Now, I’d given up on ever seen him again. After all, I was in my last semester of my journalism studies, and about to graduate. I was 23 years old, and the last time I’d seen Christian I was 12. 11 years had passed. All that said, I still thought about him a lot. Well, maybe not locked, but at least once a week something would remind me of the boy that had completely captivated my childhood heart. Despite everything, I still held out hope that one day he would keep his promise, and coming get me. Realistically, I’ve known for years that that wasn’t going to be an option.
Christian had obviously moved on, had obviously created a life for himself in England. There was no way he was going come back for me. I still wondered what became of him. Christian had always liked music, and I knew he dreamed of being in a band, but I wondered what he really ended up doing. I knew I could look him up on the Internet and find his social networking accounts, probably finding out what he became, but a part of me also like the mystery and I never did it.
Now, I had my answer. Sitting in my inbox was an email from Christian Anderson, my first contact with him in nearly a dozen years. Honestly, I didn’t really believe it when I read it. I had to go searching online to make sure what he told me was really true, and to my surprise, it was.
I read the letter from start to finish once more:
“Dear Violet,
I hope this is the right email address for you, I caught it from one of your friends on a social networking site. I could have simply messaged you, but somehow emails seem more personal. It’s funny how that is, the last time we saw each other neither of us even had an email address.
To get to the point, I want to apologize for not having contacted you sooner. I have no excuse, life simply got in the way. Then, the other day I decided that I was tired of simply thinking about you. I remembered the promise that I meet you, that I would come back for you one day. That day is today. I’m still in England of course, but I’d like to invite you to come and visit me.
There are no strings attached to this visit, and if you come over here and decide that you hate me then that’s fine. But I’d really like the opportunity to see if there was something there, if what we had back in elementary school is still there. You were my best friend, and there is nothing more in the world that I would like them to see you again.
I don’t know what’s become of you, but I’d like to hear what you’ve been up to. As for myself, will basically am living my dream. You know how I always wanted to be a part of the band? Well, in high school I started a group along with three of my best friends. We got quite lucky, the drummer’s father you a guy who knew a guy, and the next thing we knew we were signed to a label.
We’re pretty big in the UK, although practically nobody in the United States has heard of us. I’m sure you’re no exception, our label does no promotion over on your side of the ocean. Anyway, our band is called Deux Pamplemousses, which is French for two grapefruits. Feel free to look up her music videos if you’d like.
Of course, I’m noticing now that I’m rambling. I always used to ramble. But, now you know. I don’t know what you’re up to, I don’t know if you’ve got the time or even the inclination to come and visit me, but I just want you to know that I would like you to come and if that something that interests you as well then please reply to this email and we can organize something.
I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me. If that’s the case, then please either don’t reply to this email or tell me exactly what you think. Regardless of which option you choose, I’ll have deserved it. I wanted to go back home in the summer, come back and see you, but my parents wouldn’t let me the first few years, telling me I had to get used to life in this new country. Then, of course, life got in the way and everything changed. The years went by, and while I never forgot my promise I also never acted on it.
Well, this is me acting on it. I’d love for you to come and visit, and I’ll buy you a plane ticket for whenever. Just let me know.
Lots of love,
Your best friend Christian.”
It wasn’t the most romantic letter, the prose was far from flowing, but that had always been how Christian wrote. It was nice to see that some things never changed. I couldn’t help but note that his spelling had improved, however.
I mulled over his offering my head. Instinctively, I wanted to email him back, tell him how much I’d missed him as well and that I wanted to be on the next flight over. But did I really? Was it really a good idea? After all, he promised me that he would come back, and 11 years isn’t exactly staying on top of things. I had my own life now, and in just under a month I was going to graduate. I was starting to apply for jobs, starting my own career. Was that really something I was going to put on hold for a guy that I hadn’t seen in a dozen years? For a guy who might be completely different from the boy I knew when we were in school together? I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.
I decided to sleep on it, and went through the rest of the day. I tried working on the journalism assignment, but my mind kept drifting back to Christian’s letter. Something had changed since I read it. There was a feeling inside of me, not of emptiness anything like that, but more of desire. There was no way I could ignore it, my body was curious and it wanted to see Christian again.
It was dangerous, I knew that. If I saw him, maybe I would realized that I had actually over the years immortalized Christian is a much better person than he was. Maybe he would’ve changed completely, and I can. I could ruin all of my good memories of him by going to see him. But, I could also continue I love that had existed inside of me before.
The other thing I wondered about was his band. It was true, I’d never heard of Deux Pamplemousses, but I was interested. I searched the band’s name online, and watched a few of their videos. Sure enough, Christian still looked pretty much the same as he did all those years ago. He wore more leather now, and his muscles bulged beneath his clothes now, but he still had that same beautiful face, the glittering blue eyes and gorgeous brown hair, although it was longer now, and the frosted tips were gone. I had to admit, it was kind of cool looking at him perform. He was good, there was no doubt about it.
Next, I searched the band, trying to see exactly what he meant about their popularity. It was funny, I never imagined that places like England would have their own superstars that we over here in America had never heard of, but Deux Pamplemousses was one of them. Their debut album had gone number one in the UK in its first week, beating out one of the biggest stars on this side of the Atlantic. The more I read about the band, the more impressed I was. Christian had definitely understated things; he was well and truly a celebrity over there.
The band was named the fourth most popular British group by one of their biggest newspapers last year, there were fan sites with thousands – yes, thousands – of fans dedicated to the band, they had huge numbers of fans on every social networking website, and sure enough, I’d never heard of them. I had to admit, I was impressed. Christian was living his dream, and as I watched him bounce around a stage in his videos, I also had to admit that he’d grown up to be just as good looking as he was in his youth.
I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, thinking about Christian’s offer. I wanted to take it, but I wasn’t sure it was the right move.
What happened to you? What happened to your sense of adventure? Sure, he could just be a memory, but he could also be so much more than that. Isn’t it worth the risk to find out? Isn’t it worth finding out even if it’s just to get closure?
My little speech to myself worked. My mind was made up. I looked at my bedside clock, which read 2:37am. It didn’t matter. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I got up and went over to my computer, booted it up, clicked on the email from Christian and pressed reply.
My fingers hovered over the keys for quite a while before I typed a reply. Then, when I was done, I read it over again, and again, and again, every time fixing up sentences. I wanted this email to be perfect. Eventuall
y, I was happy with what I’d written.
“Hi Christian,
That sounds good. If I’m honest, I’ve waited to hear from you for years. I think about you probably every week or so, and I wonder how you’re doing. I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. I’d like to come and visit, I think it could be good for the both of us. I’m finishing my journalism degree, and will graduate early next month, but after that I’m free. In fact, it could be a great time to travel, before I really settle down and start my career,
It was nice to hear from you. Thanks for keeping your promise.
- Violet”
I pressed send and closed my eyes. A few minutes later I went back to my bed, and after a while spent tossing and turning, finally fell asleep. I woke up the next day and found a new email in my inbox. Christian was thrilled I’d taken him up on his offer, and wanted to see what dates I wanted to leave.
We spent the next few days sorting out the details, until finally it was all sorted. There was a ticket in my name waiting at the airport for a flight to London in five weeks. I couldn’t really believe this was actually happening, in a way. I was actually going to go to England, visiting Europe for the first time, to see someone I hadn’t seen in almost a dozen years.
The next few weeks felt like they absolutely crept by, when they should have flown. After all, I finished all of my assignments and exams for my courses and went through the graduation ceremony, finally having finished my degree.
Then, the next thing I knew, I was packing my bags and heading to the airport. I’d only been on a plane once before in my life, when we flew to Florida for a family vacation when I was in grade three. I was looking forward to this new adventure, after all I’d never left the States before in my life. As I settled into my seat, business class, paid for by Christian, I wondered what the UK was going to have in store for me. I wondered what Christian would have in store for me.
* * *
Six or so hours later I landed in England, having crossed the ocean for the first time in my life. Christian had told me he would have someone meet me, and sure enough, among the crowd of drivers waiting after I exited customs was a man in a suit holding a board with my name on it, just like in the movies! I introduced myself awkwardly, not really knowing how these things go, and the man introduced himself as Tim, took my bag and led me towards the exit.
Tim took me to the car that was to drive me to downtown London. It was a sleek, expensive late-model sedan, completely black, including the tinted windows. I’d never seen anything like it before.
“Are we still going to your hotel, Miss Adler?” Tim asked, peering at me through the rear view mirror.
“Yes, please” I replied. Christian and I had decided that when I landed I should probably take some time to get over the jet lag. Christian told me it was bad, especially after one’s first trip overseas, and I could tell now what he meant. It was just before noon, and I was completely exhausted. We organized that I would go to the hotel I was staying at first, and then in a day or two when I was feeling up to it I could give him a call and we would meet up somewhere.
That first day really felt like a bit of a daze. Tim dropped me off at the front of the hotel and brought my bags in. I checked into the room Christian had booked for me. He wanted to get me a lavish, extravagant place, but I insisted that a regular one-bedroom suite would do me wonderfully. He eventually caved, and as I entered the room, which I had to admit felt quite roomy for a one-bedroom, with a full kitchen, living room and luxury bathroom, I had a quick shower to freshen up after the flight and collapsed in the bed.
I realized how awful jet lag was going to be when I woke up, completely refreshed at seven that evening. Uh oh, I’m not going to get to sleep until like five tomorrow morning, and then this whole cycle is going to start all over again I thought to myself. I also realized I was completely ravenous, not having eaten anything since arriving in London.
Thankful that I decided to grab some Great Britain Pounds before leaving, I went out into the night in search of a restaurant. I settled on a pub with an outdoor patio, sitting at a table with “bangers and mash”, or as I call it, sausages and mashed potatoes. Along with a local beer, I watched the locals go by, enjoying my quintessentially British food and enjoying the pleasant evening.
I wondered if I should call Christian, then decided against it. After all, we’d decided I’d take a day or two to settle in first. After my meal, I walked along the streets, making sure I had the address of my hotel with me first. It was amazing, walking through this huge city, noticing landmarks like the Big Ben and the Double Decker busses that I’d seen in newspapers and on TV all my life, seeing them in real life for the first time.
When I finally started to feel tired I went back to the hotel and watched some late night British TV for a while until I finally fell asleep once more.
The next day I went to the corner store, bought a prepaid sim card for my phone and dialed the number Christian gave me.
“Hello?” he answered, the slightest of English accents tingeing the voice I knew so well. His voice was deeper than the last time I’d seen him, of course, but the inflection, the way he spoke was still the same as before.
“Hey, um, it’s Violet” I answered, suddenly feeling butterflies in my stomach.
“Hey, Violet, how was your flight?”
“It was good, thanks. You were right about the jet lag though, it completely took it out of me.”
“Yeah, jet lag’s terrible. It’ll probably take you a few days to get over it, until then you’ll probably find that you’ll be ok until mid afternoon and then suddenly find yourself completely exhausted.”
“Great, so I still have a few days of this to look forward to?”
“Yup, but it’s never as bad as the first day. Did you want to come over and have lunch or something today?”
“That sounds nice.”
“Awesome. I’ll have Tim come by and pick you up, he’ll bring you over to my place.”
As Tim drove me through the streets of downtown London, I began to ask a few questions, and it quickly became an impromptu sightseeing tour. We went past all the major landmarks, with Tim pointing them out and explaining to me their importance in history. It was funny to think of all the things that happened even before America was even a country!
Finally, we were in a suburb of London, not far from the city. Tim pulled up in front of an apartment building, or ‘flats’ as I learned they were called in England. The building was beautiful, white and in an old-style, as though it had been built a hundred years ago.
“Go on in, take the elevator to the fifth floor, and it’s the first door on your right” Tim told me with an encouraging smile. I thanked him and went in. The interior of the building was in complete contrast to the outside. Modern and new, with just a few hints of the building’s history here and there, I almost didn’t believe I went in through the right door.
I took the elevator to the fifth floor, then paused for a second in front of the first door on the right. This was a big moment. In a few seconds, I was going to see the guy who had been my best friend in my childhood for the first time in years. I held my breath and closed my eyes as I held my closed fist in front of the door, then exhaled as I knocked three times, softly.
A few seconds later, I heard footsteps and the door opened. Standing right there, right in front of me, was Christian Anderson. I stared at him for a while, not really knowing what to do. He looked like he did in the music videos I’d watched, but this was still different. Standing right here in front of him, less than two feet away from the man was way different to seeing him on a screen. He was so real, so here, and, I have to admit this was one of the first thoughts that passed through my head, still hot.
Before I had a chance to do or say anything, Christian moved forward and grabbed me in a big bear hug. His muscles pressed against me, pulling me to his chest, the scent of his aftershave wafting into my nostrils. There was a spark there, an undeniable spark. As soon
as I laid eyes on Christian, I could feel my body reacting. It was like my heart was swelling, like it wanted to burst out and grab him. It was like my insides were melting, like there was nothing more I wanted to do than to fall into his arms and stay there.
“I’m so glad to see you” he exclaimed, pulling away after a few seconds and pulling me inside. “Come on in, Violet. It’s so good to see you.”
“You too!” I replied, looking around. Christian’s apartment was incredible. Completely modern, it had to be almost brand new. The entrance led into a huge open concept living room/kitchen combo, tastefully decorated with furniture that looked like it cost more than my parent’s house.
“Wow, your place looks amazing. Do you really live here?”
Christian laughed. “Yeah. I wasn’t going to buy it, but Pete, one of the other guys in the band, kind of insisted. I used most of my advance from the sales of the album to buy it, and I have to say, I don’t regret it at all.”
“So basically when you said you were in a band in the UK, you didn’t tell me you were like, the most famous person in the country.”
Christian laughed. “Well, I didn’t, because that would be a lie.”
“You were always so modest and humble” I teased. With every passing second I felt myself getting more and more comfortable in his presence. It was amazing. I had never expected to react like this, I didn’t understand why I was doing so. I was like a lovesick puppy.
“Can I get you a drink or anything? I’ve ordered some food, it should be here soon. I hope you like Indian food, I’ve found London has some of the best Indian I’ve ever eaten.”
“Sounds delicious!” I replied. Christian got me a drink of water and we sat down on the couch, catching up on the years we missed. It was funny how naturally it came, how quickly it felt like the years hadn’t passed at all and we’d just seen each other the previous day. The food arrived and we dug in, like we were teenagers again on a date.
It felt nice, it felt right. I asked Christian about his band, he told me all about it, I told him about journalism school and how I wanted to work for a newspaper as maybe a foreign correspondent or something. Travel was something I’d always enjoyed, and I didn’t want to end up writing articles about how the local elementary school did in their volleyball tournament for the rest of my life.
Rock Me Senseless (Rock Star Erotic Romance) (Rock Me #1) Page 2
