For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) Read online

  I smiled. “No, of course I’m not offended. I came here to…” I paused, trying to decide how to best avoid some aspects of my past, while also being truthful. “I was trying to get away from home. I needed a new start. Living in London was always on my bucket list and I hoped to travel through Europe. I took a chance in applying and I guess I just got lucky.”

  “I doubt that,” he stated, admiring me momentarily. “Murphy says you’re the best and that he had to convince the program we were worthy of your expertise. Have you traveled since you moved here?”

  “No, not yet. I’d like to go all over but I haven’t made the time.”

  “Ah well, I’ve traveled for work and pleasure; I can make tons of recommendations.” Hearing the word pleasure escape his thin lips sent chills across my skin, resulting in tiny bumps to cover me.

  “We’ll have to discuss it over lunch one of these days,” I said, surprising myself.

  “Yes,” he stated with relief that I was warming up. “That would be lovely.”

  His voice stating the word pleasure was nothing compared to his tone when he said lovely. That word sounded genuine and charming, and I wondered if he was aware of how he came across or if it was just a natural part of his being. We concluded that we would meet Tuesday of next week in the same room and I explained that we’d be focusing on Hamlet’s personality and the themes. He paid attention with an intensity that was beyond dedicated, washing away my doubts that he would slack off.

  When we parted ways, I tried shaking his hand again, but he hugged me instead. It was authentic, not at all forceful, and it took me a few moments before I returned it by patting his back. He then grabbed my hands in his again and said, “Until Tuesday,” before he left me wondering how I was going to get through this unscathed.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I normally walked home to avoid the tube rush hour, but my choice of heels had removed that option. My apartment was off Bond Street station, making it necessary to take two trains to get there from campus. Living near Hyde Park was one of my goals when I decided to move and although it was pricey, it wasn’t impossible with my lack of expenses. The university paid me well enough, making it feasible to afford a one bedroom flat, which was really all I needed. I never had anyone over, and the space was suitable as my escape from the city and the world, too.

  Now that I had seen Rhys in person, it seemed I couldn’t avoid recognizing his face in public. His picture was all over the Tube, even inside the trains, making it impossible to escape his deep gaze on my commute home. Being crammed inside the train didn’t leave many options to entertain one’s self, except to read, look at the ads, people watch, or go on one’s phone. I wasn’t able to get a seat, so I placed my hands around a safety bar and studied his face.

  I could see why women would find him attractive, he was quite handsome. It was unique though, because there were other actors considered more beautiful than him, but there was something that made him flawless and magnetic. He wasn’t extremely built, having a tall and lean figure, perfectly complemented with svelte muscles that proved he was athletic in some way or another. I’d mentally compared him to the beauty of a running horse as I ashamedly noticed the muscles in his forearms earlier.

  His face was traditionally English: a sharp jaw and pointed chin, high cheekbones that people would pay for with his thin nose in between that was slightly thicker at the bridge, yet still refined. And his mouth was gorgeous. His lips were thin and delicate, seeming serious until he smiled, which was constantly. He had showed off the laugh lines around his eyes all day, but what was truly stunning about him were his eyes that provided a gorgeous gaze with a magnetic pull to them.

  Even in the photograph, you could become entrapped by them and have trouble looking away, as I did numerous times during our meeting. I even stared at the slight waves in his hair that swirled in all directions, adding to his understated beauty. Separately, his features were not ideal, but together with his amicable personality, he was beautiful. I’d only just met him and had already witnessed how charismatic he could be.

  My ride was short, but I was still guilty by the end of it. Attractions were impractical, and although it was a natural reaction, it reminded me of the voids in my life. I thought back to Rhys’ question of why I’d moved here, reflecting on the truth as I walked from the station to my apartment in Mayfair.

  I hadn’t told him the whole truth, nor did I feel the need to open up that part of myself to him, or anyone really. The only person in London that knew was John, and that’s because he’d continually tried setting me up with his nephew. I had no choice but to eventually explain in order to avoid seeming ungrateful.

  The second I walked into my apartment I hung up my bag and kicked off my heels, and changing into my sweats rejuvenated me further. As my leftovers heated in the microwave, I went to my desk to power up my laptop and couldn’t help but glance at Aaron’s picture next to it. His face only fueled the guilt ached in my chest all day.

  It was the only picture I’d brought with me, and on some days I was glad to have it and see his features, but on low days, I regretted it. He looked jovial in the shot, a candid one from our first ski trip together, and I couldn’t avoid the remorse that sunk in. I had involuntarily reacted to Rhys’ attraction and I couldn’t help but wonder, what would Aaron think of me?

  Aaron was always on my mind, an inescapable reminder of my troubles. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to erase him, I didn’t. But on some days it was difficult to compartmentalize my feelings and still function in society. Some days, I felt alone in the world, and it made my plan to move and live in another country seem foolish, despite that isolation was my goal. Aaron was the reason for all of this: losing him was too much and my solution was to pack up and leave home.

  I tried staying there for six months after his passing, but losing your high school sweetheart, only months after getting engaged, wasn’t something you could easily or normally move on from. So, I left. I didn’t want any more sympathy, didn’t want to picture Aaron in our apartment, even though he was no longer there; it became unbearable. I would go to our local hangouts and imagine him at my side, instead feeling emptiness in my hand that he used to hold.

  Starting anew in London was the only way out of my personal hell. He’d never been here, and it was easier to start in a place where I didn’t see him at every turn. It was enough that he already haunted my thoughts and dreams. At least the city was empty of that. It was still difficult, and in no way did I want to forget him, but being away made it simpler to live in distraction.

  I didn’t sleep well that night, or any other night that weekend. I had seen Rhys’ face on the news where the anchor discussed the play, proving I couldn’t even escape him in my own home. In reality, I rarely went to bed early, and I often awoke in the middle of the night, every night, since Aaron passed. Two years later and I still wasn’t used to sleeping alone, but I was used to functioning without rest.

  The weekend passed as it always did. I stayed up late, awaking early in the mornings for my runs through Hyde Park, staying in for the rest of it. I had managed to go out and meet a previous student, Sadie. She had taken my Introduction to Shakespeare course during my first semester at the University of London.

  After the semester she continued to correspond with me, insisting that we catch up for lunch every few weeks. I hesitated at first, but she was persistent and was always seeking assistance in her courses. I saw a bit of myself in her, and though it took some pushing, she was my one friend in London. We got along well. She didn’t push me to meet if I couldn’t, and she understood that I had left home for reasons that I didn’t want to discuss.

  She did, on the other hand, want to talk about Rhys nonstop, claiming that I was being selfish with him when I refused to introduce them. The truth was I didn’t want to blur the lines between work and my life, and I also wanted to respect the fact that he was probably bombarded by people everywhere he went. I could only imagine what that kind o
f life was like. I had tried to escape my own bubble of frustration, and there was Rhys unable to live privately at all.

  ∞

  I’d seen Rhys’ face on the Tube again; it seemed the posters had multiplied over the last few days. I’d told myself that I could do this, I could be professional and do what was necessary without complicating matters or my life. When I arrived earlier than expected, I found the campus eerily empty, only a few students here and there since the semester was ending in two days. It was going to be great having four weeks off until the fall semester would begin, and technically I was already on vacation having posted my students’ grades online over the weekend. The only thing that required my focus was Rhys and the play.

  I had been waiting for him in the meeting room, an anxious impatience causing me to tap my pen to a rhythm that would have annoyed me if it were someone else. In manner of distraction, I went to my office to retrieve some additional notes that could help him with Hamlet’s struggles, returning to the room quickly. I just didn’t expect him to be there, and his voice made me jump clumsily. “Good morning.”

  Upon seeing my jolted reaction, he stood up and apologized. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Rhys placed his hand on my arm, smiled and offered me a Starbucks coffee cup. “Here, I brought you a pick-me-up this morning.”

  I took the coffee reluctantly, focusing instead on the skin he’d just touched. It was igniting. “Thank you, that was thoughtful.”

  With a tilt in his lips as he pulled my seat out for me. I took a sip of the coffee and tasted that it was my usual hazelnut blend. Rhys read my thoughts and answered them aloud. “I called John and asked him what you liked.” He seemed pleased that I was satisfied with it. I met his eyes and for the first time since walking into the room, I actually looked at him. Something was different, and after a moment of blatant observing I saw that his hair was no longer ginger, but instead a dark brown. I couldn’t decide which of these was more attractive. He had also gotten it cut, reshaping the shorter sides with a longer top that many soccer players wore.

  “Did you dye your hair?” I asked, so he wouldn’t assume I was checking him out.

  “Yeah,” he laughed, brushing his left hand through his hair like a fifties movie star. “Do you like it?” he asked. His eyes opened wide as he hoped for my approval, and I didn’t understand why he needed it. Something else was different; his eyes were green when Friday they were blue. What the hell? I needed to stop staring at him.

  “It looks nice. Different than Friday, that’s for sure.” I could’ve been warmer in my response, especially since he’d brought coffee, but I also wanted to keep him at arm’s length.

  “Yes. Michael wanted it darker for the role, figured this way I could get used to it. I’m actually a natural blond if you could believe it.” I made a mental note to Google that later.

  “Are your eyes naturally green, too?”

  “That’s a trickier answer. They’re blue, but depending on my hair color, clothes, or even the weather, they can change from green to blue.”

  “Hmm,” I nodded, trying to move on. “Well, let’s get started. Here are some of the materials I think we should focus on for this week.”

  I handed him his binder with topics on Hamlet’s personality, weaknesses and strengths. He continued to watch me intently as I spoke, seeming genuinely interested in me, and what I had to say. Noting my nerves, he looked down at the binder and gave me relief.

  “I’m assuming you’ve read the play, Mr. Edwards—”

  “Rhys, please. And yes, I’ve read it numerous times. I love it. One of Shakespeare’s best in my opinion, at least it’s the best tragedy.”

  “I completely agree.” He was either smart or he’d done his research; either way I was pleased.

  “It’s also the only Shakespeare play that’s been made into a Disney movie.”

  I had to laugh at his adorable, yet accurate observation. “Lion King,” I said, and he beamed with pride that I’d gotten his reference.

  We continued discussing how the play is based on a Scandinavian legend, focusing on how Hamlet was going to grow the most before his untimely death. Before lunch, we managed to stay centered on Hamlet’s internal struggles and strife over the decision to avenge his father’s death or not.

  It proved for interesting conversation that was constantly distracted by his green looking eyes staring back at me. I looked down often and barely managed to stay focused. But I pushed through and told him that he needed to make sure he understood Hamlet’s internal struggles and by doing so it would show externally to the audience.

  “Put yourself in his head… he causes the deaths of many characters throughout the play and doesn’t really know if what he is doing is right or wrong. Is it justice? Is it just to avenge someone when all you are causing is more pain and conflict? This is what you need to keep in mind.”

  “I have to say I love hearing you discuss this. Your passion for it comes through, Ellie,” he interrupted.

  I’ve heard my name endless times before, but there was something about hearing him say it that made it feel like a warm kiss on the neck from a significant other. I liked the way it sounded vibrating through his vocal cords and throat and I found myself staring at his neck and imagining things. Things I hadn’t thought of in a long time. I admit that a part of me liked the way he listened, staring at me as if I were the only thing in the room and the smartest person he’d ever encountered. It was my confidence that made his watch easier because I could talk about Shakespeare all day.

  Yet as he stared I was often mercurial, one moment enjoying the closeness, the next becoming flustered by him. I remembered his hands stroking mine from the last meeting, how strange it was to have left me so lost and distorted. Realizing I had been staring, the room started feeling smaller and I abruptly stood, suggesting that we get lunch just to get fresh air. It didn’t faze him that I was crazy; he stood up and calmly said, “Okay, I know just the place.”

  My attempt to get away from him proved a failure, having completely forgotten that having lunch together would be part of our routine. I told him that I would meet him outside the building so I could get my purse from my office. Once outside, I noticed that he had put on Ray Bans, making him look like he belonged in a magazine. He looked over to me and smiled, gesturing with his hand to the direction we were heading. As we walked I took note of all the students looking at him.

  They recognized and wanted to approach him, especially the girls. Thankfully they left us alone, or at least they left him alone. I, on the other hand, could feel the eyes of every female on campus wondering what Rhys Edwards was doing with me. He walked ahead, his long legs much faster than mine and I was able to study him from behind. He had dressed more casual, wearing dark straight-legged jeans, a chambray fitted shirt, and low brown boots that were both dressy and rugged.

  I wondered if he picked out his clothes or if he had a stylist because he looked so sharp. While I analyzed him, Rhys turned around suddenly and I felt the hot blush warm my cheeks as his smirk crept into his expression.

  “You coming?” he asked, and I nodded and caught up.

  Rhys led me to a small pub near Kings Cross station and requested a booth in the back. He told me that the manager was an old friend from boarding school, and I found it pragmatic that he kept in touch with his non-actor friends.

  He must have found me rude, introverted and bothered about having lunch with him, because I’d continually nodded whenever he shared parts of himself. I needed to make a little more effort, if only because we had four weeks of this to go. We placed our orders and Rhys didn’t hesitate to start a conversation, giving me a chance to be nicer.

  “So, why did you study Shakespeare?”

  That was a topic I could discuss all day, and I was grateful he had started with that. Perhaps he had suspected as much. I told him that I loved reading and felt that Shakespeare was still relevant today, but that most people didn’t know it. Themes from his p
lays are often recycled throughout literature, movies and music, and they habitually resonate with the deepest emotions we deal with daily.

  The topic lead into the controversy of whether Shakespeare actually wrote the plays, to which we both agreed we believed he did. I appreciated that he took an interest in my career and in the work that he would be portraying. He respected it and in turn it made me respect him significantly.

  As we spoke, Rhys stared at me, his lips parted into a soft expression. The constant eye contact and leaning forward was distracting, and I would often have to look away to keep my composure. He was enigmatic, or at least my feelings around him were. They were incomprehensible, and for a know-it-all like me, that was unacceptable.

  “What are your plans for summer break? John mentioned you have a few weeks off.”

  “Besides working with you, I’ll be relaxing. I have some books I’d like to catch up on, some projects. I was considering traveling home, but I think I’ll wait.”

  It was difficult to be social knowing that the more questions he asked, the deeper into my personal secrets I’d have to delve. It became further complicated when I looked up to find him gazing at me with complete interest.

  “Where is home?”

  “New Jersey, close to the city.”

  “Who’s there, if you don’t mind me asking?” He lacked hesitation in his curiosity. If it were up to me I would have sat there in awkward silence.

  “My parents and some close friends.”

  “I always wanted to be an only child. Growing up with two sisters was brutal,” he laughed.

  “Being an only child can be lonely, though. I often wished I had siblings to be there for me.”

  “That’s true, my sisters drove me insane but always took my side. Is there a reason you don’t want to go back yet?”

  I shrugged my shoulders, because I’m avoiding pitiful faces looking back at me. “I miss them, but like the idea of resting. Plus, I’ll be working with you for most of my break, only having one week off, and the flights aren’t worth it. It’s time consuming and expensive.”