For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) (2 page)

I froze. I hadn’t expected him to be this way or to immediately like him. The longer I stared into his eyes, the more I could see not just their beauty, but their kindness exuding from the crystal blue irises that stared back at me. Instantly, I felt at ease as they gave off the sincerest honesty I’d ever felt from another person. But there was also a discomfort in my heart that came with that momentary peace.

“I’m really excited to work together,” he said, still holding my hand in his, bringing me out of my hypnotic trance. I became hypocritically aware that Mr. Murphy’s proximity had bothered me, yet Rhys’ left me calm and thrilled. I wasn’t sure I was okay with that, or if I really understood it. If anything it left me curious for more.

Blinking out of it, I responded. “Yes, me too,” and despite my earlier apprehensions, I meant it.

∞

After the inelegant introductions, we began discussing the themes of the play and the production’s goals. Mr. Murphy said that Rhys would be taking on the role of Hamlet as no one had before, claiming it would be the darkest, most passionate performance anyone had seen. When Murphy said this, Rhys smiled bashfully and looked up at me from his script. He lifted his eyelids very slowly, directing his gaze at mine to see my reaction to Murphy’s claim. His eyes were so blue, gorgeous and hypnotic to the point that I couldn’t look away and had to force myself. I curled my lips up, smiling softly in return, and darted my eyes back to my script until Murphy and John dismissed themselves shortly after.

I was confident in my abilities, but a quiet apprehension settled into my voice. Being alone with him shouldn’t have left me unraveled, but it did. It was disappointing that I’d allowed myself to be affected by him that way. But with his eyes on me, I couldn’t avoid it. I hoped it would dissipate if I spoke and keep us occupied, but it didn’t.

“So, as we discussed we’ll be meeting biweekly for four weeks until the show starts,” I said, as he acknowledged with a nod. “I figured since we are only meeting eight times, we could work with each other from nine until four and take an hour break for lunch around noon. Would that work for you?”

“Sounds quite perfect. I’d very much like to take you to lunch though. It’s the least I can do since you’ll be helping me.”

That man expelled only compassion and sincerity from his expression. His kind-hearted persona was borderline mesmerizing while holding the possibility of being annoying. It was impossible to resist looking at him because he was being so nice.

“That’s not necessary, Mr. Edwards—”

“Rhys,” he cut me off. “And, I insist.” He paused and straightened up in his chair, a self-deprecating laugh escaping his thin lips. “Unless you want a break from me.”

“No,” I shamed at my refusal. “That’s not it at all. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated. I am getting reimbursed for this.”

“I know, but I’d like to anyway. Please?”

I shrugged my shoulder, smiled gently, and gave in. “Okay.”

The silence returned to the room and I wasn’t sure how to continue. I didn’t feel like myself; normally I was awkward, it was simply a part of my personality. But what I had a difficult time grasping was the simultaneous displacement and complacency I had around him.

The unfortunate part was that my surprise was coming across as rude and he was diligently trying to be polite and friendly. Whenever he looked over to me, I felt on edge, but also as though he shared a comfort that was reserved for a friend he’d had for years. Maybe it was his good looks that left me unsettled, although I had made an effort to avoid noticing them. But in truth, he was rather nice to look at.

“Well,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “Why don’t we talk about ourselves a little today, and start working on the play during our next meeting? I think that would help us work better. I know it would make me feel more comfortable, and I’d love to know more about you, too.”

He waited for my reply for what felt like forever. What was there to say? I think Rhys sensed my hesitance because he broke the silence by talking about himself instead. I assumed it was a habit he picked up from interviewing over the years. “I can start if it makes it easier.” He paused. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to know?”

I shrugged again, acting disinterested, but secretly curious.

“Okay…Well, I was born and raised in London. My parents are divorced, Father’s from England, Mum’s from Scotland. I spent my summers there from age five to twenty-one. I studied acting because I wanted to travel and create art, though I cannot draw, sculpt or paint. I’m horrid at creating things with my hands, so instead I create art on film and sometimes through music…”

He paused to see if I was paying attention to his facts and smirked when he confirmed that he’d attracted my attention. How could I not pay attention to him? He was so beautiful, smart, classy and kind. I pictured his face next to the word
kind
in the dictionary, because he was the epitome of sweet. I never expected for a celebrity to be so pleasant and down to earth, but it was refreshing to witness. I had heard from female coworkers that he was incredibly intelligent and acclaimed for his good manners. I didn’t believe in gossip, but seeing it first hand, I was pleasantly convinced.

He continued, “I love Shakespeare’s work because it’s old, but not dated. It has themes we still deal with today and the humor has surpassed the test of time.” He stopped, joining his hands and leaning across the table, closer to me. “Can you tell me about yourself now? Do my revelations make it easier? I’m sorry if you’re nervous, but I promise I’m quite normal…well, except for a few quirks.”

“It’s fine. I’m not uncomfortable with your fame. To me you’re just another person.” His eyebrows rose, silently interrupting me. Intrigued, he turned his lips up and his face formed a curious expression. “What would you like to know?” I asked, hoping that it would make things easier. I rarely opened up since moving to London because I was keeping myself from forming unnecessary attachments for two years now, but I had to be polite.

“Why don’t you tell me how you came to live in London and work at this prestigious British department as an American?”

My face quickly revealed that this was not something I wanted to talk about and I looked away. He noticed, placing his hand in the air and saying, “I don’t mean to offend you as an American, trust me. I just mean that you must be very good for us prideful Brits to take you on at one of our top universities.”

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.