CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
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EMMA
I’d never considered myself easy to stress or panic in most situations. I already thought that the days leading to my flight were manic, but to be honest, it only took preparation. Sorting the passport was easy enough. I even managed to apply to college and had a place reserved for the new academic year. My mother, hearing the news of my two upcoming events, almost jumped with joy. She offered to help me pack and pay my tuition for the part-time photography course. What nobody told me was the maze airports were with complicated arrival terminals, times, and waiting areas. Don’t get me started on Heathrow. The place was a labyrinth.
I sat down, waiting for a connecting flight, and instead of submersing myself in the book I’d bought for the occasion, I looked around, seeing thousands of people walking, some rushing to their destination, other sauntering slowly. I noticed that all of them had either a mobile phone or tablet and none of them were making eye contact with another human being. Thumbs flew on keyboards as they texted, emailed, or Facebooked each other. I was mesmerised by it all. After picking my camera up, I snapped a quick photo.
My flight number got called for boarding. That’s when the butterflies of excitement fluttered in my stomach with anticipation.
The plane looked gigantic while I waited to board, but once inside, I got comfortable in what looked like a cocoon seat, plenty of space to stretch my legs and a small, square TV in front. The seat turned into a bed at night-time. I lay on top of a cushion and under a thin fleece blanket while I watched a film I later couldn’t quite recall. The tiredness took over and I fell asleep.
I woke up with a jolt, confused by my surroundings and the smell of food. My stomach growled and I realised that I hadn’t eaten anything since the day before. After stretching my back, I decided that my roaring stomach had priority over my bladder. I returned to my seat and drooled at the thought of what was hidden inside that cart. It was the first time I would taste plane food, and everyone who told me about it said it tasted like plastic. Even though my taste buds and expectations deflated at the sight of fruit salad, French omelette, and croissant, it tamed the beast inside my stomach for a short period of time.
After breakfast, there wasn’t much time before the voice of the pilot boomed, announcing we’d reached New York. I was excited. So much so that I found myself smiling like a fool. It was the same smile that the flight attendants had glued to their faces when we left the plane, but what confused me was that I wasn’t sure if it was because of seeing James again, or because of seeing the city. We had only spoken to each other over the phone, and every time I promised myself that I had my feelings under control.
I got off the plane armed with my new camera, ready for a brand-new adventure.
James was waiting for me at the arrivals hall. It was a surprise seeing him, as I’d expected either Ralph or Hugh, knowing that he didn’t like the avalanches of women throwing themselves at him. But there he stood, in a pair of tartan golf trousers and a V-neck red jumper, sunglasses, and a See You, Jimmy hat—a red tartan hat with fake wisps of red hair poking from underneath.
My brain begged me to run and jump on him, but my sensible side ordered me to act like a civilised human being and stroll towards him, still smiling. He dropped the name card on the floor without care and squeezed me until the bones in my back cracked in complaint.
My heart threatened to jump out of my chest. So much for having my crush under control.
“James, let me go. You’re squeezing too hard.”
“I’m just so happy to see you. You look like crap. Did you get some sleep on the plane?” he said, without stopping to breathe.
“Yeah, I did, and thanks for the compliment. By the way, you look ridiculous.”
James took a mocking air of offence and said, “I was trying to make you feel at home, and trying my best to not be recognised. Are you hungry?”
“Not really. I had breakfast on the plane. I don’t know why everyone complains about aeroplane food. I thought it was quite good.”
“That’s because you flew first class. If you were in economy, it would’ve been a completely different experience.”
James snatched my suitcase and offered his arm to me.
I took it and we walked towards the car.
“What have you got planned?” I asked him
“Well, now we’re going to the apartment. I have to meet my agent and get my diary sorted out for next week. I’m sorry about that, but tonight I’m all yours. What do you want to do?”
“Since I’m not tired, I’ll explore, do some touristy stuff. But I would love to see a play on Broadway.”
“That could be arranged,” James said.
Even though he wore an outfit that made him look like a character out of The Broons comic, women still stared at him, and I couldn’t help but notice the muscles on his arm flex as he handed my suitcase to Hugh. I inhaled and brushed the thought away, while Ralph drove the car away from JFK.
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I couldn’t tell you exactly the length of time it took to drive from the airport to James’s flat. I couldn’t even begin to describe the views from the passenger windows, because I was so engrossed in my own thoughts, the plans I had made before my arrival, and what this holiday entailed, that I barely noticed James jabbing me with his index finger and calling my name.
He smiled at me, as if I got caught doing something I shouldn’t.
“Are you okay? You seemed to have landed from la-la land.” He was smiling, the best one in his arsenal, the same that made my toes melt. I nodded, lost for words.
“Just nervous,” I managed to say, avoiding his gaze while he held my hand and led the way towards the elevator.
Once we were in the small, square, claustrophobic lift, I held his hand tighter. It felt warm, comforting.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He looked worried, an adorable frown showing on his perfect forehead.
God, who could resist him!
“Yeah, honestly. I’m fine.”
“Do you need to be carried?”
The question took me off guard, but before I had any time to even try and ponder what he’d said, James picked me up without any effort and slung me over his shoulder as if I were a sack of tatties.
“James, put me down!” I shouted, slapping his back. When the door of the lift pinged open, he chuckled as he walked to his front door.
“Put me on the floor now. I’m not joking!”
The more I complained, the more he laughed. I had to be honest with myself, the sight of his backside looked perfectly perky from where I was hanging, even if I could only look at it upside down.
“Right, we’ll compromise. If you leave me on the floor, I promise I won’t beat you up,” I told him.
That made him laugh even harder. His laughter was contagious, and I found myself laughing with him. He stopped walking and gently, with his hands on my hips, placed me back on the floor. We were in a bedroom, but I ignored the details. His body lured me in, mine begging to be closer, to feel his warmth and the texture of his skin. My mind raced, imagining how it felt; was it soft or rough? I raised my face and his eyes bored into mine, searching for the same thing mine did. Was it permission for more? He leaned in, his lips so close to mine that I caught the sweet scent of his minty breath, so irresistible.
“James, are you ready?”
Ralph stood at the door, my suitcase beside him.
James cleared his throat, removed his hands from my hips, and averted his eyes. I was confused, and as if he read my mind, James turned around to face me and smiled.
“Just away to see my agent. I’ll call you right afterwards. I promise.” He winked and, without waiting for an answer, left.
That’s when I took the room in. It was painted in light colours with a four-poster bed and a window that covered the whole wall. I opened it and took in the sight. Couples and families strolled through Central Park, children playing. It made me imagine that they were smiling, happy. I couldn’t help but smile even though I had contradictory feelings. Part of me was elated that I was here, but the majority thought the trip was a mistake.