Finding London, Ellie Wade [different e readers txt] 📗

“My dad was from London,” I let out before I can stop myself.

“Really? Have you ever been there?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“I bet your dad has the best accent. I love English accents.”

“Yeah, he did.” I can still hear his voice after all these years. At the time, I didn’t realize he spoke with an accent. He just spoke like my dad.

“Where do your parents live?” she asks.

“Heaven, I suppose—if such a place exists. They’re dead.”

I can sense London stiffen in the seat next to me.

Her voice comes out broken as she says, “I’m so sorry, Loïc.”

“It’s fine. It was years ago. I was seven when they died.”

“Can I ask how…what happened?”

“Car accident.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

We’re silent for a few beats, and I’m hoping that the questions are done. I try not to think about my parents and the life I lived after the accident. It takes me to a dark place, one that is hard to get out of.

I should know that, with London, nothing is comfortable.

Sure enough, she asks another question, “So, who did you live with after they passed?”

“Various people from all over.” I feel her stare, and I turn my head to meet it.

She’s so beautiful. Her expression is one of sadness, empathy, and confusion.

“I was a foster kid, London. I went from home to home until I was fifteen when I left and just lived on my own…for the most part. I joined the Army when I was eighteen.

“You see, infants are easy to find homes for. When I was left at that fire station, I was snatched up by my parents in a day. Everyone wants a baby. Nobody wants a seven-year-old boy with major emotional baggage.”

London’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, which I find comforting and irritating at the same time. Without saying another word, I stand and make my way to the tiny coffin, also known as the restroom.

I lean against the small counter with my head bowed and eyes closed. I take in the rumbling of the engine and the gentle sway of the moving airplane. My heart is beating rapidly, and my chest screams in pain. I’m so full of contradicting emotions.

London has me so screwed in the head. I’ve survived this life by closing off my feelings, locking them all up behind my tough-as-steel exterior. It’s not an ideal way to live, but it works. Healing requires one to face their demons and let go of their pain. I might seem strong in many ways, but when it comes to that, I’m still the frightened seven-year-old boy who was left with no one. London has this way of making me want to be different. She makes me want to try, and that is scary as shit.

The announcement that we are starting our descent sounds through the speakers. Thank God for that. I exit the small enclosure and take my seat next to London.

“Loïc?”

I turn my head to meet her gaze. “No more questions, London.”

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t going to ask you any. I was just going to say that I appreciate you sharing with me. I’m a good listener, if you ever need someone to talk to. I know you aren’t thrilled to keep running into me. But I promise that I can be a good friend, if you find yourself needing one.”

I pull in a deep breath. London’s hopeful gaze penetrates into the most hidden parts of me. With just a look, she reaches places no one else has been before. It leaves me in awe but also with utter feelings of terror.

I know that, if I explore these newfound sensations, I am going to be setting myself up for devastation. I don’t have proof to back up this theory, but staring into the eyes of London, I simply know. She isn’t someone that I can come back from. When I lose her, I will never recover. Of this, I’m certain.

At the same time, with her eyes locked on mine, I’m finding it difficult to care about my inevitable future heartache. This connection gives me strength to push past the boundaries I’ve created and courage to ask the most important question of all.

I clear my throat. “I do have one more question for you.”

“Sure. Anything.” She beams, her full lips causing my heart to stutter in my chest.

“London”—I pull air into my lungs that feel as if they are suffocating—“will you go on a date with me?” I get out the words that I’ve never uttered before. There’s a first time for everything.

“Of course!” she answers immediately.

I stare at her wide grin. It, like everything else about her, does something crazy to me. She makes me insane, and it’s an insanity I’ve never felt before.

I have a feeling that I will be experiencing a lot of firsts with London. To prove my point, I lean in, and without warning, I take her mouth in mine. She lets out a surprised gasp, and then almost immediately, her lips move against my own. My entire body seems to vibrate in satisfaction.

This is the first time I’ve kissed a girl because I genuinely wanted to feel her lips and taste her sweetness. Kisses have always been a step I needed to complete before sleeping with a chick. The kiss has never been the priority, the core focus. But this right here, with London, is the motherfucking main event.

This is the first instance that I couldn’t stop myself because my attraction to her lips was so overpowering that I’d lose my mind if I had to go another second without feeling them.

Yes, this is going to be the first of many firsts with London, and I’m going to enjoy them all…while they last.

London

“Well, you know what they say. Better to have fucked and lost than never to have fucked at all.”

—London Wright

“I still can’t believe you ran into him at the airport. What are the chances of that?” Paige sits on my bed amid her pile of gossip magazines. Her attention is torn between the gossip of Hollywood’s rich and famous and my own world of exciting developments.

“I know. It was meant to be. I really think so.” I unclip another section of my hair from where it was twisted atop my head, so I can curl it. “I’m nervous though. He’s so hot and cold. Well…he’s pretty much all cold, except for when planes are landing at Metro Airport. Apparently, under those circumstances, he just wants to make out.”

Paige and I burst into laughter.

“He’s strange, for sure. He’s lucky he’s so damn fine.” Paige returns her attention to the magazine in her hand. “Just remember, it’s no use, crying over spilled milk.”

I groan. “Nothing spilled, you dork. I know you’re the proverb queen and all, but how about you stick with your own words when giving advice? They tend to make a little more sense.”

She huffs, “Well, talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

I throw my hairbrush at her. “I hate you.”

She uses the magazine to block the brush from hitting her. “You love me,” she says with a chuckle.

“You’re right; I do. But you do know that you kinda make me crazy, right?”

She shrugs. “It’s a gift. What can I say?”

Ignoring her rhetorical question, I ask, “How do I look?” I spin around, displaying my date outfit for approval. I’m wearing my favorite skinny jeans and a baby-pink T-shirt. I finish the outfit off with glittery ballet flats. I’m hoping the outfit screams casual but cute in that I-don’t-have-to-try-to-be-sexy-but-I-am-anyway vibe.

Paige peruses my entire look. “You look hot, but you’re, like, naturally gorgeous without even trying.”

“Yes! Thank you! That’s exactly what I was going for. You’re right; I do love you.”

“Where are you going? Did he say?”

I grab my cell to check the time. He’ll be here any minute.

“No”—I shake my head—“he didn’t.” I apply a few extra doses of my body spray and another quick run of my lip gloss.

“Well, you know what they say about surprises?” she asks.

I grab my clutch and a light jacket. It’s a hot June day, and I doubt I’ll need it, but it’s better to be prepared. “No, Paige, I have no idea what they say about surprises. Please enlighten me with your wisdom.”

“I don’t know either. I thought maybe you’d know.” Her response comes out in a giggle, and she winks at me.

“You’re such a dork, really.” I squint my eyes in mock disappointment when the doorbell chimes. I jump at the sound. Running my hands down my jeans, I say, “Here goes nothing. Bye, chica.”

“Bye. Be careful. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she calls to me as I exit my bedroom.

“I won’t, Mom!” I call back as I walk down the hall to the front door.

“Love you! Be careful!” she yells from my bedroom.

“Love you! Don’t wait up.”

I hear Paige say, “Oh, I’m waiting up,” as I open the front door.

I’m still laughing at my obnoxious best friend when the door swings wide, and I’m met with Loïc’s beautiful blues. The intensity in them is so pure, so focused, that I feel my stomach begin to churn, and I can’t remember for the life of me what I was laughing at a mere two seconds prior. The entire world around me has faded to black, and it’s just Loïc standing before me in his spotlight of godliness.

I’m a goner.

“London.” Loïc’s voice is deep and, if I’m hearing it correctly, nervous.

“Loïc.”

Our stuffy greetings feel out of place, but at the same time, it’s so…us. None of our exchanges have been typical or followed the usual script of how two normal young twenty-somethings get to know each other. Yet it doesn’t bother me. I think that’s why I was so drawn to him in the first place.

None of the guys I’ve dated in the past compare to him. He is in his own category of intrigue. He belongs to his own club where he is the only member, and I desperately want to be the one who’s allowed access.

Loïc runs his hands down his jeans and clears his throat.

He’s really nervous. It’s just so…adorable. Bad-boy Army guy, who has probably killed someone with his bare hands—okay, I don’t know that; I’m just making assumptions—is scared out of his mind to go on a date with me. It’s written all over his face. The contradiction between his usual hard-ass demeanor and this obviously timid man standing before me is so endearing. I can’t put into words why I find him so fascinating, but, man, I do. He’s trying to put on a show of nonchalance, but in this moment, I can read him like a book, and he’s scared.

I take a step toward him, closing the front door behind me. Our upper bodies are a breath away. One more step, and I’m sure I could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

I grab on to his arms hanging at his sides. “Tell me the truth. How close were you to canceling our date?”

His face breaks into an amused smile. “Pretty damn close.”

“I thought so.” I grin up to him.

I’ve never met anyone like Loïc before, but he’s still a guy, and I’m not ashamed to use