Alfie shares a little about his own roommates, then asks, “Have you ever lived away from your family?”
“Uh-huh. I was a boarder at the Wiltshire Girls Academy from the time I was ten until last year.”
“Then you’ve already done the dorm experience,” he says.
“Huh, I guess I have. I never thought about it that way.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“No, not especially.” I play with my glass. “It might not have been so bad if my school hadn’t been all girls.”
“Growing up with sisters, I’ve heard stories about how cruel girls can be to one another.” Alfie’s large eyes appraise me. “I can tell you firsthand that bullying isn’t just done by girls. It happens with boys too. Until I decided to become a full-time student at the Westminster Ballet School, I attended a local comprehensive in Surrey and I was bullied mercilessly.”
My chest tightens. “Was it because of dance?”
He nods and gives me a sad smile. “Eight- and nine-year-old boys aren’t mature enough to understand that even though social media and the internet paint dance as a feminine art, it isn’t just for girls. It’s for everyone.”
I wince. “I’m sorry for you too. How did you get through it?”
“I tried to give up ballet completely, but I was miserable. It was the one thing I enjoyed. My grades dipped and I grew really depressed. Luckily, my sisters stepped in and helped me sort out that I shouldn’t have to give it all up. I needed to be surrounded by people who weren’t so close-minded. So my parents decided to pull me out and let me enroll full-time in dance school. That change in environment made all the difference in the world.”
As I listen to Alfie speak about his past, a warm, fuzzy feeling runs through my chest. Here is a man who’s not just surviving, he’s thriving. There is so much I can learn from him. He inspires me to share a little bit of myself with him, even though we’ve just met.
“Our stories are a lot alike. I had some problems in my last year of school. I was bullied. All I could do was pretend I lived in a bubble, and it didn’t bother me, but in truth, it did hurt. I spent a lot of time alone.”
“Alice, I’m so sorry you ever had to go through something like that.”
“I just wish there had been someone like you I could’ve talked to. It would’ve made a huge difference.”
“Me too, Alice. Me too.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. It’s a small gesture, but brings me so much comfort.
Around ten,Alfie and I say our goodbyes and I am driven home by Art and Angela.
“You two looked pretty cozy with one another when you walked out. Do you have plans to see him again?” Angela grins, glancing back at me from the front seat.
I stare out the window at the darkened streets of London. The shops are closed, yet the there are still plenty of tourists out and about, especially as we pass Piccadilly Circus. “Alfie was great. I liked him a lot. We agreed to keep in touch with one another, but if we go out again, it’ll only be as friends, not a date.”
“It’s for the best, ma’am,” Art mutters.
“I agree.”
Toward the end of dinner, Alfie admitted to me what I’d suspected earlier. He isn’t looking to get involved in a relationship right now. His focus is on starting his new life and career in Germany, and I can’t say I blame him. He agreed to go on a date tonight because Jenna kept talking me up to him. He wanted to be open-minded. A part of me was relieved to hear him say that. I like him, but in a friend sort of way. We didn’t have that zing or chemistry between us that I feel when I’m near Art.
One good thing that did come of dinner was our discussion about bullying. It was like a weight being lifted off my shoulders when I was able to talk so openly to another person who’s gone through what I have.
Throughout the evening, I couldn’t help but wonder about other people who are being bullied and whether they feel invisible and helpless. If I can, I’d like to find a way to help them and bring awareness to it. Maybe it can be my platform. I made myself a mental note to speak to my brother for some advice.
“Are you going to go on any other dates this week, ma’am?” Angela asks.
“I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll try again in another two or three weeks. For now, I’d rather focus on enjoying the remainder of the summer.”
Art remains silent. My gaze travels to him. He may not be scowling, but he’s still clenching his jaw. What’s on his mind? He was in a much better mood once Alfie was gone, and leaving the pub relaxed him. But now we’re back to square one. Why are his moods so unpredictable?
“Have you finished reading the secondBridgertonbook yet?” Angela asks.
I turn my head. “No, um, I haven’t really been in the mood for romances lately. I’ve been on a fantasy kick. There’s this amazing series involving dragons and a school in?—”
“You’re killing me.” She groans. “I need you to finish them so you can watch the series. There’s nobody else I can talk to about them.”
