"My uncle once told me that the only time his brother seemed truly happy…
was when he was around her."
We stepped out of the taxi, and I instantly shot Edwina a glare. "Eaton Square Garden? Really? You couldn't find us a place outside of Chelsea?" "Isn't it perfect?! I got us the closest place I could find," my sister beamed in delight at the white-painted buildings in front of us. I couldn't have side-eyed her harder. "You mean the most expensive place. How the hell are we supposed to cover the rent?! Do you know how much this is costing us?" She'd BETTER know!
Edwina's hand waved at me dismissively. "Don't worry about that; it's all taken care of." I huffed, running my hand over top of my eyes. "Does your fiancé know about your extravagant spending habits?" "Pfft, he doesn't care. That's the beauty of marrying a billionaire; he can fund whatever kind of lifestyle I want. It's not "extravagant spending habits", by the way. I have refined tastes," her hand rested on her chest like this was something important to say. My eyes gave a massive roll. "Refined? We're staying in the old maid's quarters, and it's still costing an arm and a leg." "Ah, ah, ah! But we're in Chelsea! I've always wanted to stay here. And besides, Anthony lives not too far away." "Oh, he's given you his address already, has he?" "Not yet, but he's told me he's close to Buckingham Palace. Now so are we!" I sighed extra-dramatically, rolling my eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day. "Yippy."
While the driver and I unloaded our luggage from the car, Edwina got the key to the flat. Our part of the building was this excessively narrow hallway previously used by servants in the Victorian Era. Cramped isn't even an accurate word to describe how tiny this place was; you could barely move, never mind get the suitcases through. Edwina's room was right next to mine; it was like this weird hotel setup with all the room doors lining the wall. She unlocked my door as I somehow dragged everything through.
Jesus, if I thought the hallway was bad, my room was worse. Imagine a closet; now remove ten percent of the space. The bed was a single- barely. There wasn't anywhere to hang my clothes; no dresser, no desk, not even a chair. A miniature bathroom was right beside the door, and that didn't have its own door either. The only good things about this room were the air conditioner- a rarity in the UK- and a small window overlooking the very bottom of the street above us; I guess this room was mostly underground somehow?
Out of all the rooms I've ever stayed in, even hotel rooms and hostels, THIS was the smallest- and likely the most expensive. I couldn't prepare for Oxford here; there wasn't any room! Luckily for me though, the location was ideal; I had to give Edwina that. This was my favourite part of London, not that I ever imagined us living here. Well, Edwina would stay here; I'd be moving soon enough. "Think of this like a hotel room, Kate….. A really, really small hotel room," I told myself, setting down my suitcase and planting my hands on my hips.
It was the middle of the afternoon and I was frankly exhausted; it had been a long journey. Not the longest we've ever had, but still. Knowing Edwina would want to unpack and organize her room, I took the opportunity to enjoy some me-time. The first thing I did was have a two-hour nap, uninterrupted by any noise outside- thankfully. When I woke up I had a short shower and got changed. By then it was nearing seven o'clock. I wasn't really hungry and didn't want to stay in this tiny hole any longer. But I didn't really want to do anything big and energetic either; I just had that sort of "blah, leave me alone" feeling, if you know what I mean.
Unlike her older sister, Edwina was always ready and anxious to go. She was putting on an earring when I finally stepped out of my room in a sweater and blue jeans. I immediately could tell that she was going out for the evening judging by the fact her hair was done up and she was wearing something fancy.
"See? I told you; isn't this place great?" She grinned happily. "I'm not sure if I'd call it "great"," I retorted. Ignoring my comment, Edwina locked up her door and brushed passed me; I watched her go by down the hall.
"Going out?" "Yeah. I'm going to meet some friends. Don't wait up." "Are you gonna get dinner on the way?" "We'll grab something downtown. What are you gonna do?" She asked, now turning her attention to her done-up hair. My shoulder shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh, I was thinking of going on a bike ride by the Thames. We're in a safe enough neighbourhood," and I loved biking. She nodded, opening the front door. "Cool. Well have fun. I'll see you tomorrow morning if not tonight." "Ok, just be careful. Call me if you need anything." "I will!" And slam went our tiny door. I remained there stationary for a moment, gazing down the empty hallway. It was so odd and unfamiliar; it almost had this Studio Ghibli quality about it. I could tell I was alone on our floor, and yet…. It just felt so eerie and surreal all at the same time. It was constricting and tight, but the place was already starting to grow on me- a little.
And so it was. I pulled out my bike- the one I bought in Amsterdam soon after we moved there- and checked the gears. All seemed well so on I hopped. It was still light out and I'd been around here before; I knew it'd be ok for me to go out on my own for a little while. I should also had that I usually leave my phone at home when I go on walks by myself. Back in my first year of undergrad I read that constantly checking your phone killed your ability to concentrate, and since I was on the "get into Oxford" mindset back then, I got out of the habit of always having it on me. Heh and yes, it was as hard as it sounds, but looking back I'm so glad I did. Now I could be out and just enjoy nature, or what you could call "nature" in the heart of London.
I'll never forget that moment; I knew exactly where it happened. I was riding without a care in the world along one of my favourite streets. It's called Grosvenor Road, going off of Millbank, right along the River Thames. One of my favourite British aesthetics was that Victorian Industrial Area brick buildings and streets, which was perfect because there were lots of those lining across the river. The other side of the street was lined with massive oak trees, all with crisp bright green summer leaves. And the best part was nobody else on the sidewalk with me. I was literally riding down one of London's most scenic streets entirely alone in the day's remaining sunlight. The soft, warm June breeze ran through my long hair, sending some stray strands flying behind me.
I remember shutting my eyes and tossing my head back up completely. This radiant, overjoyed smile blossomed across the whole of my face. My breathing was so calm, it felt like I was barely inhaling at all.
I did it. I really did it! I'm still in a state of awe, of pure ecstasy. And not only am I going to Oxford- the best university in the world- but I'm staying in the best part of London for the summer. I give Edwina a lot of guff, but I had to admit, this was wonderful. Utterly, unspeakably wonderful. I don't think I've ever been so happy in my life. I wanted for nothing and felt like I had the world at my fingertips. This was freedom, this was purpose, this was meaning. This is what it meant to live… And I couldn't imagine my life being any different than it was now. There isn't a single thing I would change- not one.
It seemed literally impossible for things to get any better for me.
"Hey, watch out!" My eyes shot open to look straight ahead of me. Ok, so maybe riding with my eyes closed for a full minute wasn't such a good idea, but I hadn't seen anyone else for a good ten minutes! How was I supposed to know someone would just show up out of the blue? But he was there, and my mind- and body- went into immediate panic mode as my bike rode directly for him.
The man didn't have time to jump out of the way, which was fine cause my hands instinctively turned my handlebar. Bad move. My eyes widened in horror and my jaw dropped open as I rode, and crashed, right into a low pole sticking out of the ground. It all happened so quickly; it's kind of a blur. But what basically happened was my front wheel smacked against the metal short square pole keeping some chainmail fancy fencing up. The rest of my bike lifted up off the ground upon impact and I was thrown off it. It was actually like something out of a rom-com movie, except it hurt like hell. I landed on the pavement right in front of my bike, ripping the kneecap of my jeans in the process. My eyes winced in agony as I reached for my mildly bleeding knee as the man stood there, watching me with a shocked look on his face. I didn't see him come running over my way with his arms stretched out worried.
"Are you alright, miss?!" "Ow….." My eyes winced again; both my hands cradled my left knee. "Is your knee broken? Can you move it?" He continued to fret over me. "I-I don't think it's broken…." That's when I gazed up to finally see him. I saw his face, and my insides immediately started to quiver. It's like in those movies when everything goes into slow motion all around you and you suddenly hear music playing.
He was beautiful! No, not beautiful; that word doesn't do him justice. He was gorgeous, utterly stunning; an Adonis hand-crafted by the gods. His jaw-line was chiselled, his whole physique muscular and tone, his hair silky and perfect. Compared to him I felt utterly homely, ugly even. I'd rarely seen any men like him outside of the movies. He had a face and features that women write poetry about.
Everything about him was flawless, but it was his eyes…. There was something particularly striking about them. They were anxious, and had this weathered, aged tint to them. I could already tell that this guy had been through a lot; he carried a considerable amount of emotional baggage with him. And yet, that made him all the more beautiful to me. He wasn't one of those shallow, vapid guys always sliding into my sister's DMs. He was real, he was genuine, and he looked at me sincerely just now.
I'll never forget those deep, endless, emotion-filled eyes….
Reality instantly came crashing back when he touched my bloody knee, as if inspecting it for injury. He frowned when I hissed a little reflectively, feeling a twinge of pain ripple through my skin. I already knew it wasn't broken, but definitely bruised and battered. His endless, angel eyes lifted up to meet mine again.
"You need to go to the hospital. I'll call an ambulance." My hand rose up to stop him as soon as he said this. "I-I'm fine; nothing's broken. I don't need to go to the hospital." "I'll be the judge of that. Stand up; let me get a good look at you."
Stand up? Really? Right after you just said I should go to the hospital cause you think my leg might be broken? You want me to stand on THAT leg? It began to dawn on me though that this ideal of a man, whoever he was, wasn't the most level-headed under pressure. He was panicking a lot more than he was letting himself show, and I don't think he was processing the situation clearly.
My eyes grew as large as dinner plates a second time though once his broad, very strong hand grasped my forearm. He lifted me up like it was nothing; a complete show of strength, which I'm sure he wasn't aware of. I'll admit, I had to do everything in my power not to blush. Can you blame me?! No man had never touched me like this before. Unlike my sister, I had relative no experience with guys. Dating only got in the way of my goal of Oxford, I reasoned. The one man to hold me was Daddy, and it'd been years since then. I didn't know men were this strong… or could pick me up with one hand.
It kinda felt really good.
The man, who looked to be about my age, helped me stand up straight, keeping his hand on me until he was done his "inspection". I felt his eyes roll over me more than once, searching intently for any sign of injury. I felt the need to say something- while looking every which way but at him just then. "I-I'm ok, really." This seemed to give him the reprieve he was looking for. He finally removed his hand, letting out a genuinely relieved sigh. That caught me off guard; he seemed truly glad that I was alright…. You can't fake a reaction like that.
That's when the fun began.
He proceeded to give me one of "those" looks; if you have an older sibling or over-protective lover, you know exactly what I mean. His hands planted on his hips like he was about to give me a lecture, conveniently forgetting that I'm the same age as him.
"What is the matter with you? How did you not see me? We're the only two on the sidewalk!" Oh, he's yelling at me now, is he? To this day I have absolutely no idea where this emotion came from, but… It's so weird. I wasn't offended and didn't feel particularly put off; probably because I saw the real worry in his expression just moments ago. No, instead I felt… I felt….
"Erm… Uh…?" "If you're going to bike, at least ride with your eyes open. You're not even wearing a helmet for Christ's sake!" "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to run into you," both my hands rose up slightly. He huffed, lowering his head to give it a disapproving shake. "That much is evident," he muttered under his breath. I frowned at this only because it seemed like the appropriate reaction, but in truth…. Would it be weird to say I was kind of enjoying myself? This guy was wound on a really tight string, and I think I knew how to tug it…. His eyes then shot me another disapproving glare. "Do us both a favour and wear a helmet next time. I should hope you learn something from this."
He said this and it dawned on me. Yes, I DO know how to tug that tightly bound string. I didn't know anything about him, but judging by the way he was dressed- in a bunch of brands I'll never be able to afford- and considering where we were, my guess is that this was some rich guy. Probably family money; he had that elegant, arrogant air about him. What that also told me was that he likely wasn't used to hearing the word "no" a lot. He's likely used to girls fawning and falling over themselves for him. Or being richer than he is and ignoring him cause he's in his late twenties. Either way, I knew exactly how to deal with him, getting some fun out of it for myself. I pretended to be affronted, crossing my arms defiantly.
"Despite what you might think, I CAN ride a bike." "The evidence proves to the contrary. Don't get on that thing again until you've had the gears checked. Walk it the rest of the way home," this wasn't a suggestion; it was an order. I frowned again, thought secretly felt conflicted inside. I myself wasn't used to being told what to do by men, and I wasn't about to get used to it now. But I'd be lying if I didn't also admit that this was kind of fun. "You don't know how far I live from here," I fired back with a bit of a tone, which didn't impress him. "That's because I don't care. Walk it, unless you'd like me to call a cab for you." "I don't need any more help from you, thank you," I walked the few feet back to my bike, suppressing an amused smile.
The man didn't bother hiding his reaction to my defiance. It was the first time he showed any positive emotion- besides relief- with me, as he let the lines on his face relaxed. He smirked slightly, cocking his head in a mocking gesture, and I knew I'd pulled the right string. His posture relaxed a little.
"Big talk from someone who caused this mess in the first place. You're lucky I'm taking this so well, considering that I'm the victim here." He's the victim? I'm the one with the bleeding knee. "I…. appreciate your "kindness", and I truly am sorry. But you don't need to worry about me; I can take care of myself. Thanks again for your consideration," with that, I began pushing the bike away. He continued to watch me with that charming, arrogant smirk of his.
"You sure you're alright? Didn't hit your head back there, did you?" "You'd know if I had," I replied saucy, finally letting myself grin a tiny bit. His smirk morphed into a half-smile as well as he trailed behind me a few feet. "I mean what I said earlier. Don't let me catch you on that rubbish pile you call a "bike" again tonight." "Heh, you like telling people what to do, don't you?" "Why shouldn't I? Clearly I know more about bicycle safety than you do." "Says you. But don't worry; I won't crash again anytime soon," saying this my head turned over my shoulder to get once last glance at him. Our eyes locked and my heart immediately skipped a beat. It was that damn half-smile, half-smirk of his….. I got the feeling he didn't wear it often… and that made me feel good. Yes, he was used to getting his own way, and he was utterly bored of it. I personified rejection, defiance, disobedience to him, and it drew him in like a moth to the flame. Like a flower to the sun. He seemed to like it as much as I did.
We stared at one another for much too long, which means in reality for like thirty seconds or so. Then, without another word, my head spun back around and I walked forward, pushing my bike alongside me. He didn't budge an inch from where he was standing, simply remaining there watching me go with his hands now buried casually in his pants' pockets. It was only when I was sure I was out of eyeshot did I allow myself to fully smile again. My eyes closed for a moment as I felt the soft evening air enter and exit my lungs.
That guy…. That very-likely rich man. There was something special about him; something I'd never seen in real-life before. He tried to act grumpy, reserved, and superior, but on the inside there was so much more going on. He was genuinely worried about me when I fell, and opened enough to heh, boss me around. That is probably his usual mode of being, which means he likely felt secure enough with me to be authentic…. If only for a few solitary minutes.
Heh, yeah; I know I'm overthinking this. But what can I say? Edwina and I have suffered our own trauma before, so I know the tell-tale signs in another. And frankly…. I just think he's really hot. A hot mess, more like it. Well, it's got nothing to do with me; we'll likely never see each other again. I'll move to Oxford and he'll stay here in Chelsea, where he belongs. Let him and be rich; he'll probably find some young beauty queen to marry and pump out kids. Not that I'm jealous of this hypothetical lady! He seems like a handful, and it's none of my business anyway. It was just one run-in; that's it. Walking leisurely back towards our tiny flat, my smile widened on its own accord. I don't think any man had ever made me smile like this before….. Yes, it was just a silly, meaningless accident. One of those little blips in life…..
But I'll never forget how tightly he gripped my arm, or how profoundly he looked at me.