Chapter 13
“You didn’t,” Aadhya says. She’s wearing the same excited expression as her friend Tamsin, sitting side by side in the upscale bar in Mayfair.
I nod. “Oh, I certainly did. Dropped the towel and everything.”
Tamsin covers her face with her hands, while Aadhya leans back. Her mouth is shaped like an O. “That’s mortifying.”
“Thanks!” I say, but I’m giggling. “I know. His face was horrified, you should have seen it.”
“Okay, I bet it wasn’t actually horrified,”Tamsin says.
“No, it was. Legitimately.” I shrug, feeling warm and happy from the glasses of wine we’ve shared. I’m so glad I asked Aadhya to come out for a drink after work tonight. And through her, I’ve now met her flatmate, Tamsin, an upbeat girl studying fashion design in the city.
The bar is vibrant, the area is buzzing, and I feel like the energy has seeped beneath my skin. This is why I moved. This is what I want.
New experiences. New people. A new chance.
“No bloke has ever been horrified at seeing a fit girl nude,” Aadhya says. She’s wearing a tiny glittery cardigan and waist-high pants. Her long, black hair is in a side braid. She’s fierce, as always. “And you’re positive he doesn’t fancy you?”
I shake my head. “No, no, it’s not like that between us.”
“Right,” Tamsin says. “He just offered you to stay in his house.”
“It’s what friends do,” I say. They don’t know that my new roommate is… well, Nate. Aadhya knows him as a gallery patron. The last thing I want is for her to realize that he and I are friends and not “the client and the art dealer.”
But I also didn’t want to lie when they asked me where I’m living. So I fudged the truth a little.
My roommate is now an unnamed old friend from New York.
“Look, I love you,” Aadhya tells her flatmate, “but if you moved in without paying rent, I’d be like… Mate,come on.”
“Me, too,” Tamsin says. But then her face turns thoughtful. “Is he gay?”
I shake my head. “No. Just not interested in me that way. Well… I don’t think he’s gay. I’ve heard plenty about him and women before, so he might be bi, I suppose.”
“Hmm,” Aadhya hums. “Is he fit? You didn’t drop your towel on purpose, did you?”
“No! He surprised me.”
“Right. Because that’s a classic trick. Give them a peek at what they’re missing,” she says and waggles her eyebrows.
“Tried that often, have you?” I ask.
Tamsin gives a dramatic sigh. “She does it every morning. You’re hot, but it’s getting tiring staring at your perfect tits and arse each day, Aads.”
We all laugh. The girls are easy to talk to, far easier than the first time I met Aadhya and thought her intimidation itself. She is, in some ways. Fierce and cool but also entirely human, the way we all are, and I’m glad we’re becoming friends.
We finish our drinks by midnight and head out. My Tube stop is in the opposite direction from theirs, so I wave goodbye to Tamsin and Aadhya outside the bar when they leave.
I dig through my bag for my headphones, my fingers brushing past my wallet and a package of gum… but there’s a conspicuous absence of jingling.
My keys.
Searching the depths of my purse reveals what I already know. Shit. I forgot them in my work bag at the gallery before we left for the bar. I’d brought the clutch for this specific purpose and only thrown in the most important things for my night out. Wallet. Headphones. Gum.
But no keys.
I start walking to my Tube stop, but my steps are slow. How long will Nate be out tonight?
My fingers move over the phone before I think better of it. Finding his name, I press call. I’m right next to a rowdy pub, across from the movie theater and a Michelin-star restaurant.
I love this city and its dualities.
“Harper,” Nate says. His voice is businesslike. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just wanted to know… are you home?”
There’s a slight pause before he replies. “No. Why?”
“I think I forgot my keys.”
“You think?”
“Well, I know. Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. When are you gonna be home? Or if you’re not planning on coming home at all, that’s fine, too. I don’t want to stop you from… from… having fun or seeing where the night takes you.”
“Harper,” he says. There’s amusement in his voice, and I like hearing it. Like his deep drawl. “I’m wrapping up now. The concert just ended.”
“Oh, that’s perfect.”
“Where are you?”
“Mayfair. Outside… The Black Swan.”
“That’s the name of every pub.”
“No,” I say. “Some are also called The White Horse, or The King’s Head, or The Queen’s Head, or sometimes The Red Lion.”
He chuckles. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Of course I have. Haven’t you?”
“I might have had a sip or two”
Someone shouts beside me, and a group of men laugh. I take a few steps away from the noise of the pub.
“Where are you?” Nate asks again.
“I told you. By The Black Swan.”
“I don’t know every pub in London,” he replies, “despite living here for two years. A shocker, I know.”
“No worries. I’ll just head home, and we’ll?—”
“I’ll come find you. We’ll go home together,” he says. “Send me your location.”
“Okay, sure. If you’re happy with that?”
“Yeah, I’m close by. Are you somewhere safe?”
That makes me laugh. “Nate, I’m in central London, on a Friday night. There are people everywhere.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“I’m fine. Perfectly fine. I might even enjoy a pint here while I’m waiting. I learned about the perfect amount of head tonight.”
Silence takes over the line. A heartbeat passes. Another. “What?” he finally asks in an incredulous voice.
“Head! It’s the foam part on top of the beer. Honestly, Nate, haven’t you learned anything British in these two years?”
“Why don’t you enlighten me when I—” Someone interrupts him in the background, a feminine voice, but I can’t make out words. “Sorry about that,” he says once he’s back. “I’m leaving the concert hall now, walking over to you.”
“Sounds good. Pip pip!” I say.
“You’re crazy,” he says. But then he mutters “cheerio” under his breath and hangs up the phone.
I lean against the brick wall with a smile on my face. The people-watching is excellent. Those coming in and out of the movie theater are so different from the ones exiting the prestigious restaurant next door, and the atmosphere is buzzing with energy. It’s Friday night and the start of a brand-new weekend. Full of possibilities and options.
By the time Nate arrives, strolling up the street in a tuxedo, I know what I want to do.
And it doesn’t involve going home.
He glares at the unruly guys outside the pub with a disapproving frown, as if they’d done more than just be loud a few feet away from where I’m standing. But when he reaches me, his mouth tips into a crooked smile.
“Forgot your keys, did you?”
“Yes. At work. I won’t be able to get them back until Monday.”
“That’s fine, you won’t need them over the weekend. I have spares.” He looks around the street. “Had a good night?”
“Yes, it was great. I think I made a new friend.”
“You did?”
“Yes.” I tilt my head to the side, excitement pouring through me. “Tell me, are you in the mood to go home? Be honest.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Harper. Are you?”
I point to the marquee sign across the street. Midnight showing, it says, and beside it the name of the latest action-adventure movie.
“The movie started five minutes ago. I bet we can still get tickets.”
Nate looks at it for a long moment. His profile—the sharp cut of his jaw, his brown hair falling over a high forehead—stands out against the brightness of a nearby streetlight. I’ve never seen him in a tux before.
Only suits.
It makes him look distinguished. Different.
I wonder if he’s been to a movie in years. If he even goes to pubs, or diners, or walks placeslike he just did. When we go home later, will he take the Tube? I can’t imagine he would.
He looks back at me. “You want to go to a movie, Harper.”
There’s something in that sentence that feels heavier than it should. Something in his eyes…
But then he grins. “Let’s do it.”
Seven minutes later, we’re seated at the very back of the theater, a giant popcorn box between us, and sodas in our hands. The previews had already started, but no one seemed to mind when we made our way to our seats.
Nate sits beside me. I glance at him a few times until he asks what under his breath without looking away from the screen.
“You’re wearing a tux,” I whisper back, “in a movie theater.”
He reaches for the popcorn. “That’s what happens when you don’t give a man enough time to choose his outfit.”
I laugh into the back of my hand. It’s a quarter after midnight, I don’t have keys on me, and I’m watching a movie in a foreign city.
And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s not something I would have done six months ago. Not something Dean would have ever thought was a good idea. And over the months, then years with him, those thoughts seeped into me. Became my own.
Even though they never really were.
Nate eats more popcorn than I would have expected. When I reach in for another handful, right when the hero on screen is jumping out of an airplane, Nate’s hand brushes mine.
We both pull back.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. Tilts the bucket toward me. “Ladies first.”
I reach in, and he murmurs something close to my ear. I can barely make it out. “I can’t remember when I was at the movies last,” he repeats.
That makes me smile. “Maybe you should go more often,” I whisper back.
I curl up, tucking my legs under me. I rarely sit in the back row. It’s surprisingly nice up here, and private, with the seats on either side of us empty.
I glance down at Nate’s hand a few times. It rests on the armrest between us, palm curved over the edge. No ring on his left ring finger. Only a wrist watch, peeking out beneath the sleeve of his jacket.
He has nice hands.
Broad across the backs. Long fingers. Blunt nails.
When the movie ends, we walk out of the theater along with the two dozen other people who showed up for the midnight showing. I yawn but stifle it quickly.
Nate catches it anyway. “I hope you’re not tired.”
“I’m not. Well, a little. But it’s worth it. I’ve never gone to a midnight movie before.” I nudge him. “Have you?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “No.”
“So, when was the last time you were in a movie theater? Let’s get numbers on this.”
He lifts both eyebrows. “You want to embarrass me.”
I nudge him again. “Answer the question, Connovan.”
“Probably… five years ago. I do go to the movies. Just not very often.”
“Once every five years.”
He tweaks my nose. It’s so surprising that I blink at him. “Yes, wiseass, once every five years. Now come on. I have an idea.”
“We’re not going home?”
He holds up the building door for me. The streets of Mayfair are calmer than before, but by no means quiet.
The early May weather is warm, and despite the lateness of the hour, I don’t feel cold. Not as I watch Nate walk out backward onto the sidewalk.
“What do you have planned?” I ask.
A crooked smile spreads across his face, making his eyes crinkle. “What’s item number twelve on your list?”
It takes me a moment, but only one, before I realize what he’s asking. The same energy from earlier, of possibility and excitement, spreads through my limbs.
“Stay out all night.”