Growing up, I’d always wondered what it would be like if Cam and I had been close. Our relationship is more like that of cousins who only see each other once a year than that of a brother-sister. There’s an eight-year age gap between us. We didn’t have much in common. He was always doing things with his friends or studying for exams, while I spent all my time in the dance studio. Maybe I should call him one of these days.
My thoughts circle back to Sam. “IfI pursue this guy, I want to do it on my own. Not that I’ve made up mymind that I’m going to go through with it,” I quickly add.
“I’m afraid if I don’t push, you’ll just sit back and do nothing.” She rests her head against the back of the booth. “I know you’ve been off dating, but once you get back in the saddle again, maybe you’ll find it’s something you enjoy doing. You just need the right horse.” She snickers at her cleverly worded puns.
I roll my eyes, take a bite of rice, and chew slowly. “If you must know, I, er... plan to swing by Horse Guards again tomorrow before the changing of the guards.”
“You do?”
“Uh-huh. I just haven’t figured out what I’m going to say, or how I’m going to talk to him if he’s on duty.” I study my food. “When I spoke to him, it didn’t feel like I was talking to some random guy. He was so easy to talk to. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“It’s called chemistry. If you felt it, I’m sure he did too.” Liz rubs her hands together. “I like challenges, let’s see what we can come up with. What did you two chat about?”
At quarterafter ten the next morning, I arrive at Horse Guards Parade to find it relatively deserted. The horse soldiers are in the boxes, but unlike yesterday morning, they aren’t surrounded by a ring of tourists. There are only one or two couples taking selfies with the horses.
It’s amazing to think that in just an hour’s time, all this will change. This is the calm before the storm. Fridays are always chaotic. It’s one of our busiest days of the week at the museum, and I can only imagine the same is true of the other tourist hubs.
In the few years I’ve lived in the city, I’ve never actually spent time doing many of the touristy things, like taking the time to watch the Changing of the Guard. I’ve stayed in my little bubble, focusing on school. The only experiences I have to go on are what people have told me. I don’t care much for crowds or waiting around for things to happen. Maybe that’s why I haven’t done it.
I glance back at the horses. I wonder what passes through their minds as they stand still and watch the humans do strange things around them all day long. The horse in the box to my left has its eyes half-closed.
Behind me, I hear the telltale sound of a guard’s boots marching with purpose against the sidewalk. As I’m turning to see where it’s coming from, I hear a familiar voice say, “Make way.”
My eyes flutter. Instinctually, I know I’m once again standing just where I’m not supposed to. “We need to stop meeting like this,” I murmur as I sidestep to my left.
Sam stomps his feet on the ground. For a brief moment, we lock eyes. Electricity races through my body. His brown orbs are amused. In the morning light, they’re a warm caramel color. The corners of his lips briefly twitch. He blinks slowly, then ever so slightly lifts his chin. My breath hitches. I think he’s trying to tell me to follow him inside.
A moment later, he acknowledges the guards in the boxes, then retreats to the back corner by the gift shop kiosk. I give him a two-second head start, then follow. It’s like he’s Peter Pan, and I’m his shadow. We’re engaged in a game of follow the leader.
As Sam settles in behind the chain under the arches, I dry swallow and take a bounding leap outside my comfort zone. “Hey, Sam. I, er... know you’re busy and you can’trespond to me, but, er, I just wanted to stop by and say thanks for all your help yesterday.”
His chin dips a millimeter. I take it as a nod. Hesitantly, I reach into my front pocket. His eyes are tracking my movements with interest.
“I, um, wouldn’t evernormally do something like this, but I liked talking to you yesterday. If you’re free to meet for coffee, tea, or whatever else catches your fancy when you aren’t on duty, my number’s in here.” I wave the piece of paper. “Should I, er, leave this on the ground? Or, um, slip it into your boot?”
In a sweeping motion, Sam nonchalantly brushes his left arm across his coat, sliding his right leg forward, exposing the rim of his boot. There’s my answer. Do I reach over the chain? Crumple it and shoot the note into the opening like a basketball?
I glance around me. There are a few police officers chatting amongst one another, but otherwise, nobody is watching us. My pulse picks up. Kneeling, I pretend to tie my shoe, but instead reach under the chain and quickly slide the paper into the opening.
I hear Sam’s breathing shift. He’s laughing at me under his breath. I know I probably look ridiculous, but hey, I don’t like getting in trouble. Standing up, I brush the dirt off my knees.
“I get off work at six. Don’t take it personally if I don’t respond until after seven though. I’m picking up a new phone when I get off.”
Sam half closes his eyes and dips his chin once more.
“See you later.” I wave, feeling foolish, but owning it.
Once I’ve passed through the tunnel, I stop and splay my hand on my chest. I can’t believe I just slipped my number to a guard. Liz won’t believe it either. I’m normallyso calculated about every move I make. This is so unlike me. But like Liz mentioned last night, it’s time for me to stop being so sheltered and take a few risks. A person can’t go wandering through life wrapped in bubble wrap forever. I need to rekindle the spark of daring that caused me to take the bold risk and move here.
After I was fired by Artem at LABT, I was so angry. I auditioned until I was blue in the face and all that came of it was a series of humiliating rejection letters. No ballet company wanted me. It was like I was having an out-of-body experience, with no control over what was happening to me. I used that anger to figure out that if the ballet world didn’t want me, I’d find a place that would.
Corinne was supportive through it all. But without dance as a link between us, we started to drift apart. She was always busy with classes, rehearsals, and performances, and never could find the time to spend with me outside the studio. Being abandoned by a person I thought was my best friend was one of the wounds that hurt deepest of all. I haven’t spoken to her in a few years, except for the obligatory “happy birthday” kind of message.
With ample free time on my hands, I threw myself into sewing. I never dreamed that taking a community-college sewing class would change the direction of my life and lead to my winning a scholarship to the London School of Fashion. The admissions officer who processed my application felt so strongly about my work that she bent over backward to help me find and secure the funding so I could be here. I owe so much to the school; they’ve been my literal safe haven.
But now, my time at school has come to an end. I’ve graduated—with honors, I might add. I need to be able to spread my wings and step out into the big bad real world onmy own. That means putting myself out there to meet people. Even if nothing comes from slipping that note to Sam, I can walk with my head held high, knowing I’ve taken that leap into the unknown. If he responds, I’ll be ready.
Six
