I pulled my scarf up higher and said to him, “The smell of the beer—I can’t.” I pointed at the door, so he knew I was going back outside.
He put his hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “Don’t worry; we’ll go upstairs. It’ll be much better up there.”
He grabbed my fingers and brought me through another door, leading to an extremely steep staircase, and I squeezed him, using his help to get up.
“Better?” he asked at the top.
I took a quick sweep around, not seeing a single pint on any of the waitresses’ trays, and lowered my scarf, carefully inhaling. “Much.”
A hostess was standing a few feet away, and Oliver held up two fingers. She nodded, understanding the signal, and brought us over to a table by the window.
“Still or sparkling?” she asked, placing menus in front of us.
“Sparkling,” he told her. “We’re in a bit of a rush; would it be okay if we ordered?”
I appreciated him now more than ever, and so did my stomach.
“Go ahead,” she replied.
“Could we have a traditional meat pie and chips and also the fish and chips? We’ll share both.”
She took our menus and left our table, and within a few seconds, someone else arrived to fill our glasses with the bubbly water. I brought the small tumbler up to my lips and swallowed. But it wasn’t until the glass hit the rim of my sunglasses that I realized I still had them on.
The thought of taking them off, knowing what I looked like underneath, made me hurt even worse.
I set the drink down. “I can’t believe you’re seeing me like this.” I slowly took off the sunglasses, running my fingers under my eyes to catch the fallen and smudged makeup. “I didn’t think I’d see anyone I know … and now, oh God, I’m just sorry you have to look at me in this state.”
When my skin felt as clean as it was going to get, I looked up at him. And when I did, I felt all the air leave my body.
“Chloe … you’re absolutely gorgeous.”
Heat moved across my face as though there were a vent in the ceiling above my head. But there wasn’t. The room was almost too cold.
I pressed the back of my hand against my cheek, cooling the red that I knew was growing across it.
And before I needed to think of a response, he said, “Tell me about where you’re from.”
I was hoping the change in conversation would make my stomach relax, but the way he was smiling at me was causing just the opposite to happen. “I’m a junior at Boston University, and I live with my best friend, Molly, in an apartment in the city. I’m an only child. My parents are still back in my hometown, and they work at a processing yard.”
“Processing?”
I took a drink, the smell of the food from the nearby tables actually making me hungry. “I’m from an area that’s known for lobstering. It’s Dad’s job to weigh the lobsters when they come off the fishermen’s boats. Mom’s the bookkeeper, so she pays the lobstermen whatever they’re owed.”
“That’s Maine life?”
I was so impressed he’d remembered where I was from.
“Pretty much.” I shrugged and peeked out the window, seeing all the busyness below. “Home is quiet and casual, very slow-paced.”
I glanced back at him. He was running his fingers through his beard.
I didn’t know why I found it so fascinating, why I couldn’t drag my eyes away, so I pushed myself to keep talking. “Boston is hectic and exhilarating. A lot like London. I think that’s why I love it here already.”
He made me want to move my own hands and wiggle in my chair and smile because I had no idea what else to do with my lips. But I did everything in my power to stay still.
“Tell me about you, Oliver.”
“I’m in my final year. I’ve been living with the same mates since I started school here. I’m from Manchester, a city about two hundred miles away. I’ve got three sisters, and I’m the youngest. Mum is a nanny; Dad works at the bank.”
“Three sisters?” I felt my eyes widen. “That explains a lot.”
His head turned a little to the side, giving me more of his profile. “Why’s that?”
I had surprised myself by saying something, and now, I just had to be honest. “I get the feeling you really know women,” I admitted. “Makes sense, considering you’ve been surrounded by them your whole life. Your sisters trained you well.”
It was no wonder he was so charming. How he’d learned to use his smile and his eyes to his advantage with three girls and a mother he needed to please.
When he laughed, it only proved my point further. “If you ever meet them, please tell them that.” His hand went to his hair, brushing it back and forth, the longer locks landing in a messy pattern that looked absolutely perfect on him.
My heart was beating so fast in my chest; I could feel it in the back of my throat. “You’re forgetting something really important.”
“Yeah?”
His grin returned.
And I felt it … everywhere.
I gripped my glass with both hands. “You can smell where people are from before they even speak,” I said, referring to when we’d met in class.
He laughed again, but this time was different. It was deeper, and his eyes never left me. “Not with everyone, Chloe.”
He said nothing else, and it was the unknown that was exciting. That was an advantage Oliver had—he knew when to stay quiet, making my mind explode with questions.
Before I had a chance to ask any, our waitress delivered two plates to the center of our table. One had several pieces of fried fish with peas that had been whipped into what looked like guacamole and a basket of fries. The other had a mini potpie with crust covering the top, the meat inside smelling so savory.
The waitress came back a few seconds later with more fries and a bottle of vinegar and said, “Can I get you anything else? Something else to drink perhaps?”
“No, thank you,” I responded, and Oliver said the same.
“Eat up; you’ll feel better,” he told me once we were alone. “If you’ve never had chips with salt and vinegar, you’re about to love it.” He lifted the bottle and was drizzling it over both baskets.
“It’s the way I grew up eating them.”
Although the practice wasn’t common in Boston, it was where I was from, so I didn’t find it strange at all. I squirted some ketchup onto a plate and dragged a fry through it before popping it in my mouth.
“Mmm,” I groaned from behind my hand as I chewed. “These are delicious.” I lifted my fork and went for the peas next. I’d seen them on every menu since arriving in London, but I hadn’t dared to order them yet. “Wow.” I chewed, surprised by how rich they tasted. “These are great.”
“First time trying peas?”
“This style, yes.” I pointed at the fish and chips. “That I’ve had, of course.” I moved to the pie, stabbing my fork about an inch back. “This one is completely new.” Once I had the utensil all the way through, I pulled it toward me and scooped up the bite.
I didn’t just connect with his stare as I surrounded the fork with my lips. I felt it deep within me, even as I chewed when I moved the deliciousness around in my mouth.