by Pamela Ann
We both laughed. I liked Lisa already, and was mildly amazed by her open, honest personality. She was as frank and forthcoming as I was, and I didn’t run into that often. It was a refreshing change from the lame, superficial answers you get out of most people.
“Fortunately,” she added, “I have a brother who is married with kids, so it’s not like I’m their only hope.”
We reached the café and fell silent for a while as we perused the menu. Everything sounded delicious, and judging by the size of the crowd and the delightful aromas that filled the place, it was.
“So what about you? What brings you to London?” Lisa asked when we were seated, waiting for our food.
“I’ve always wanted to live here. I’m still kind of in shock that it’s actually happening!” I admitted, shrugging. “I guess I’m your quintessential Anglophile. I love everything English: Jane Austen, Shakespeare, David Beckham…I had a ten-year love affair with a boy named Harry Potter, and My Fair Lady is my favorite film of all time. So I begged my dad to let me study here, and eventually I won him over.”
“Was that hard to do?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “He knows how much I’ve always wanted to live here, and I made a convincing, logically sound argument. My dad’s a lawyer,” I added. “I know it was hard for him to let me come, though.”
Lisa was watching me intently. “You miss him a lot.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “But he’s coming for Christmas, and we talk on the phone almost every day.”
Our food came then, breaking the mood. Both the food and my café mocha were divine, and I gushed over them. “Oh my gosh, I really think this might be the best sandwich I’ve ever had in my life. Lisa, thank you so much for showing me this place!”
Lisa smiled. “Gina, my dear, this is only the beginning. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Chapter Four
Georgina Wallace
London, catching the sunrise might be hard, but you look wonderful tonight. —with Ashley Worthington and Antony de Lucca at Westminster Pier
@ginawallace23
Start of term party! Time to wear my #littleblackdress #Londonatnight #autumn
Georgina64 listened to
Across the River Thames—Elton John
At the end of the third week of classes, we had our start of term party. It was held on a boat on the River Thames, although we remained docked. It was a perfect autumn evening, and the view was spectacular. If you looked to the left you could see Big Ben and Parliament; to the right, The Shard, Canary Wharf, and St. Paul’s Cathedral; and almost within reach, the London Eye. London is so beautiful at night, I thought blissfully, still not quite able to believe that I was actually living there.
“Isn’t this just an amazing party?” Ashley gushed, interrupting my reverie. I turned, smiling, to see her walking up with a smitten-looking Antony. I could see why: she was dressed to the nines, looking gorgeous in her designer Italian outfit, and she has this way about her that makes everyone sort of light up when she enters a room.
Tony acknowledged me with the double cheek kiss Europeans are known for, “Ciao, bella! Come stai?”
“Bene, sono stanca,” I replied, smiling.
“Wow, Georgina, I didn’t know you were Italian,” Ashley exclaimed, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“You know I’m American, Ash,” I answered, a hint of reproach in my tone. “I just took a course in college is all. That’s about the extent of my Italian conversational skills.”
We all chuckled a little at that, and then Tony offered to get us drinks.
“A lychee martini for me, please,” I said, “Thank you.” I glanced from Tony to Ashley, and then gestured vaguely around the boat. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to walk around a bit. Come find me?”
“Sure,” Tony answered, grinning stupidly at Ashley, who was busy waving to some people she knew across the boat. “Ashley, would you come help me carry the drinks?”
“Do I look like a waitress to you?” She protested, but followed him anyway.
I smiled and left them to their bickering. The music was a bit too loud for my liking, so I wandered until I found a quieter, more deserted part of the boat. London was indeed a beautiful city. Sure, I missed California, and especially my dad and Mel, but I had fallen in love with London too, and at that moment I would have happily stayed forever.
“Here you are,” Tony came up next to me, drinks in hand. “One lychee martini for the lady,” he bowed with exaggerated formality, extending a glass towards me.
I took it, inclining my head politely, playing along. “Thank you.” I peered around him, realizing he was alone. “What happened to Ashley?”
He frowned. “She’s talking to my housemate. The one I wanted you to meet.”
“The fellow American, right?” I asked.
“Yes. I think she likes him. But he is much more suited to you.”
“And I’m sure that has nothing at all to do with the fact that you like Ashley?” I teased.
He sighed, “It is that obvious?”
I nodded. “To me, but I don’t think to her.”
“I am usually so good around women, but she…she is different.”
I patted his arm sympathetically. “I think she’ll come around.”
“Really?” He asked, brightening a little.
“Really,” I confirmed, in a voice more confident than I actually was.
“So what are you doing over here all alone?” Tony asked.
“It’s so loud over there. I like to be able to hear myself think.”
He nodded in understanding. “Yes, I can see that.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“No,” he answered, a bit too quickly. I eyed him questioningly. “It’s one thing to know she’s flirting with my roommate,” he admitted, and even in the dim light I could see that he was blushing. “It’s another to stand by and watch it like some pitiful, lovesick fool.”
I laughed softly and nodded. “Hey, staying here is just fine by me.” I gestured widely at the cityscape surrounding us. “We’ve got the best view in the house.”
Tony grinned and held up his glass. “To London.”
“To London,” I echoed, clinking glasses with him before taking a sip. The martini was delicious, just the right amount of kick balanced by the sweetness of the lychee juice.
When Ashley eventually found us, I was surprised to see her alone.
“What happened to Josh?” Tony asked, almost succeeding in keeping the hopeful tone from his voice. Hm, I thought when I heard the name. Could it be the same Josh from my acting class? I dismissed the thought almost immediately.
Ashley rolled her eyes. “I am so over him. He’s so…boring. He just kept talking about anime and cartoons for his art class. I mean, even that Greek god mystique of his can’t make that interesting. And when I asked if he was seeing anyone, he said there’s a girl in his class he’s interested in.” She made a face and gulped down the last of her drink. Tony was grinning widely.
“Did he say what class?” I tried to make the question sound casual.
Ashley gave me a strange look. “No. Why?”
“No reason,” I answered. It probably wasn’t the same guy anyway. And even if it was, the girl he liked was probably Victoria.
“O-kay…” Ashley drew the word out even more than usual, obviously not totally convinced but deciding to let it go anyway. She held up her empty glass. “Let’s go get refills.” And she grabbed my arm and dragged me off toward the bar without waiting for a response. I never did end up meeting the mysterious Josh that night.
Chapter Five
Georgina Wallace
Beginning acting might be my favourite class, because… —feeling happy
@ginawallace23
No use crying over burnt milk, especially when it means a cute boy comes to your rescue. #damselindistress #knightinshiningarmor
Georgina64 listened to
&n
bsp; American Boy—Estelle (feat. Kanye West)
“Gina, are you sure you don’t want to come to this Burberry event at Aqua in Oxford Circus with me?” Ashley asked for what must have been the millionth time as she flitted about the house getting ready. I was reading in the living room.
“I can’t, Ash. I have a ton of coursework to do.”
She sighed dramatically, “Oh, fine. Well, if you get hungry, there’s food in the fridge. Help yourself to anything.” She glanced at her watch. “Sorry, I have to dash. My cab is waiting downstairs.”
“Have fun!” I called after her, waving goodbye. Ashley was always on the go, attending every event and party—and she knew absolutely everyone. It was exhausting just watching her sometimes. I had no idea how she found the time to do her coursework. Part of me would have liked to go with her, but I really did have a lot of reading to do.
Hours later, I was bored stiff and half falling asleep. I swear it was like reading Beowulf in the original Old English. I wandered into the kitchen and poked through the cabinets and refrigerator. Feeling too lazy to cook, I finally decided to just warm up some milk and head to bed. I could get a fresh start in the morning. I pulled out a small pot and turned the burner to medium-low heat. I must have closed my eyes, because the next thing I knew, the smoke alarm was going off.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed, suddenly wide awake. The milk was burning. In a panic, I switched off the burner and grabbed one of my textbooks to start fanning the alarm. It just kept going on and on. I fanned harder, and it got louder. It was after 10 p.m. on a weeknight; my neighbors were going to kill me.
Over the wailing of the alarm, I heard a knock on the door. I ran to open it, bracing myself for the wrath of an angry neighbor. I flung open the door and my eyes widened. It was him—the guy from beginning acting class. Josh. He was Tony’s flatmate. He must be. He was wearing a thin t-shirt and sweatpants, and he looked like a Calvin Klein underwear model. I swallowed hard and tried not to blush.
“Is everything alright?” He asked.
“I, uh, the alarm…uh, the milk burned and the alarm…” I stammered.
He walked past me into the apartment and reached up to fiddle with the alarm. After a moment, it stopped shrieking. The sudden silence was a tremendous relief.
“Thank you.”
Joshua was opening a window. “That should be alright, but the smoke smell might be hard to get rid of. Do you have air freshener?”
I nodded and walked past him into the kitchen. He followed me. We both looked up at the ceiling, where there was now an ugly black spot.
“You’re probably going to have to notify the concierge downstairs about that.” Joshua noted as I reached under the sink for the air freshener. He took it and sprayed into the living room, then turned back to me. He looked at me intently, then took me gently by the shoulders. “Hey, are you ok? Just breathe. One, two, three. You’re fine now,” he said soothingly.
I let out a big sigh, and he let his hands drop from my shoulders back to his sides. “Thank you. I am so sorry for the bother. I guess I was way more tired than I thought. I’ve been studying for hours, you see, and…I’m sorry.” To my intense mortification, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I was starving, I suddenly realized, and exhausted, and miserable. And PMSing. I blinked furiously and turned away from him.
“Have you had dinner?” He asked suddenly.
I shook my head, not quite trusting my voice not to tremble if I spoke.
“Well, you’re in luck because I happen to make a very nice stir fry. May I poke around in your cupboards? Or should I just run down to Waitrose?”
“There’s chicken and vegetables in the fridge; rice in the pantry,” I answered, then added quickly, “You really don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” he insisted. “It just so happens that I haven’t had dinner either, and I’m starving. And it’s no fun cooking for one. So,” he said, as if that settled the matter.
“Well, then at least let me help.”
He set me to chopping vegetables as he told me how he’d been an Eagle Scout and learned to cook at fourteen. It felt strangely familiar and comfortable to be making dinner and chatting casually with this virtual stranger in my kitchen. He had his back to where I sat at the counter, so I had a great view of his cute little butt. Ashley wasn’t kidding about the Greek god physique.
“So how did you end up majoring in cinematic arts?” I asked.
He shot me a look over his shoulder, “Paying attention in class, are we?”
I shrugged, “Maybe. So?”
“Well, I love art and colors. Before I started my course, I spent a summer in Italy just painting and drawing and learning Italian. That’s how I met my flatmate Antony. But I love movies even more, and I want to create films. I guess it’s my way of expressing myself. I want to be a director of a TV series or an indie film.”
“That’s awesome. I’m doing my postgraduate in scriptwriting. I don’t know all or even most of what I want out of life, but I do know that I want to be a writer.” I paused, then asked, “Can I see some of your work some time?”
“Sure,” he answered easily. “Will you let me read some of yours?”
I hesitated. “Maybe.”
“C’mon, Georgie, a guy cooks you dinner, the least you could do is let him read your work.” He turned to me and held out a hand for the onions and garlic. I handed him the cutting board and he dumped them into the pan on the stove, then gave the cutting board back and stared at me expectantly.
I gave in reluctantly. “Okay, fine, I promise to show you some of my work…some time. Not tonight, though.”
“Fair enough.”
“So where did you get your degree?” I asked after a moment, continuing to chop up the other vegetables.
“USC,” he answered proudly.
I stopped what I was doing and stared at him until he turned around to look at me, then said with a straight face, “Get out. Trojans aren’t welcome here.”
He gave me an exaggeratedly wounded look, “Ah, so you’re a Bruin, then? Pity.” Then he flashed a cheerful grin and winked at me, “Well, fortunately we’re cheering for the same team now, Georgie.”
~ THANK YOU ~
