Lovestruck in London Read online

  “Just another hour,” I whispered back. “Then we’ll be free.”

  A group of the girls from our hall were going to a pub that night for dinner. I was trying to be cool about it, but inside I was thrilled. Going to a pub sounded so quintessentially British. Plus it was a relief just knowing that I wouldn’t be sitting in the residence hall with Callie, both of us passing out as soon as we finished eating, our bodies not yet adjusted to the time change. The girls who had asked us were exactly the kind of girls I had always secretly admired—the girls whose hair always somehow managed to stay styled and sleek, who always had dates, who could sit comfortably with a group of friends in a bar, gossiping and having fun. I had never been one of those girls.

  I tried to turn my attention back to the professor in front of the room. At least eighty years old, he was blessed with an abundance of white hair on both his head and face. He seemed to be wheezing a bit, every word coming out in a raspy whistle. I struggled to concentrate, but the prof couldn’t possibly make his subject sound more boring if he tried. He was rambling on about the various tracks we could sign up for. Normally I would be into it, I loved planning my schedule. One of my favorite fall-time activities was pouring over the course catalogs, researching my professors, and generally spending hours finalizing just the right schedule. Callie always told me I was missing the point of college as she herself signed up for whatever classes applied to her degree requirements and allowed her to sleep in until at least eleven.

  True to form, I knew exactly what I wanted my course focus to be in the program, and had pre-selected all the classes I was hoping to take. I prayed my choices wouldn’t be as boring as the old man was making them sound.

  “Okay,” a clear, female voice called out. With a start, I realized that the man had finished speaking and our coordinator, Valerie, had taken his place at the dais. “That’s all we have for today,” Valerie said. “I encourage you to take a good look at the course catalog tonight as we’ll want your final decisions tomorrow. I’ll be available in my office all morning for those who have questions about any of the tracks.”

  Next to me, I could feel Callie sit up straight, her attention suddenly renewed. I could practically hear her mentally urging the coordinator to let us out early. Valerie started to explain the registration procedure, information we all had in our course catalog. “Come on, come on,” Callie whispered.

  “So if there’re no more questions, you can all be excused to enjoy what’s left of this lovely fall day.”

  Callie let out a loud sigh of relief as the students began gathering up their things. “I thought she was never going to say it,” she muttered, swinging her book bag up onto her shoulder. “I swear, I thought we were going to be stuck in here forever.”

  “Have I ever told you that you’re a bit dramatic, Cal?”

  My friend snorted and we made our way down the row and out into the corridor beyond the lecture hall. “I figure one of us should be,” she said. “When I started hanging out with you, I thought I’d finally found the Latina bombshell to round out my social circle. And instead, I got quiet-as-a-church-mouse Lizzie.”

  “I’m so glad to hear I’ve dispelled your stereotypes about Latina women,” I said, my voice dry. “But I am sorry to have been such a disappointment to you all these years.”

  Callie slung an arm over my shoulder as we stepped out into the weak sunlight outside the lecture hall. “You know I’m only kidding,” she said. “I love you dearly and would have failed all my classes had I not picked the seat next to yours in that first English class.” Callie looked up at the sun and sighed. “Did she call this a lovely fall day? It’s about forty degrees out here and cloudy.”

  “You’re in England,” I reminded her, pulling my jean jacket a little closer around my shoulders. I didn’t tell Callie, but secretly I loved it. Weather like this made me want to curl up inside with a good book. Not tonight, I reminded myself. Tonight you’ll join the world of people who actually go out.

  “Callie!” A voice called from behind us. We turned to see a classmate, Meredith Hall, waving at us from down the sidewalk.

  “Pub night’s off,” she said, catching up to us. “Johanna and Tonya are panicking about their class schedule. Apparently they haven’t looked at the catalog once. Plus there’s that novel we were supposed to read for Patterson’s seminar in the morning. None of us has even touched it.”

  I groaned. I, of course, had finished the novel the day after it was assigned. “Really?”

  “Lizzie’s feeling a little claustrophobic in the dorms,” Callie explained.

  “Me, too,” Meredith nodded, flipping her blonde hair behind her shoulder. I was momentarily distracted. I could spend my life’s savings at the best salon in London and I’d never get my hair that sleek or shiny. “But I’ve heard Patterson is really tough,” Meredith was saying, “and he has final say over his class list. If we start off on his shit list, I bet he won’t let us in.”

  I couldn’t help but scowl. Here I was, ready to not put my entire focus on schoolwork for once, and the cool girls I had always admired had suddenly been struck with a sense of academic responsibility.

  “What about Friday night?” Meredith asked. “We’ll be finished with orientation and everyone should be settled by then. Besides, we won’t have to get up early the next day, so we’ll have plenty of time to party.”

  I felt a flicker of excitement that was quickly dashed. “We have theater tickets,” Callie said, excitement clear in her voice.

  “We do?”

  Callie nodded, smiling. “I booked them months ago.”

  I gaped at her. Had I entered into some kind of bizarre universe? I wanted to go to a bar and Callie, of all people, was declining in order to go to the theater?

  “You haven’t heard what show we’re seeing yet,” Callie said, obviously dying to be asked.

  “What show are we seeing?”

  “Ships Sail.” Callie said the title as if she expected me to burst into cheers. Instead, I stared at my friend blankly.

  “Oh, come on,” Callie said, disappointed. “You know, Ships Sail. The new play starring none other than…” she paused for effect. “Jackson Coles!”

  Meredith gasped. “Oh my God, you lucky bitch!”

  “Wait a second,” I said, staring hard at Callie. “Jackson Coles, the werewolf guy?”

  Callie rolled her eyes. “Only you, Lizzie, would describe the hottest, biggest name in Hollywood as ‘the werewolf guy’.”

  “But that’s who you mean, right? That guy in the Darkness movies?”

  “Of course that’s who I mean.” Callie was clearly getting annoyed that I was not more thrilled at the prospect of seeing a major Hollywood star live on stage. “Lizzie, how do you not know about this play? It’s been all over the news lately.” I raised an eyebrow. “Fine, all over the celebrity news.”

  “Big difference,” I muttered.

  “Yeah, Lizzie, she has a point,” Meredith said, her eyes wide. “This is a really big deal.” She leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice. “This is the play that he goes full frontal, isn’t it?”

  I groaned, finally realizing that I had, in fact, heard about the play. Personally, I had never quite seen the appeal of Jackson Coles, though I had to admit I was in the tiny minority of girls my age who felt that way. Jackson Coles was the big thing, the hottest movie star of the year, and the year before that, come to think of it. He had broken onto the scene in a likely way; the star of a massively popular franchise of paranormal romance films geared toward teens, though, by all accounts, pretty darn popular with women of all ages. And Jackson Coles, with his golden hair, icy blue eyes, and killer British accent, was a huge part of that appeal. My cousin Sofie had dragged me to the theater to see the first movie, Darkness Rise, and that was more than enough to tell me that the Darkness franchise was not my cup of tea. Movies full of vampires, werewolves, and sorcerers were just not my thing, not even if the werewolf in question looked like Ja
ckson Coles. The franchise had started when Jackson was only sixteen, and now, five films later, showed no signs of slowing down. Jackson had further endeared himself to the female population by his current turn in the West End production of Ships Sail, a horribly overwrought script (in my opinion at least) that had the one saving grace of requiring its lead to strip down to the buff. Thus the reason, I was sure, that Callie had purchased tickets months ago in anticipation of our arrival in London.

  “I don’t believe it,” Meredith was saying dreamily. “You’re going to get to see Jackson Coles. Right up close and personal. All of him.”

  “I know!” Callie squealed. “I’m so excited, I can’t even tell you!”

  After the girls fawned over Jackson for a few more minutes, Meredith left us to head back to her dorm. Callie and I started off down the sidewalk toward our own room.

  “I have to say, Lizzie, I thought you’d be a tad more excited about this. You love theater. And they were really hard tickets to get, you know?”

  “I’m sorry, Cal. I just don’t really get the hype about Coles. Isn’t he just another pretty boy?”

  Callie looked scandalized. “He obviously takes his work seriously. I hardly think he’d do a boring old play if he wasn’t a serious actor.”

  Not wanting to hurt my friend’s feelings, I made an effort not to laugh.

  “You’re bummed about missing pub night, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I was really looking forward to going out with a group. I never do stuff like that.”

  “You’re with a group all the time,” Callie argued. “I’ve seen that family of yours.”

  “It’s not the same, Cal. I always just have one or two girlfriends, you know? It would be nice to have a bigger social circle.”

  “You will,” my friend assured me. “We have nine months, Lizzie. And look at how many nice people we’ve already met.”

  “True,” I agreed. I usually had a very hard time relating to the girls in my classes. They seemed to speak a language I didn’t understand, one peppered with celebrity gossip and fashion chatter. It wasn’t that I didn’t have an interest in clothes; I just never understood how someone could think of that many things to say about a handbag. I had been hoping that the girls here, the ones who obviously cared enough about their studies to go through with an expensive and accelerated graduate course, would be enough like me that I’d feel comfortable around them.

  “Come on,” Callie said, putting her arm around my shoulder once more. “It’s not that bad. We get to move into the apartment tomorrow, right? That will be fun.”

  Through my disappointment, I felt a rush of excitement. Moving into the apartment was the thing I was most looking forward to, the thing that would make me feel like I was a real Londoner, and not just a visitor. I couldn’t wait to find our local newsagent, to find the closest Tesco for groceries, the nearest pub to pop into on our way home.

  “You’re right,” I said, smiling at my friend. “Tomorrow is definitely something to look forward to.”

  ***

  “We cannot live here.”

  I felt my stomach sink. “It’s not that bad.”

  Callie spun to face me, a wild look on her face. “Are you kidding me? Not that bad? Lizzie, no. No, no, no. There is no way we’re living here!”

  “But…it’s all arranged! Our stuff will be delivered by this afternoon, and we signed a lease. What are we supposed to do?”

  Callie was breathing hard, staring around at the tiny room. The garden view, two bedroom that had been advertised was, in fact, much more like a basement-level studio with a couple of shoulder-height, rickety partitions to divide the space. Though we had been assured it was fully furnished, all I could see by way of furniture was a cheap folding table in the kitchen area and a couple of glorified cots in what were, presumably, the “bedrooms.” Even with the scarce furniture taking up so little space, I couldn’t see how we could possibly fit all of our things here. Even worse, a dank, sulfur smell seemed to permeate the air, and the relatively few surfaces in the flat were filthy.

  “I’m not doing it,” Callie said decisively. “I’m not staying here.”

  “But…but we signed.” I was feeling panicky now. Money was not nearly the issue for Callie that it was for me. What would I do if we were on the hook for the rent? What better could we find for my scholarship and student loan-funded, paltry budget?

  “It’s false advertisement,” Callie said, crossing her arms. “They can’t show us fake pictures of an apartment and expect us to take it.” Seeing the worry on my face, Callie took my arm and led me to the door. “We are done with this horror of an apartment, Lizzie. Just forget we ever assaulted our senses with it. I’ll call my father. He’ll take care of getting us out of the lease.”

  “That’s all fine and good, but where the heck are we gonna live?”

  “We’ll go apartment hunting,” Callie said dismissively, leading me to the hallway and shutting the door firmly behind us. “It will be fun!”

  I stared at her in disbelief. Fun? We knew nothing about London real estate. How on earth were we supposed to find something? Especially with our budget. But Callie was already pulling out her phone and dialing. “Dad?” she said a moment later as she pulled open the front door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Dad, you will not believe this…”

  I followed her outside, feeling numb. I sank down on the porch steps, watching as Callie walked a few feet away. Though she was out of earshot, by her facial expression and excessive hand gestures, I could tell my friend was really selling the issue to her dad.

  I looked down the admittedly grungy street and sighed. I’d had such high hopes for this apartment. Callie and I had both agreed that we weren’t going to have the authentic London experience if we were living in a dorm miles away from everything. The residential office at the school had given us a list of nearby flats that were within our budget, and I had spent an afternoon emailing back and forth with estate agents, pouring over pictures and maps, until I finally settled on this one. And look at where all that work had gotten me.

  “Okay,” Callie said, slipping her phone back in her purse. “My dad’s on it.”

  “What’s he going to do?”

  “He’s having his secretary call an estate agent, someone he trusts, and he’ll send us a list of acceptable flats within the hour.”

  I felt a growing dismay. “Cal, you know my budget is not very big—”

  Callie waved me off. “He knows our budget. He’ll negotiate with the agents. It will be fine.”

  I had a sinking feeling Mr. Owen was planning on subsidizing the difference in price of a decent place. Before I could voice this concern, Callie was pulling me up from the stoop.

  “Cheer up, Lizzie. You worry too much. Everything is going to be peachy, promise.”

  “Cal—”

  “No arguing. Come on, let’s go get some lunch while we wait.”

  ***

  An hour and a half later, we were climbing the stairs from the Underground at Marylebone station, blinking in the sudden sunlight. After several days of riding on the tube, I still wasn’t used to it. I found it disorienting to hurdle through the damp dark so far below. Coming back to the surface was a shock to the system every time. Most days, I kind of enjoyed the feeling of being so off-kilter; it was a reminder to me that I was trying something new, that I was outside of my comfort zone, just like I’d wanted to be. But after the earlier apartment fiasco, and the distinct lack of fun I’d had since my arrival, I wasn’t feeling so keen on new experiences. For the first time, I was starting to wonder if maybe I should have stayed home after all. London was not what I had expected it to be.

  “Okay, the first place shouldn’t be far. Connie said she picked it because of how close it was to the tube…” Callie peered at the map, not noticing that she was blocking the path of several harried people trying to make their way off the tube. I gently took her shoulder and moved her out of the way, wishing I coul
d have a small amount of my friend’s confidence. Since we’d been in London, I had been terrified of bothering anyone or getting in the way. Cal, while sometimes annoyingly oblivious, obviously didn’t put as much energy into worrying about what people thought.

  “Okay, I think if we head this way…” Callie led the way down the busy street, turning off on a side road, and then another before stopping in front of a gorgeous, red brick mansion. “Callie…” I said, a warning note in my voice.

  “Oh, don’t be such a worry wart. Let’s just check it out.”

  We rang the bell and were buzzed up, meeting a professionally dressed woman outside the apartment door. The mansion appeared to be divided into several apartments, I guessed at least four. The woman introduced herself as the building manager and let us in. My first impression was light. Sunlight poured in from the front windows, brightening the modern decor. Everything in the apartment was clean and minimal, decorated in creams and whites—pale wood floors, white furniture, ivory walls.

  “Oooh, it’s pretty,” Callie cooed.

  “Oooh, it’s expensive,” I shot back. But Callie was already off, exploring the space. “These are proper bedrooms,” she called to me from the hallway off the living room. Sighing, I followed her. The rooms were small, but adequate, plenty of room for a bed, desk, and dresser. We even each had a window.

  “Small closets,” Callie murmured to herself, before testing the mattress on the bed. “Not bad.”

  “Callie—”

  “Let’s see the kitchen.”

  Resigned, I followed her to the kitchen. It, too, was on the small side, but completely adequate, with stainless steel appliances and marble counters. “I love it,” Callie declared.

  “How much?” I asked, facing my friend across the counter.

  “My dad said it was in the budget.” Callie shrugged.

  “Cal, we’re in Marylebone right now. Do you know how ritzy this neighborhood is? There is no way this is in our budget.”