And right now, I don’t want that.
I want the distraction of people. I want noise and chatter to drown out my thoughts.
I walk a little farther and find the perfect place—The Queens Arms. I go into the pub, quickly absorbing the vibe coming from within it. The place is packed. There are groups of men sitting at tables, couples at the bar, parties of friends all gathered together. Normally, I would hate sitting at the bar alone. I would hate not being out with, well, anyone. But this afternoon, I couldn’t be more thankful for it. Because for the next three weeks, I’m never going to be alone.
Back home, my dad’s always at work. Mom is out in the city, at some function or another. It’s normally just me. We do dinners together, but that’s about it. Sometimes, we will go to the park over the weekend or out for brunch, but they’re typically planned events. Planned time. And I already know from the warmth of the Williams’ home that it is lived in. That they spend a lot of family time there together.
I smile at the bartender and order a cider. He looks me over, and I half-wonder if he’s going to ask for my ID, but he simply pulls out a pint glass and turns on the tap. I try not to let out a visible sigh of relief as he sets the pint onto the bar. I pay him and then look around, trying to find an open table.
Or even an open seat.
I walk farther into the pub and am struck by the thick wooden beams that match the wraparound bar. I squeeze past a group of men talking about an upcoming football match—which to the British, means soccer—and smile to myself. I finally spot an open seat farther down the bar that’s perfect.
I sit down, take a few large gulps of cider, and enjoy the fruity taste lingering in my mouth.
This is exactly what I needed. Time alone to relax and unwind.
“Excuse me, miss,” a loud voice says from over my shoulder, causing me to roll my eyes.
Honestly, can I not have just a minute to myself?
“Miss?” I say, frustrated, turning toward the voice. I meet the gaze of a cute boy, whose blue eyes narrow in on me.
“I have to ask you,” he says, “is that cider you’re drinking?”
“Yeah. Why?” I ask, perplexed.
“Why? Well, this matters a great deal actually, for two main reasons,” he says, grinning. His light-blue eyes are set against short blond hair, and he cocks his head at me.
“Really?” I say, biting my lip so he isn’t encouraged by me smiling. “And why’s that?”
“Well, firstly, cider is absolute shit, and it should be thrown out immediately,” he says seriously, moving in a little closer.
I can smell beer on his breath, and I can already tell he’s one of those boys who likes putting on a show.
“And if I won’t do that?” I question.
“Well then,” he says, leaning on the bar and setting his pint down next to mine, “we’ve made it to my second point. Which is, if you’re going to drink cider—which, again, I point out is fucking terrible—then you must counteract it by not drinking it alone. So, here I stand before you, your moral support for the task.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, obviously pleased with himself. And I can’t help but smile along with him.
“Oh, I see. You’ve come to my rescue then?” I take another sip of the supposedly fucking terrible cider, which I’m actually enjoying.
“I’m no knight in shining armor. The opposite really. I was hoping you’d rescue me. You see those lads over there?” he says, pointing over his shoulder to a table in the corner. A few guys are sitting around it, and at least a half-dozen empty pints decorate their table. “They’re a terrible time, and I was hoping you might take pity on me.” He pouts, giving me sad puppy-dog eyes.
And I want to give in, but I know exactly what he’s doing.
“You’re a charmer,” I admit, but I pull back a little.
“And you aren’t having any part of it, are you?” he says, a laugh escaping his lips. His mood lightens, and he turns back to look at his friends.
I take in his button-down shirt, how it’s rolled at the sleeves and how the top button is undone. This guy isn’t bulky, but he isn’t thin either. He’s the perfect combination of put together yet adorably undone.
He looks like trouble.
But he looks fun.
And fun is exactly what I need right now.
Keep Reading The Exchange.