head slightly, studying him now, as if to try and determine if he was teasing or not. "Penelope Featherington," she introduced herself, offering her hand. "And you're very kind, though I'm fairly sure the view was better without me in it."
"Colin Bridgerton," he replied, shaking her hand. Her grip was firm, and her skin was warm against his. "And I'm fairly sure you're wrong."
Penelope smiled at that, and for the moment, the city's noise just sort of faded away. "Are you a photographer, then?" she asked, nodding towards his camera.
"Travel journalist," he explained. "The photos are just part of the job."
"Must be nice," she said, and there was a hint of something wistful in her voice. "Getting to see the world, meet new people. It sounds like a dream."
"It has its moments," he agreed, though he didn't miss the underlying note in her words. "What about you? What brings you to Lisbon?"
"A break from reality," she admitted with a shrug. "I'm an editor, so most of my time's spent indoors, reading manuscripts, and dealing with deadlines. I love it, but it can be a bit… intense."
"Sounds like you needed the escape," Colin said, watching her shoulders seem to relax while speaking, as though being there, away from her life, was already doing its magic.
"More than I thought," she said softly, almost to herself. Then, as if catching herself, she added, "And you? Is this work, or are you just here for the scenery?"
"A bit of both," Colin admitted. "Lisbon's been on my list for some time. I'm here to write a piece on it, but to be honest, I've been enjoying just wandering around."
Penelope looked all around them at the streets that twisted and turned into a maze. "It is beautiful," she said, her voice full of appreciation. "I’ve only been here a couple of days, but there’s something about it… I don't know."
He tipped his head in understanding. "It has a way of getting under your skin," he agreed. Then, almost on impulse, he added, "If you're free tomorrow, I could show you some places you might not have seen yet. The kind of spots that don't make it into the guidebooks."
She frowned, and for a moment he wondered if she would say no. But then she did smile, a full, real smile that touched her eyes and lit them up. "I'd like that," she said simply.
Colin felt a small surge of satisfaction. "Great. How about we meet here, say, nine o'clock?"
"Sounds perfect," Penelope agreed, her voice steady even as she felt the flutter of something unfamiliar in her chest.
They bid each other goodnight, and as she turned to walk away, Penelope couldn't help but glance back at Colin, catching him doing the same. He grinned – a lopsided, boyish grin that did funny things to her heartbeat. She returned the smile, her mind already spinning with possibilities, not just for tomorrow, but for what this meeting could mean.
Colin watched her go; a part of him was tempted to follow, but he held back. There was no hurry. Tomorrow was another day, another chance. But for now, he couldn't help feeling that Lisbon had already given him something far more interesting than just a photograph – a possibility that felt more real, more palpable, than anything he had experienced in a long time.
And as he stood there, camera in hand, the city around him buzzing with life, Colin Bridgerton realised that, for the first time in a while, he was genuinely looking forward to what came next.