Samantha pushed Natalie’s straggly brown hair away from her face, careful around the cuts, and then sighed. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Still alive with all my money, I guess, so—”
“But really though… We can go to the police if that’ll make you feel better.”
Now that she was completely sober, Natalie had briefly considered the option. However, she could barely remember what the guy looked like, and if they set a row of men in front of her and asked her to choose her attacker, she would have been hopeless. What was the point of wasting her time—and everyone else’s—by spending the day at the police station?
So, she shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Positive?”
“One hundred percent.”
“You’re allowed to change your mind at any time. Mick and I will go with you.”
Natalie smiled. “I know.”
She believed her too: from the genuine quality in her voice to the way she tilted her body toward her, Samantha seemed legitimately concerned about last night’s predicament, as well as her mental state that morning.
“Right, so if you’re okay, let’s discuss the other boy—”
“Food first,” she interjected. Her stomach rumbled at the thought, and they both drifted down to the eatery to grab Natalie something substantial. In the end, she walked away with a buttered bagel and a chocolate milk. One whiff of the milk send her stomach curling, so she tossed the container and focused on her bagel, snagging a free cup of water from one of the cafeteria workers.
“It’s fate,” Samantha said after Natalie retold every detail she could remember about her time with Andy—twice. “It has to be.”
“I don’t really believe in fate,” she admitted with a shrug. “I mean, it was coincidence, maybe, but—”
“No, no, it was fate.” Samantha leaned across the table, and Natalie hated that she had no heavy circles under her eyes, her skin appearing perfectly unblemished. Meanwhile, Natalie could feel a pimple starting on her chin from not washing her make-up off before bed.
“If you say so.”
“I mean, this perfect guy practically falls from the sky to be a knight in shining armor, and you don’t think that has something to do with fate?”
“Samantha, he was just there at the right place at the right time. And… was perfect,” she finished with a blush. Slamming a fist down on the table, Samantha stood and placed her hands on her hips, her face determined.
“We’re going to find him!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, chuckling nervously as some of the nearby tables of people gawked at them. She gestured for her newfound confidant to sit down, then took another small bite of her bagel. “It’s a huge city and he’s one guy… I don’t know his last name, and I don’t even know where he’s staying.”
“Fate will bring you guys together. We’ll do a walking tour of the area today… I bet you’ll walk right into him.”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “You’re absurd.”
“I’m a romantic,” Samantha told her. “Now hurry up… We’ve wasted the day, and for all you know, he could be right outside looking for you!”
The next bite of her bagel sent her lurching for the nearby bathroom, and as she puked into the grimy toilet, Natalie told fate to go fuck itself—she didn’t need this right now.
Even if she didn’t believe in fate like Samantha, Natalie couldn’t help but hope to see Andy on their walking tour of the downtown sites. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen. Not when they stood in the vast lines of the Eiffel Tour and the Louvre, nor was he by the Paris Opera House or Notre Dame. Even when they paused for an outdoor lunch in an urban park, surrounded by other happy people enjoying the sunshine, Natalie scanned the scenery for a vaguely familiar face.
Nothing. When she crawled into bed that night, she decided to stick with her resolve to give up on men for a little bit—give up on the prospect of a relationship, anyway. Andy was one man, a wonderfully kind and deliciously sexy man, but he wasn’t the reason she was in Europe. Personal growth was on the agenda for the next few months, and there was absolutely no chance for growth if she was hung up on a guy again. So, even if it was a little disappointing that Andy was only for one drunken night, she knew she had to leave it at that.
What she decided not to leave behind, however, were Sam and Mick. They spent a week taking mini-trips around Paris and the surrounding cities, even venturing down to Nice for a weekend. When all three had checked off every French to-do on their list, Natalie asked where they were headed next. Aachen, a relaxation retreat in Germany, was in the cards for the couple, and before Natalie could hint that she wanted to stay with them, they asked if she was up for a few days at a spa in the beautiful German countryside.
Yes, a thousand times yes. Grateful that she had worked double her hours in the last few weeks at work, Natalie let herself splurge a little. She paid more for a guest suite in Aachen, and forked over some more Euro for a first class train ride to Brussels. Amsterdam came next in the weeks that followed, and she spent a small fortune on clothes and food, finding that she really enjoyed the Dutch culture and lifestyle: laidback yet present was the only way she could think to describe them.
Her legs ached from all the biking she had done in Holland, but her sides were always sore from all the laughter. Mick and Sam were the perfect travel companions: they knew when to give her space and when she wanted company, and Natalie thought she had enough sense to do the same. Euro Trip 2014 was better than she could have ever hoped for, and even as her bank account dwindled day by day, she knew it could only get better from there.
She was sad to see Holland go, and if she had some time to herself again to travel, she vowed to return. However, Mick and Sam suggested taking a boat across the English Channel to get a taste of the tea and crumpets life. They also had a few friends in London, which meant she didn’t have to pay for a hotel room. It wasn’t until they arrived, however, that they learned Chester—said friend—was away for a conference all week. He left his key with his neighbour, and the traveling trio were able to use his Covent Garden flat.
“Well, this is posh,” Natalie had said when they shut the door behind them, dumping her dusty travel bag on the pristine hardwood. “Righto, righto…”
“Please don’t try that accent out on the general public,” Mick had teased while Samantha threw the thick curtains open. “You’ll probably be hanged.”
“I thought it was pretty good…”
“You’d be wrong there, babe.”
Babe. Love. Sugar. Nat. Natty. Lee-Lee. Those were just some of the names Mick and Samantha had given her; it seemed Australians had a proclivity to give anything and everything a nickname. Avro for afternoon. Soz for sorry. It was taking her a little while to get accustomed to the lingo, because it seemed like there was a new word for her to add to her vocabulary every day.
“Well, throw something light on,” Samantha had ordered as they started to settle in, Natalie midway through figuring out the pull-out leather couch in the sitting room. “We got a big day ahead of us!”
That was almost three hours ago. After taking a boat in the early morning, then navigating London’s hectic foot-traffic around noon, Samantha dragged Natalie and Mick to all the sights they could see without needing a cab. The London Eye. Buckingham Palace. A pub where Mick puked on the bar—what an end to the day.
The next few days were dedicated to more sightseeing, to exploring more of the city in greater detail, while spending their nights in a swanky apartment with zillions of TV channels to surf. The pull-out couch was a little hard, despite its plush leather exterior, but she wasn’t about to complain. London was probably one of the pricier places they had visited, and her credit cards were taking major hits at every attraction they visited.
That was why, after taking the tour of the Tower of London, Natalie pushed for a cheap lunch option. Hell, there might be a food truck somewhere that would fill them up for a coup
le of pounds apiece, but Mick was whinging about getting real food.
“I just didn’t have a big breakfast,” he moaned, trailing after the ladies as they wove their way around tourists and regular Londoners alike. “Can’t we do a big lunch, small dinner?”
“There’s no such thing as a small dinner with you,” Samantha chuckled, eyes glued to her Tower of London guidebook. England was supposed to be dreary and miserable, and yet Natalie could feel the sweat collecting under her little yellow sundress, the afternoon heat beating down on them. The air was thick and the people grumpy, and despite wanting a cheap meal, she quickly realized she also wanted to sit inside somewhere with air conditioning.
“We could compromise?” Natalie pointed to a McDonald’s, a bright beacon to Americans everywhere, a few blocks away. “It’ll be cool inside, and you can order as much or as little as you want… It’s perfect.”
“Ugh, McDonald’s makes me really lethargic,” Mick told her, and she rolled her eyes as Sam let out a lengthy sigh. “I mean, if it’s what everyone wants, I won’t complain…”
“That’ll be a first.”
Natalie smirked as the two exchanged narrowed looks, but they were both smiling: it was all in good fun. Unlike many of her couple-friends, Mick and Sam seldom bickered in front of her. That wasn’t to say they never butted heads, but they saved it all for the privacy of their room.
“It was just a suggestion,” she said after a pause, hands on her hips and head cocked to the side as she fanned herself with her folded brochure. Even though her strappy beige sandals went well with her dress, she was starting to regret them: the blister on the side of her big toe might become a problem the longer she spent on her feet. Shifting her weight back and forth, she stared at the people racing by, all the while wishing she had packed her bandages in her purse. It was then, in the midst of bandage-regret and summer frustration, that she spied a familiar face.
Andy. Andy looking stunning and perfectly cool in a light blue suit, his white dress-shirt unbuttoned by two and his blazer slung over his arm.
Even if she didn’t remember much of the night beyond the big picture stuff, Natalie could never forget his face. He recognized her a few feet away, coming to an abrupt halt—so abrupt that the man behind him barreled right into him, not bothering to stop and apologize. The tension eased out of his face, forehead smoothing and eyebrows unfurrowing. His hair seemed a little longer, like it would be more fun to ruffle, and she watched it flicker in the warm breeze.
“Natalie?”
Mick and Samantha stopped taking playful jabs at one another when he said her name, and she wanted to melt into a big pile of goo right then and there: his voice still made her want to do it. Even after a few weeks—almost two months, actually—had passed, Andy from Wherever-the-hell-shire still weakened her knees with his smile.
“Andy?” The question was rhetorical—she knew precisely who he was—but she still tried to ponder a moment without looking like she was gawking at him. “Wow! Small world!”
“So this is Andy?” Samantha whispered heatedly as he approached. She felt the woman’s elbow in her ribs, a little nudge-nudge, and she tried to smile through it. When he went in for a hug, her cheeks blazed, though she could always pass it off as a sunburn—that seemed legitimate, given the weather. She wrapped her arms tentatively around his muscular, broad (yet not too broad) shoulders, catching a strong whiff of cologne and aftershave.
He was stunning, and she was so glad that Mick and Sam were here to witness his gloriousness in person.
When they broke away, he stayed close, arms folded and body shifted toward her. “What are you doing here?”
“Here… like… on the street?”
“In London,” he chuckled, his smile growing. Her cheeks darkened. “I thought you were on some… horribly titled Euro Trip.”
“I am,” she insisted, pointing a thumb at Mick and Samantha over her shoulder. “These are my Australians. We decided to hit up London.”
“Well, how lucky for me,” he mused, reaching around her to shake both sets of hands. When all the formal greetings had been exchanged, she noticed Andy wore a beaming grin that matched hers, and they both chuckled awkwardly when they made eye contact.
“So what—”
“Would you want—”
She could feel Mick and Sam’s gazes fixed on her as she laughed uncomfortably again, tucking her hair behind her ear. Andy shifted his jacket to the other arm.
“You first,” she offered.
“I’m sure you have lots to see and do, but would you… want to maybe grab a bite to eat?”
Her heart soared, and she looked back at her friends—she was practically jumping up and down at the thought. If she could, she’d ecstatically shriek her response from the rooftops.
“Actually, we were just about to get some food—”
“But Micky and I need to take care of some things,” Samantha said suddenly. “Some… apartment… renting… things. Why don’t you two go? We’ll catch up later.”
Samantha blew her a kiss as she dragged Mick down the street, disappearing into the thick crowds in a matter of seconds. Alone with Andy again for the first time in almost a two months, Natalie suddenly found herself shy. The euphoria of seeing him was starting to wear off, and she realized she was now standing next to the man who had rescued her from an attacker, walked her drunken-self home, and kissed her on the steps of a Parisian hostel. When else in her life did she have such an interesting story to tell?
“So,” she said after a pause in conversation. “Where do you want to go?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“This isn’t my city,” she laughed, falling easily in step with him as they started off down the street, their pace leisurely. “I didn’t know it was your city either.”
“London is sort of my city,” he told her. “Paris was too for a time… I travel a lot for work, but England is technically still home.”
“Speaking of work…” They waited in a herd of people at an intersection, and she couldn’t help but smile when their hands brushed. If it was possible, he was even sexier in the daylight. She could see the light dusting of freckles on his nose, barely there against his light skin. He was definitely taller than she remembered, and as they crossed at the light, her skin prickled when it recalled the feel of his muscular shoulders in her arms. She glanced down at her body, pleased she had chosen a sundress that showed off her curves appropriately. Once they were through the thickest of the crowd, she continued, “You never told me what you did.”
“Oh, it’s really business-y and really boring,” he assured her. “Most people’s eyes glaze over when I go into details.”
“Well, I’m not most people.”
He shot her a cheeky grin. “I noticed.”
Natalie let out a little puff of air, unable to stop smiling as he ushered her into a street-side bistro. When asked where she would rather sit, inside or out, she gave a resounding, “In!” before racing into the air conditioned room. Despite the crowds on the sidewalk, it wasn’t particularly busy in the restaurant, and they were able to grab a small two-seater table by the back window. A waitress dropped off two menus, promising to return in a few minutes, and Natalie buried herself behind the small book, scanning the words but not really reading any of it.
“Get whatever you want,” Andy said suddenly, menu already closed and set near the side of the table. “It’s on me.”
“What?” Her laughter was a little strained now that they were in such close quarters, the roar of traffic and people gone. It was like she was exposed here: daylight, a quiet back corner in a restaurant. She couldn’t hide behind her menu forever—she didn’t want to. Still, she couldn’t believe he was a real person. Shouldn’t there be paparazzi snapping photos of him before rushing off to post them on gossip websites? He had to be a celebrity, or a world-class model at the very least. That must be why he traveled. “Business-y and boring” was a front.
“Wha
t do you mean what?”
“You don’t have to… I can pay for my lunch,” she rambled, cheeks flushed as he chuckled. “No, I mean it.”
“Well, if you insist—”
“I do.” She hadn’t meant to sound brusque with him, but he had already done so much for her—she could pay a few quid for her lunch. “I think I’ll just get a sandwich.”
His smile grew. “Me too.”
With their orders in—she a grilled cheese with ketchup (which was listed as tomato sauce on the menu) and he a club sandwich, no tomato—and menus gone, Natalie was shocked at how natural their conversation flowed. He inquired about her time in Paris, and nodded along as she regaled him with all the sites she and her Australians explored together.
“Did you see that funny little woman who lurks the Renaissance wing at the Lourve?” he asked at one point, to which Natalie shook her head. “She’s a real riot… Knows everything about everything.”
“Oh really?”
“Well, that’s what she likes to tell me, anyway.”
They both leaned back as the waitress deposited their lunches in front of them. She then set a pot of tea between them to share, and Natalie lost herself in his voice again. It was easy to forget she had food in front of her, and occasionally she would wolf down a few massive bites to look like she was eating. The grilled cheese was stellar, don’t get her wrong, but Andy was worth more of her attention. Charming, witty, articulate, he was everything that little girls fantasized about after they realized most men were assholes.
After the waitress took their empty plates away, they nursed their cups of tea, feet just touching under the table. Time crawled by, and she asked him about all the best places to go while she was in England, and where she ought to visit afterward. All of his suggestions, from Stonehenge to the Roman Baths, were worth noting, but she couldn’t process them. In fact, she didn’t want to think about even leaving the cosy bistro, let alone leaving the city.
Two pots of tea later, and she could feel them both struggling to keep the small talk going. It was as if neither wanted to delve into subjects that were too serious, but even though it was well after three and they had been there since noon, neither wanted to leave either.
London Calling Page 5
