“Then we have nothing to say here.” He made a move like he would head back to the bar, but I lunged forward catching his arm.
“Why won’t you tell me why you’re so angry? Why are you here with Renee?”
Our bodies were so close, the pain was excruciating. “I told you once before. She’s completely honest.”
“I’m completely honest!”
“Are you?”
“Oh my god!” I threw up my hands and paced in a circle. “This isn’t us! We don’t play games. We’ve never played games.”
He crossed his arms, and I couldn’t believe the coldness in his blue eyes. He looked so much like his father, my panic only intensified. “I seem to remember you playing lots of games.”
“Never with you. I love you.”
The tiniest spark of something flickered in his eye, but it was gone just as fast. “High school relationships rarely survive college.”
“Don’t you say that,” I snapped, that old pain back in my chest. “We were more than just a high school relationship, and you know it.”
With a deep breath, he uncrossed his arms and pushed his hands into his back pockets. The gray tee stretched across his chest, and I wanted nothing more but to bury my face in it, inhaling his scent of soap and the ocean. I needed him so badly.
“I don’t know.” His tone was still distant, aloof. “Maybe Renee was right. Maybe this was all just some little high school obsession of mine, wanting something I could never have. Until I did.”
My burning eyes met his, and he completely pulled away. I didn’t know what I could say to bring him back to me. I couldn’t speak, but he didn’t stop.
“Only I never really had you. Did I?”
“You had me. You know how much you had me.” My voice was weak and trembling, my whole body felt numb. Closing my eyes, I thought about how deep our love had been last year, the things he’d said to me. “What about tenth grade? What about math class and how I couldn’t look at you?”
Stepping forward, I caught his hand. “What about this?” I held it so that my dragonfly ring lined up with the little dragonfly tattoo on his hand. He stood and looked at it for several long moments, not speaking.
When he did speak, he broke my heart all over again. “Kid stuff.”
Instead of tears, though, I felt anger. I was furious at him now. “It is NOT kid stuff!” I pushed him back with both hands, but he caught my forearms and held them. I saw my anger reflected in his eyes, and I jerked them away, confused.
“Why are you so angry?” My voice was a broken whisper.
He turned away, but before he left, he repeated what he’d told me earlier. “Go to London, Anna. Do JYA.”
The desperation was back in my voice. “I am going to London—I already told them yes. But it doesn’t change anything. We won’t lose each other.”
“We’re already lost.”
He walked away from me then, and a weak little cry slipped from my aching throat. I couldn’t stop him. He was determined to walk away, and I knew him too well. I had to let him go right now.
Somehow, I managed to hold myself together. This was not the end. I wasn’t sure why he was doing this, why he was telling himself we were nothing more than a high school thing, but I would not let him give up on us.
I’d seen him angry before. I’d seen him angry with his mother, and I knew I had to wait. He wouldn’t let me in right now, but I hoped with everything inside me—with everything I believed in—that like his mother, he could see a time when he’d forgive me.
It was all I had, but I held onto it so hard. I had to believe it if I was ever going to get through the coming months. I just wished with everything in me he would tell me what had happened.
Either way, standing on the beach, with the waves crashing behind me, I made a vow. When I got back from London… when we were back here, we’d be together again.
Anna’s Private Blog: BBC Newswoman
London was amazing. I was technically enrolled at University College, and I lived in the Ian Baker student housing near Ramsey Hall, which was less than a half-mile from the main BBC offices. It took me less than ten minutes to walk to work past enormous brick apartments and glass-fronted businesses. Trees were planted in the stone sidewalks, and it reminded me vaguely of being in New Orleans, only without the music. And the heat.
Broadcasting was the fastest job I’d ever had. We started early in the morning, and the days were eaten up with chasing stories and doing research. Stories would start at the break of dawn or sometimes late the night before, and if we didn’t have them ready by show time, it was too late. Yesterday’s news. Over.
Personally, I had to catch up fast on world events and major European players, who were pretty much foreign to me. When I wasn’t reading the wire, I was monitoring other news outlets or honing my broadcast writing craft.
Part of my job as an intern was reading through the press releases and finding newsworthy events. It was the same thing I’d done at the paper in Fairview, so I was at least experienced in that task. What I hadn’t done before was write copy to be read on-air.
It wasn’t much different from news writing, except I had to take into account the narrative element of the process. I had to write sentences that could be read quickly and smoothly at a glance.
An unexpected benefit was time also passed incredibly fast. It was easy to get lost in the work, and I truly loved it. Liam Stockton was my boss, but I primarily checked in with his assistant Brandon Elliot. Brandon was a recent graduate, and as such, he was a great mentor for me. All my questions were fresh on his mind, because they were questions he’d had starting out as well.
So I lost myself in research and chasing the days’ stories, pushing my shredded insides to the deep background. My birthday came and went with calls and care packages from my parents and Gabi, but it was the first time in two years I didn’t receive a single yellow chrysanthemum. I killed that pain with a healthy shot of whether the Euro was losing ground in the west followed by a chaser of What in the World is Russia Up To?
Christmas holiday came and went, but I only visited home for a week. Even that was too long, considering Julian wasn’t there. I’d stopped trying to text him long ago, focusing instead on getting through this year, building my resume and finding my way back to him next summer.
That was the plan at least.
By spring, I felt like a regular part of the news staff. I wasn’t on the payroll, but that was the only thing keeping me from reading on-air. I did pretty much everything else in the office.
One of my last three Sundays before my internship ended, I was holed up at my computer, reading about Christine Lagarde, former head of the International Monetary Fund who BBC declared the “most powerful woman,” when Brandon interrupted me.
“Anna!” He barked.
I’d grown to love the British way of saying my name. It was like Ah-nah.
“What are you doing in here on a Sunday?” He stopped at the desk. “You’ve got to take a break or you’ll burn out. In all these months of busting your arse, have you even toured London?”
I blinked up at his brown eyes. He was dressed in navy slacks and a white tee with a dark brown cardigan over it. His wavy brown hair was parted on the side, and curled down around his ears.
“I, uh—no. I haven’t.” I looked back at the screen where a photograph of the stern-faced, white-haired female looked back at me. “I need to watch these. Lagarde is being suggested for a role in the EU, and I know nothing about her.”
“She’s from Normandy,” he said, leaning over and flicking off the video.
“Hey!” I tried to reach for it, but he caught my hand.
“Christine Lagarde takes Sundays off, and you must, too.” My eyes narrowed, but he smiled and continued. “You can’t spend a year in this country and not at least see Westminster.”
I slouched back in my chair. “You want to give me a tour of London?”
A dimpled smile broke across his f
ace, and for the first time I recognized Brandon was very cute. Not that my missing heart even cared.
“Yes,” he laughed, pulling me up. “Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, and if you’re very good, I’ll show you Geoffrey Chaucer’s gravesite.”
“Isn’t it in Westminster?”
“So you do know something about the city.” He winked at me then. I allowed him to pull me up and lead the way. “As much as you love British Lit, it would be a shame for you to end the year in a newsroom. Especially an old dodgy one like this.”
“I like our newsroom!” I cried as he pulled my hand into the crook of his arm.
“Good, because I’ve heard our newsroom fancies you, as well.”
I stopped walking, frozen on the spot. “What?”
He leaned toward my ear. “You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s talk of offering you a permanent position.”
Words escaped me, and when he turned back, he laughed again. “Your eyes are quite round, Miss Sanders. Yes, that’s the rumor. But you Americans work yourselves to death. Today, we’re going to have some fun.”
“Brandon, are you joking? Are they seriously going to make me an offer?” I was clutching his arm now, trying to slow my swirling thoughts.
“I think so. Liam has been very impressed with your work ethic, and Arati did nothing but sing your praises to him.”
“But I haven’t graduated. I don’t have a degree…”
“Minor points in this business.” He patted my hand. “Remember, it wasn’t so long ago that experience was the biggest qualifier. Most of these old codgers worked their way up from the mailroom.”
I stopped walking and pulled my hand out of his arm. “Then I really should stay and finish my research. I’m so behind on who everyone is and how they got started.”
Brandon exhaled and paced to where I stood. With exaggerated affect, he took my hand and pulled it back into the crook of his arm. “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. All of this will be waiting for you when we return.”
I considered for a moment fighting him, but the expression on his face changed my mind. “You’re really into this?”
“Yes. It will be fun. Have you ever heard of that word? It’s important for team-building if we’re to be potential coworkers.”
Shaking my head, I relaxed and followed him. “I never said I’d take the job.”
“That’s just what I expected you to say. Come on.”
Brandon and I spent the day running all over London. We started in Hyde Park because it was springtime, and he insisted the flowers there were better than anywhere else in the world. I had to laugh, but when we stepped off the double-decker bus at Speaker’s Corner, my breath literally caught. A sea of tulips spread out in front of us, in all shades of red, purple, yellow, white, and pink. We wandered to the Diana Memorial Fountain, and I noticed Albert Hall so we ran over to check it out. From there I saw Kensington Palace, but Brandon pulled me aside and said we could see these things from the Eye—the giant Ferris Wheel towering over the city. He wanted to go to the Abbey.
Westminster was even more gorgeous in real life than on television. The size of it was enough to steal your breath, and looking up at the gothic arches and enormous chapels made me feel very small in the face of history. We paid our admission, and for the first part, I was simply wandering around looking at it all with my mouth open, until Brandon leaned over and whispered in my ear.
“Hogwarts.”
My brow lined and I looked up at him. “They modeled Hogwarts after this part. That’s why it looks familiar.”
“All of it looks familiar,” I whispered back. “It’s on television every time something major happens.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because it feels very grand and sacred.” Then I pinched his arm. “Shut up.”
He showed me the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Chaucer’s grave, Poet’s Corner, and the bright green lawn outside the cloisters. We viewed ancient tombs of kings and queens that had statues with crowns and scepters on top of them. There were colorful tombs for some, and all were ornately decorated with plaques and long descriptions.
We spent almost an hour before we left, headed to Trafalgar Square, where the four enormous, bronze lions surrounded the statue of Lord Nelson. From there we went through the magnificent Admiralty Arch, a series of three arches opening onto The Mall, a wide, red-bricked lane that went all the way to Buckingham Palace. It was breathtaking with the golden statue and the royal guard. We were too late for the changing of the guard, which Brandon played off as basically a marching band performance, but even I knew better.
There was plenty more to see by the time we called it a day, but he promised to take me up in The Eye and let me get a good view of the rest. We finished at The Mayflower, a pub overlooking the Thames River, where he insisted I have the Scurvy, a bitter home brew. He also ordered a ploughman’s special, which was basically a meat and cheese plate with boiled eggs and a pickle, and the requisite fish and chips.
“Now you’ve seen our fair city. Or at least the high points.” He winked taking a sip of the amber drink. “What do you think?”
“I love it—of course, I love it. It’s an English major’s dream come true.” I tasted my own ale, and my nose wrinkled. “Except for the warm beer.”
“Don’t be so clichéd, Sanders. It grows on you.”
I looked down at the plate, and picked up a piece of the hard cheese. It was tangy with a hint of saltiness. “Thanks for doing this. I really did need to get out today.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome, although no thanks is necessary. I’m as much a fan of this city as the next tourist. Next time, we’ll catch a play in Covent Garden.”
“Next time?” I took a crisp bite of one of the pickles, the tangy sweet flavor filling my mouth.
“Sure, we can make it a regular date if you’d like.” He leaned back, evaluating the effect of that suggestion.
My bottom lip pulled between my teeth, and I looked down at the plates. “I’m sorry, Brandon. I didn’t mean to mislead you…”
“You have a fellow back home.” He leaned forward on the table and lifted his ale, taking another sip. “I should’ve figured as much the way you work.”
My hands were clasped in my lap, and I hated that this might be the end of the fun times we’d shared. “Putting my head down and working has been the best way to drown out the missing.”
“Well, he’s a lucky fellow. I’m not ashamed to say it.” He smiled and broke off a piece of bread. “I suppose that’s also why you’re not taking the job?”
“Don’t… put that out there.” Contradictory emotions warred in my chest. I wasn’t completely onboard with accepting a position here, at the same time, I didn’t want to lose my offer.
He leaned back then and arched an eyebrow. “Really. So you might be interested? Doesn’t bode well for boyfriend.”
“Julian,” I interrupted. “His name’s Julian, and I’d want to talk to him about it. If it happened.”
“Oh, it’s going to happen.” He gave me a little nod. “Count on it. And I’ll be watching to see how it plays out with this Julian chap.”
So will I, I thought, but I didn’t say that out loud. Instead I sipped my warm beer and finished my dinner.
JYA had turned out exactly as I’d hoped and feared it would, with the possible exception of the friendly guy sharing dinner with me.
Now I had to see how the story actually ended.
Hey all, Jules here breaking in again.
I’m basically saying this because I know Brandon so well… I’m a little in love with him right now. Dad’s being a git not telling Mum why he’s angry, and she’s being a flipping featherhead not remembering to tell him about the Labyrinth and Audubon Park and all these accidental run-ins with sodding Jack.
Still, it doesn’t make sense. None of this is adding up for me. How does Da know about it all? I can only guess that he does—why else would he be so mad?
S
o I’m suuuper frustrated right now. I don’t know if you are. I guess the only solution is to keep reading.
Cheerio, chaps, I guess we’re heading back in now.
Anna’s Private Blog: Rewriting History
Being home in Fairview felt both familiar and like culture shock after nine months in London. For starters, it took me a week to recover from the time difference, but most significantly, London was a big city—New York City big. Fairview was a small town—miniscule by comparison. I had to make the mental adjustment back to the slower pace, the change in amenities, driving instead of walking everywhere.
When I’d left for London, I’d been accustomed to New Orleans, which wasn’t quite as big but still a city. Back at home, everything felt strange to me.
As Brandon forewarned, Liam had called me into his office before I left and asked if I’d consider coming back to work full time with them. I didn’t say no, and he agreed to give me a few weeks to consider their offer. It was a great starting gig that even included me being in short videos for the website. I’d earn a good wage that would allow me to live in town… but I’d be worlds away from my family and from Julian. So in addition to all the other adjustments, that was hanging over my head.
“You’ve picked up a little accent.” Mom watched me with a grin as I made my breakfast. “I like how you say your –er words now.”
“Oh no.” I put my hand on my forehead. “Do I sound like a royal jerk?”
She laughed and hugged my shoulders. “I think it’s cute! Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll fade after a few weeks.”
I hopped up on the bar, sipping a mug of coffee. “Just so long as I don’t sound like one of those sodding gits with their dodgy fake accents.”
“What?!” She laughed, leaning on the bar beside me.
“I’m just teasing. I just don’t want to sound like a showoff.”
Mosaic (Dragonfly #4) Page 21
