LAD: A British Bad Boy Romance Novel (Bad Boys of London Book 1) (13 page)

“I need a drink,” I heard an American girl say and spun my head around. It wasn’t Hayley.

I pushed further through a crowd milling around the theater, making sure to investigate inside every pub I walked beside.
 

“You had, like, three beers in there,” another shrill American girl whined. They seemed to be following me.

“I need more than beer. I want a real drink. C’mon, guys, please. I sat through the stupid musical.”

“You loved the musical,” a new voice, a sweet one. “I’ve had too much champagne already, but you guys go ahead.”
 

The champagne that myself and Hayley had finished at the table: I shouldn’t have had the last few glasses then maybe I wouldn’t find myself in this intoxicated, desperate search for some stupid girl.

“Did you see that wine bar a few blocks up, Ako?”

Clip-clop, clip-clop.
 

They still followed behind me.

“No more Maps, please God. Look, Hayley’s been finding her spontaneity. Theatre-nerd herself even refused to join us tonight. Now it’s your turn. Go in here.”

Hayley? I spun. The three girls entered into some gin bar full of mostly older couples. I stared in through the window from across the street, watching them cozy up on a love seat. Hayley appeared uncomfortable the way she shifted in her seat. She’d borrowed that dress. She only wore it to impress me. It had worked.

The first goal accomplished: Find Hayley. My next step would prove more challenging: Never let her go again.

I found sanctuary and a good vantage point in the building that faced the gin bar. But I didn’t know I’d be waiting hours for the girls to go. Each one of them finished cocktail after cocktail, even Hayley who loosened up with every drop of liquor that passed her lips. I felt like scolding her for getting so drunk, letting occasional men come and go from their table. I soon realized by the torn napkins in front of me how frustrated it made me. And, being completely mortal myself at this point, I started feeling vengeful towards her.

“Lonely night, huh?” said a waitress with big fake tits and lips. This would be easy.

Our sex was fast and hard, and I had to cover her mouth to muffle her pleasured wailing from the bathroom stall. I needed someone to take out this rage on, this jealously toward all the men conversing with my Hayley. Once we were done, I found my composure again and the waitress was glowing.

I returned to my seat by the window.
 

“Another?” she asked with a playful grin.
 

“Scotch. Whatever you think best.” I lit a cigarette and gazed out the stained-glass window, occasionally thumbing through my book pretending I could comprehend any sentence in this state. But I had the inability to focus, moreover, the inebriation I felt utter guilt for fucking that girl. It felt like I’d cheated Hayley. The fuck was I doing?

My drink arrived. I took a sip.

Loud giggles echoed around the street. The girls left the bar, with an extra gentleman attached to the brunette, Kristen I think her name was. In a panic, I slapped my glass away sending it crashing to the floor.

“Hey!” The waitress stormed after me as I exited. “You didn’t pay!”

I shooed by hand to her, left and trailed after them again.

Their journey ended at Pembroke House— a passable boutique hotel for someone on a budget. In front of the hotel, the girls stopped, apparently for the dark-haired one and her date to have a smoke.
 

Then a crowd of more rowdy kids, drunk on their night out stumbled by.
 

“Can I borrow a light?” Kristen asked the group instead of her date. From where I stood, I could only guess that she did, in fact, have her own, but was attempting to engage the raucous group in conversation.

Hayley stood at the sidelines with her other friend, both of them bent over and giggling about something I wish I could know.

“You ain’t from here,” one of them said.
 

“We’re on vacation. The Asian girl, Ako, chimed in and wedged herself in between two of them, pulling Hayley into the fray with her. Hayley went quiet and that pleased me. I wished that she would excuse herself and go up to her room, but she remained still.

“You should come with us.” The tall one of the group spoke this directly to Hayley. My ears went hot, but I couldn’t take care of it in the same way I did the last one.
 

“I am way too drunk, dude. And, girls, we have a long day tomorrow.” Good. He was a good looking lad, this one. She resisted well.

“No! You’re breaking my heart. It’s still early,” he protested. I wanted to tear his head from his shoulders. “It’s too early to call it a night. The sun isn’t even up yet.”

“Guys, c’mon, I’m tired.”

“Can I give you my number, at least?” he asked. Don’t do it, Hayley.

“Um…” She looked to her friends with a coy smile, then to the entrance of the hotel, then out into the empty street in my direction while she contemplated his request. “Sure. Why not?”

I froze.

— 15 —
 

We filed into the Globe theater. I cried a little bit. Another dream had come true. The vast yet compact space of the theater featured balconies that were stacked upon one another, overlooking the bare stage. It was a minimalist production of Hamlet, that much I could tell, but I loved Shakespeare no matter how it was performed. Ako and Kristen didn’t know much about Shakespeare, but I could tell how excited they were. This place was a part of history and it felt magical to be allowed to be a part of it and with such a good view too.

We could have gotten seats in one of the boxes high above us but instead chose to enjoy the performance like true Elizabethans and stand in the groundlings section. This was a large space right in front of the stage where you stood throughout the show. It was going to be an endurance race for this four-hour performance of one of Shakespeare’s greatest plays. I could handle it. Kristen on the other hand, I wasn’t so sure.

The anticipation mounted as the trumpet sounded and a flag was raised above the stage, signaling that the play was about to begin. The theater was shady and cool inside, although you could see the sun shining bright overhead.
 

“This is so exciting!” Ako said. She never studied theater but being an avid reader meant she had some familiarity with the plays. Kristen chewed her gum, not entirely sold on the idea of standing here for a number of hours, but I could tell the trumpet sparked some excitement in her little ADHD brain.

I clutched my program in my hand as the first actors appeared on the stage.
 

“Who’s there?” The soldier on guard asked.
 

“Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.” The other guard replied.
 

These were the famous first lines of Hamlet, and I was hearing them in none other than the most famous Shakespearean theater in the world. I had goosebumps.
 

The play moved along at a fever-clip. Hamlet himself finally arrived on the stage, with his blonde hair and trim physique. His lines were expertly spoken, and the grief and passion of his portrayal were palpable. I watched a real person up there — the classical Hamlet — right before my very eyes, or it felt like it anyway. I developed a temporary crush on this actor’s gift…Until I thought of Felix and the romance was gone.

Would he be here watching me from the stalls above us? Or back in his hotel suite, with me nothing but a looming memory of the night prior?

“Damn it,” I complained and stomped my foot.

“What’s up?”

I shook my head, soon enveloped in the play all over again when I realized he wouldn’t ruin this for me.

Hamlet’s evil stepfather was incredibly convincing, and his wayward mother wore extraordinary gowns dripping in costume jewels and finery. What I wouldn’t give to be a part of it all.
 

Then came Hamlet’s first speech, “Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt.” He spoke directly to the hushed audience, as though they were his best friends, his helpers, and his allies. There was even a moment where I thought he looked directly at me, and I blushed.

Ophelia appeared onstage— A character that fascinated me as a little girl. The sweet Ophelia who kills herself at the end due to madness brought on by the loss of her father and brother, and all because of her love of Hamlet. The actress had reddish hair, not unlike my own. We even had the same stature, I noticed. I identified with her immediately. I longed to be up there performing that part.

She was sweet and innocent at this point in the play, doting on her father and listening to his stern words about staying away from Hamlet. She tried to share her concealed love with her brother, but he too admonished against it.
 

“To be, or not to be, that is the question.” Hamlet said with soft agony. He recited the speech with such ease and pain, but I knew what was coming next.
 

It was my favorite scene of all: The Nunnery scene. This was when Hamlet famously pretends to be mad and terrorizes Ophelia because he believes that she is part of some plot.
 

I leaned in and whispered to Ako. “My favorite part.” I was still gripping my program and I could see that she was doing the same.
 

“Yes, so good.”

“Shhh!” An elderly woman scolded from behind us.
 

“Good my lord, How does your honor for this many a day?” Ophelia said through a forced smile. She knew her father was spying on the whole interaction. She was being used as a pawn.
 

“I humbly thank you; well, well, well.” Hamlet replied, immediately catching wind of what was going on. I instantly felt frightened for poor Ophelia, heartbroken over Hamlet’s pain and the horrible position these lovers now found themselves in.
 

I looked around the audience and noticed that I had somehow created some distance from my friends. Had I moved in closer? Did someone go to the restroom? The crowd was packed down in the groundlings, so it made sense that we got separated. But it was then that I felt a hand gently take mine and lead me from the hushed crowd.

“No, I don’t wanna see you today,” I whispered.

I couldn't break free since I didn’t want to make a scene.

Out through a tiny exit door, I could see no one else in the audience was paying attention to what was going on. They couldn’t see anything beyond the images of Hamlet throwing Ophelia around the stage, and they couldn't hear anything aside from her screams and Hamlet’s tears.
 

An empty exit hallway housed my anger for him in this moment. Felix’s hand gripped my arm.
 

“Are you honest?” I heard Hamlet say on the stage.

“You think you can get me to open up like then get some other guy’s number,” Felix said. He looked so angry.

“How dare you? Now? You chose to do this now? You know what this play means to me.” I snapped and shoved him backwards. “I’m going back in there.”

“I loved you not.” Hamlet could still be heard from the hallway. His anger was matching the intensity of Felix.
 

“I was the more deceived.” Ophelia’s cried. A tear began to form in my eye too. I was confused by what was going on. I felt overwhelmed. Felix’s force frightened me. Perhaps I should’ve listen to him when he said he would only terrorize me.

He turned me around so that I was facing the wall, then pushed himself up behind me and pinned me there, whispering in my ear. “You want me. You crave me.” He put his hand on the back of my neck and turned my face to the side to meet his. I surged with lust for him, loving him holding me so firmly. I couldn’t escape this nor did I want to.

“Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners?” Hamlet screamed.
 

“Tell me what you really want with me,” he rasped into my ear.

No words came to my mind. He pressed firmer into my back so I felt his length against my ass.

“Oh, shit,” I moaned and threw my head back against his collarbone. His hands began to feel up and down my back, until with one forceful movement, he lifted me and pinned me to the floor. He guided me where he wanted me like a dance. There, on top of me, he pushed his forehead into mine.
 

“Oh help him, you sweet heavens!” Ophelia cried.
 

“God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad,” said Hamlet, I could almost tell by the sound of his voice that he most likely had Ophelia in a similar place that Felix now had me.
 

“Tell me what you want with me,” Felix said again.

I ran my fingers through his hair and heaved my chest upward, feeling overcome with carnality toward this brute. His lips dragged over my bare stomach, along my sides, and finally up to my breasts, his nose pressing aside my shirt. “Let me show you how much better real life feels.”

“Oh, Felix.” He kissed me hard, wetly, deeply, and I reciprocated. We rolled from side to side in a storm of some kind of passion that was being fueled by the play.