cabinets were hanging askew, like they'd been ripped off and screwed back on by a drunken repairman.
The toaster had what was hopefully butter, smeared all over it, and the table looked...sticky.
I’m too old for this. Could she get her money back? Find an apartment somewhere? But it was only a year, right? Did she really want to be on her own, with no one to talk to? She made a tsking noise under her tongue, thinking then looked around her again. Oops.
She'd been staring into the distance, thinking her own thoughts but a young man had been in the way. Now he was watching her, a smile on his face. Oh god. He thought she’d been checking him out.
Val blushed. He was handsome. Light brown hair and blue eyes. His smile was slow and reached his eyes. He smiled a lot, she could tell just by looking at him. He just looked like a happy guy. What a novel idea, she thought, comparing him to Jack's doom-and-gloom-persona. Ooh, he had nice teeth too. That was when it clicked, a feeling of rightness and potential belonging. She was in London. She was young and free, Jack and her father were thousands of miles away and she could be someone different.
They left the dorm and began the walk to Hampstead Village. Purple brick mansions lined the streets, narrow steps leading up to ornate doors with heavy brass knockers. Huge Range Rovers and full-sized American cars were parked on the small streets, towering over their European cousins. Not too shabby for a dorm location.
“You know Rod Stewart lives around here.”
She turned and there he was. The handsome one. “Really? Do you know which one?”
He laughed. “No. It may not even be true. My roommate told me. But he's Northern and you can't trust them an inch.”
“What?” She was perplexed but amused.
“He's from Northern England, near Liverpool. He's nice enough, but they're a very disreputable sort.”
“That's a terrible thing to say!” She laughed anyway.
“And snobbish.” He contributed helpfully. “Class warfare is alive and well in England. There, now you know. We also have good fish and chips. I'm Ian.” He held out his hand to introduce himself.
Val took his hand and noticed he had nice nails too. His palm was smooth and not too warm. They chatted all night. Ian bought her a drink at the Wellington, then bought everyone a round at The Dog and Crook, which resulted in much cheering from her bleary-eyed new friends. By the fifth pub, everything was hilarious. She laughed and danced. Blur came on and they all sang along with abandon. It was so different from America. Liberating somehow.
Ian maneuvered her into a corner and kissed her lightly, waiting to see if his kiss would be rebuffed. He tasted of ale and she knew he’d taste the cider she'd had several pints of. Fermented apple juice was the gateway drink to beer. Who knew?
Ian pulled back. “You taste like apples. I thought girls were supposed to taste like strawberries.” He said it in a James Bond accent that came complete with a raised eyebrow and smug expression.
She actually giggled. “At least it's a fruit. Have you ever kissed someone after they ate a loaf of garlic bread?” That was dumb. But seriously, she was so drunk he was lucky she could say anything, let alone coordinate a kiss.
Smiling, his lips met hers again. Val closed her eyes and leaned into him, feeling her heart pound and a sweet desire unfurl within her. She twined her arms around his neck and he held her lightly, kissing her until she felt a little light-headed. Val pulled away from him. “I'm sorry. You are so cute, and I am so drunk, but we have got to stop. I need a shred of reputation or this will be a really long year. I can't make out with you in public on the very first night of school.”
Ian squeezed her hips lightly. “Maybe you don't need your reputation. Maybe we are perfect for each other and it's a grand passion. Uncontrollable. Forever.” Her brain was hazy but that was wrong. Forever was wrong, reminded her of vampires and the life she’d left behind. The Hell she would! She'd kiss him, make herself think about Ian and not worry about—
Why is he watching me? Seated at the bar, back to her, was a man. A mirror ran along the length of the bar and patrons could look into it and see the people