to think of a wine cooler alternative that I can order without coming across as a complete idiot.
“What can I get you?” the bartender says in a velvety British accent. I’m staring at him blankly like I’ve been struck by a laser beam of amnesia.
“It’s on me,” the man beside me says, holding up a black credit card.
“Madam?” the bartender urges me, and I gulp.
“Just a repeat, please. Of this…erm…martini.”
Oh my God! I can’t sit through another glass of this. It’s going to end up burning my insides. While the bartender walks away with the credit card, I dare to chance a look at the man beside me.
He’s been watching me this whole time. Reading me. I’m almost afraid he can hear my thoughts.
“Why did you order it if you didn’t want it?” he asks, still grinning. I can feel the back of my neck burning with embarrassment and anger.
“Excuse me?” I snap. “What makes you think you know what I want?”
“Do you want that martini?” he challenges me.
I know my cheeks are red. My eyes feel strained. I feel uncomfortable in this dress with its low-cut sweetheart neck. I shouldn’t have worn it.
“What do you really want to drink?” he persists.
Screw that. What do I have to lose?
“A strawberry slushie,” I reply, and I’m not embarrassed.
When we walk out of the bar, I feel exhilarated in the chilly London night. Soho has come alive. There are people and music everywhere.
I don’t know where we’re going. Back in the bar, he suggested I follow him out. I haven’t had a slushie in months, not since I was in Chicago. I don’t even know why I’m craving one tonight. He said he knows just the place. Honestly, he doesn’t strike me as a slushie kinda guy. But he didn’t strike me as American either. So what do I know?
“I’m Reed,” he says all of a sudden, turning to catch me staring at him as we walk.
“Oh. Right. I’m Ella. Ella Davies.” What am I doing? He doesn’t need to know my last name. We’re two complete strangers and I would like it to stay that way. That is what this trip around Europe is all about. An endless stream of faces. Nameless faces, if I can help it.
“Okay, Ella Davies. You want a strawberry slushie, and that’s what we’re going to get you.” He rubs his hands together with joy. There’s that smile again! I look up and see that he’s led me to a store around the corner from the bar. It’s one of those all-night places that sell everything that is essential to life. Corner shop, as they call it here.
I follow Reed into the bright lights of the store. Now I can see him clearly. I see the rich color of his hair. He has broad shoulders and a wide chest. He’s a muscular man, very athletic for his age. He must be at least forty. Maybe older. I look away from him this time before he catches me staring.
Get it together, Ella!
He’s pointing at a slushie machine in the corner. There are two neon-colored drinks being churned simultaneously. Pink and blue.
“A slush puppy?” I exclaim aloud when I see the sign on top of the machine.
“That’s what they’re called here,” Reed replies. He follows me to it. I can’t stop chuckling with delight.
This is exactly what I need.
I fill two plastic cups, one pink and one blue, and take them to the counter. While I pay, I can feel his eyes on me again. The way he watches me sends shivers down my spine.
There’s a part of me that’s telling me to leave now. Run. Forget about the slushies and just go. The last thing I need at this moment is to feel attraction towards a man. Not after everything I’ve been through with Rodney. Not when I’m just starting to feel like I’m recovering.
I bring the cups over to him. He takes the blue one and then a big sip quickly.
“Brain freeze. Damn!” he groans, clutching his forehead like a child would. It makes me laugh. His tongue is already stained blue, and I see this flashing fantasy image of tasting it myself. My tongue in his mouth. Tasting and stroking that blue stain. My belly tightens. I walk out of the store in a hurry.
I can’t do this. I don’t know this man. He’s a complete stranger. Devastatingly handsome and a little bit funny too. But tonight was supposed to be about freedom!