For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) (8 page)

I cleared my throat and nodded, certain he had just witnessed my staring.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” I paused, still recovering from his sudden conversation. “I expected you to be smug, more celebrity like.”

“And I’m not, right?”

“Nope, you’re very kind, Rhys.”

I loved saying his name, despite my initial hesitation. It felt like I owned it when it passed my mouth, like he was just a little bit mine. I knew he loved hearing it on my lips, too, because he smiled uniquely every time. His blue eyes were especially green under the overcast London sky. So piercing I had to look away from the intensity that seeped through them. It was too much, giving the sensation that I was the only person in the world, but I wasn’t. He had many in his world, and I was just Ellie Reed, his teacher for the play. Yet there he was, looking at me like that. I was obsessed with his gaze, only starting to remember what it was like to be looked at in that way.

I felt beheld by him, possessed just from his look. His eyes revealed everything he felt, too, laughing as he did, joy outpouring from them, causing tiny crow's feet on the outer corners that made him even more beautiful. I could also note their displeasure when I broke eye contact, breaking a bit of his heart in the process. He had to have known, even then, how they revealed his heart. He must have known how they affected me, and I wondered if it was unique to me, or if he demonstrated it for others, too.

“I try to be,” he said breaking my trance. “But I find it easier with you.”

As he said this, large, heavy drops started to fall at a sudden pace and like some perfectionist lunatic my first thought was to yell, “The binders!”

We collected our things quickly and started running out of the park. “Where to?” he yelled ahead of me.

“My place?”

∞

No one had been to my apartment since I moved to London. No one, yet there I was about to let
Rhys Edwards
into my flat. By the time we got to my stairs we were soaked from sprinkles that turned into a torrential downpour. I took two steps at a time, and the closer we got to my door, the tenser I became realizing that he was going into my home.

Not only was he the first one, but he was the first man to be alone in my home with me since Aaron. I began worrying I’d made a mistake suggesting my place, but there was no way to back out at that point. At the last step I took a deep breath, hoping he suspected the cause to be our running, and not from my loads of anxiety.

Fumbling with my keys at the door, I looked up into his eyes. He was staring at my body in the most carnal way, in a way I liked but wasn’t ready for. I don’t think he expected me to catch him and I noticed his shirt was soaked against his chest, outlining the hint of muscles beneath it. Without looking at my own, I remembered I was wearing a white shirt, one that was completely see-through revealing my bra and ample chest. This was way worse than the sports bra. He saw me putting the pieces together in my mind and looked back up at my eyes. Rhys Edwards may have been a gentleman, but he was still a man.

“I need a three minute head start,” I shrugged apologetically.

Closing the door behind me, I rushed through my flat to make sure there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around. I threw my lobster pajamas and childhood stuffed animal into my closet, running in circles to double-check everything else. As I assessed the kitchen, Rhys peeked his head through and asked, “Can I come in now?”

“Yeah, thanks for waiting.”

After setting the basket on my counter, Rhys began unbuttoning his shirt and, mortified, I had to look away. In my peripheral I could see his undershirt, so I relaxed a bit and looked at him again. Tortuously sexy in his undershirt, Rhys made eye contact. “Can you possibly put this in your dryer?”

I stared at his strong, but subtle arm muscles, and the ones underneath his skin-tight shirt. “Yeah,” I muttered idiotically, heading to my room to get him one of my larger pajama shirts. “Here, give me that one too and I can throw both in. I’ll be right back.” After closing my bedroom door, I changed into dry clothes, partially as an escape to hide from seeing him shirtless.

When I returned to the living room, I saw him wearing my old
Wicked
shirt on my way to the dryer. I liked seeing him in my clothes, in my flat, in my space. I was obviously losing it. Rhys was on the floor starting to take out all of our food when he looked up, and said, “I figured we’d eat before continuing to practice.”

“You know we can sit on the table,” I said gesturing towards my small dining area.

He looked at me like I was insane. “Obviously not, Ellie. It’s a picnic.” I laughed. He was so adorable. “Well,” he shrugged. “It was supposed to be.”

While we ate I watched Rhys glancing around my apartment trying to process the little bits of my personality. I had lots of colored furniture, with blankets laid around, and art on every wall. It was actually quite personal despite that I’d only lived there a year. I had made it a home with the intention of moving forward in the space. He was shocked when I confessed he was the only person to have seen my flat.

“Really?” he said, his tone fluctuating in curiosity. “I feel special now.”

“Well, we didn’t have anywhere else to go in a hurry.”

Disappointment removed his grin and I regretted my comment, but I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, and I was protecting my own feelings. A few minutes passed in silence and as I finished up, Rhys got up suddenly to investigate my three bookshelves. He placed his hands in his pockets, looking rather silly in my baggy shirt, though he fit right into the space. Browsing the titles, he commented on authors he had read or ones he would like to. When he turned around, he caught my watchful eye and smirked. “Which is your favorite?”

“I can’t pick a favorite child, that’s cruel.”

“Oh come on,” he continued grinning.

“Too many, but I love
To Kill a Mockingbird
.”

His eyes lit up, and I couldn’t understand why until he explained, “You know it’s playing at Regent Park Open Theatre through September. We should go.”

“I didn’t know actually,” I said, ignoring his suggestion.

As much as my heart floated upon his invitation and the idea of going together, I wouldn’t. He noted my hesitance, left it alone and returned towards the sofa. As I washed my dish and hands, I eyed him perusing through his binder, looking up at my desk, and spotting Aaron’s picture. I knew the moment his eyes spotted the love of my life, and I wished I’d put it away, but only for a second. Rhys respected the picture, its intimacy and immediately looked back at his binder. I sighed internally and mentally thanked him for not saying anything.

We ran lines for another two hours and it wasn’t too bad having him in my home. My space didn’t feel invaded, the company was nice, and he fit in well enough to bring awareness to a longing for company I didn’t know I had. At around two, he got up and brought me my purse. “Take out the Paris books,” he said.

As I watched him read on my sofa, I could only feel warmth. He seemed at home there, comfortable as the rain fell against the three windows to his back. We discussed places I should visit, particularly Shakespeare & Company, a famous bookstore near the Cathedral, and he continued to insist that I stay at his place and let him guide me.

After what I’d been through, I definitely needed a vacation. In a way, moving to London had become a get-away of sorts, and it didn’t really feel like home yet. But with Rhys in my apartment it started to. I could sense the comfort from his company, the ease of conversation with him, and I rather liked the idea of him coming back.

An hour into discussing Paris he realized the time and said he had to go. He changed his shirts in the bathroom, causing me to suspect he noted how awkward I had become, and returned my shirt newly possessing his citric and rain-like scent. Walking to the door, he turned around so abruptly my hands ended up on his chest. I self-consciously pushed away, separating our bodies to notice a playful grin curling up his mouth.

“I almost forgot to tell you, I’m having John and Michael for dinner on Saturday and I’d like you to come as well.” He instantly perceived the hesitation on my face and pointed. “You have to say yes, it’s for work.”

His green eyes begged me to agree. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

“Really?” I nodded. “Brilliant.” He hugged me then, a little longer than his other embraces, a little closer too. Before separating, he spoke softly into my ear. “See you Saturday.”

My apartment never felt emptier than when he walked out.

∞

Rhys had texted me later that night saying dinner would be at his house and that he would send a driver to pick me up. He also mentioned that they were dressing up for dinner.

Me: So make sure I look good?

Rhys: You always do.

And because of his simple compliment, I chose a new dress that was casual, but gorgeous. With sheer chiffon from my chest to my waist, it flared out into a pale blue pleated skirt, and covered my shoulders with lace daisies. I’d been excited when I purchased it, and now that I would be wearing it for him I couldn’t wait for him to see it, even wearing my hair in a braided bun to show off the design.

Rhys’ driver, Bruce, picked me up and as I sat in the back of the black Jaguar, I took note of how much my life was changing. Two weeks before, I was a different person, a hermit really, and now I was Rhys Edwards’ friend, on my way to his house. That in itself was surreal let alone the fact that I was falling for him, like every other woman in the world. I didn’t know who I’d become in just fourteen days, and what Aaron would think of me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I thought of myself.

It didn’t take long to see that we were heading towards Primrose Hill, a posh area of London popular among celebrities. His neighborhood was gated, each house bigger than the next, yet still retaining their English charm. My breath hitched when Bruce turned into Rhys’ front yard, and although it wasn’t the biggest house, it was stunning. I was greeted to a white, two-storied house with a bright red double door. The door was gigantic and intimidating, and after knocking it, it felt like I had waited forever for him. I knew this wasn’t a date, far from it, but my anticipation would have argued otherwise. My hands were clammy, my skin flushed, and it worsened when he opened the door.

His eyes met mine and lit up, becoming watery enough to prove I affected him. I knew the feeling; whenever Rhys was around my smile was prevalent no matter how much I attempted hiding it. I blushed, my stomach in a tight knot as he assessed my appearance from head to toe, and the longer he stared, the more I assumed I had a stain on my outfit, or lipstick on my teeth, anything that would explain his hypnotic stare.

He cleared his throat and clumsily said, “You look lovely.”

Self conscious, but completely delighted, I looked down and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Please, come in. I’m thrilled you’re here first. I want to show you around.”

Rhys extended his hand towards me to help me step in. I had worn my unstable nude pumps, but I gladly took his hand for other reasons. It was soft and warm, and my nerve endings charged upon his touch. Holding it felt intimate given his celebrity status, but especially since I hadn’t held a man’s hand in two years. He released it nervously once inside and I couldn’t help appreciating that someone that confident was unraveled by having me in their home.

“You look nice, too,” I offered hoping to ease the tension, but I meant it.

Rhys always looked so at ease in his own skin. He was wearing perfectly tailored black dress pants with a white shirt beneath a black and gray cardigan. It was strikingly handsome on him, and he grinned like a pleased adolescent. I couldn’t get enough of it.

He looked back at me. “How about a tour?”

If I thought the house was beautiful outside, I had no idea what was coming. His living and media area was surrounded by plain white walls, but the floors were high caliber dark wood that matched the beams on the ceiling. It gave a rustic and cozy feel to the house only exemplified by the bookshelves in every room. I was tempted to scour the titles, but he kept leading me to another room with more bookshelves and pieces of himself. The kitchen was modern, again with all white cabinets, and top of the line appliances.

When we went upstairs, Rhys held my hand again and it invigorated my heart, making it beat faster, the pressure tightening in my chest deliciously. He led me to his room, anxiety taking over that I was going into his bedroom, but it was so cozy, my tension melted away. The beams matched the ones downstairs, leading up to arched ceilings and a small skylight above his king-sized bed.

I had simultaneous thoughts of what he looked like in that bed, and how lonely it must be to have all that empty space. But maybe only someone with my past would think of that. After showing me his closet and bathroom that were too large for one person, he lead me to the guest rooms and his office, all of which had bookshelves in them crowded to capacity.

“You have so many…” I said, brushing my hand against the spines.

“I collect them. I figure they’re snapshots of who I was when I read them - a sort of time capsule.”

I didn’t respond, instead admiring him in his own element, enjoying the fact that he studied me during the entire tour. I knew he was processing my impression, and I’d decided his house suited him perfectly. It was elegant and refined, but welcoming, just like him. The doorbell rang and brought us out of our stare. “That’ll be the boys,” he said, leading me back downstairs. Rhys showed me to his yard where I sat and waited for their return.