For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) (3 page)

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 of 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 plays 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.”

“I’m sorry I’m keeping you from your family.” He seemed overly sincere in his apology and his eyes were heavy with regret.

I assured him by placing my hand in the air, “Don’t worry, you aren’t keeping me. I’d rather work anyways. I like staying distracted.”

Unsure how to take that, Rhys nodded with his lips pursed and he contemplated it. Tired of talking about myself I asked him about his weekend, and he told me that he caught up with friends and family, that he loved being home in London. It made my apathy towards going home seem like I didn’t care for my family, but he just didn’t understand. Really, it couldn’t be further from the truth. If I could just go home and camp out at my parents, I would. But that wasn’t realistic or fair to others that would want to see me.

“It must be nice to be able to stay in one place after being away from home.”

“Definitely,” he agreed. “Again, it’s nice to be around those that are important to me.”

“Who’s that? I know you mentioned that your parents were divorced.” I surprised myself by asking and regretted it immediately, worried that I seemed nosy.

“Yes, they are. Both live here, so I’m lucky that I get to spend time with them when I’m home. My mother has a cottage in Scotland she visits throughout the year, but she’s home for the summer. I’m closer to her than my father. He wasn’t always supportive of my career choice and there’s lingering tension. I also visit with my sisters, my nieces, and some old friends from school.”

“That’s unfortunate about your dad considering your success.”

“Yeah, well…” he started, but didn’t voice the rest of his thought. He looked outside becoming the quietest I’d seen him as his eyes became vacant. Returning his attention a moment later he added, “It is what it is. I try not to dwell on it.”

Just as he said that his phone rang and looking at the caller ID, he decided it was worth answering. Excusing himself, he walked to the terrace and answered the call. I tried watching him discreetly, witnessing him smirk consistently throughout the conversation.

At one point he laughed loudly and seemed thrilled with whomever he was talking to. I felt slight disappointment and my foolishness quickly turned to guilt and self-annoyance.
Why do you care who he’s talking to?
I shook my head and distracted myself with my cell as he walked back in and our food was delivered.