Love Story | Rhyme & Ribbons

Happy Friday friends! I have just the treat to send you into the weekend - Amanda + Sam! They're quite the adorable ones. I feel like I've been waiting fooorever for today to get here to share their love story. I've read it so many times and I crack up every single time. After you get to know how they met, check out how sweet her blog is. If you're like me, you'll want every dress she owns.As you know, Annie and her husband are away traveling, and I was lucky enough to be asked to guest post with the parameters of a love story. I blog over at Rhyme & Ribbons, and I focus a lot of my blogging on the exciting things my partner Sam and I get to do together in London and around England. Having gone from dating to long-distance to being in the same country again, our story together has been quite complicated logistically, with terrible visa troubles to boot. I thought today I'd take you way back, to the fall of 2010, to the first day Sam and I met. And I even enlisted his help! 

Rhyme & Ribbons in the Photobooth

Amanda's POV:
I had only been at drama school for about a week, and to be honest, I didn't know what to make of it. It seemed to involve a lot less acting than I had imagined, and a lot more "getting to know you" activities, coupled with some seemingly unconnected field trip to the beautiful Hampton Court Palace.
I'd been in London for about two weeks by that point, and I was having fun, but I wasn't having the time of my life like study abroad is made out to seem. It was late August and it was already cold (I instantly knew that I hadn't packed warm enough clothing) and I don't think it had really stopped raining. We'd gone out a few times as a group but all the Brits we seem to have met were either a) rude or b) really, really sketchy. This may have something to do with the fact that we were hanging out at Prince Harry's ex-haunts, but that's beside the point.
Then one day I was sitting in the computer lab at school trying to focus on sending my mom an email update, when these Brit males kept sniggering and interrupting my train of thought. I gave up any hope of working and attempted to make conversation. Both were dressed like they wished they had wanted to go to highschool in America. Decked out in Abercrombie and Hollister with surfer dude, and East-coast prep vibes respectively. Great, I thought whilst rolling my eyes internally: English bros.
They were trying to be cooler-than-cool and entice us out of school, skipping class to go to the pub with them. Since I shot down that suggestion, the sweater and button down clad one insisted that he show me "a real pub". The conversation went on for a few more minutes, both of them refusing to leave besides classmates reminding them they had somewhere to go. It ended with the one who had most of his attention focused on me, sliding me a piece of paper (from the world's tiniest notebook?!" with his phone number on it.  And then he left, thankfully, because I couldn't control my laughter any longer.
I still have his tiny piece of paper. (I blurred out his phone number though, this is the internet.)Yes, I did accidentally spill coffee on it long ago. 
Sam's POV:
As the graduating year, we were called back to school a week earlier than everyone else so the place was pretty much deserted. Deserted that is apart from the S Course. The S Course is the semester course made up of mostly American, mostly female drama students on academic exchange from university. They're only there for a short time, but they never fail to make an impression.
I was with a friend doing some work in the computer room when they arrived. About six of them, all with trouble in their eyes. They surrounded us and started telling us some tales of late night west London clubs, of how they were searching for an excuse to cut class and spend the afternoon in the pub. They were calling out to us. They were dangerous.
My friend was being sucked in, taking the bait but my will was stronger. One of them stood out in particular: beautiful, confident, perhaps unnervingly friendly. She was talking to me. They were all talking to me. I had to get us out of there, my friend was already like putty in their hands.
I ripped off some paper from my pad, scribbled my number on it and slid it across to this southern-states-siren, anything to calm them and allow us chance to escape. All six of them fought for it, but she was the one who secured it.
We got out of there, just. But it was too late. We had fallen under their spell...
(This is all true. Ignore Amanda's recollection of events)