Anglophilia

I could barely hear myself think in the hubbub of the tavern I was in, but that hardly bothered me. I liked hustle and bustle. That’s why I left my boring town in boring Pennsylvania after I graduated high school. I took a year off before college to visit the biggest and best cities in Europe. Rome, Athens, Munich, Vienna, you name it, I probably spent a few days there.

I had just arrived from Paris and had been to a total of three places so far in London: the airport, the hotel (to drop of my bags), and the first tavern I could find.

I was already missing the elegance of Paris, the delectable coffees (or cafés) and the whole bohemian vibe. All England had offered me so far was beer that wasn’t as good as German beer, weak tea (which I was drinking now), and disgustingly overcast skies.

I mentally reviewed the sites I wanted to see: the London Eye, the Tower of London, St. James’ Palace, the Memorial for the Fire of 1666 and a few other things. I could probably do London in a day or two and then be on my way to green Dublin.

My musings were interrupted by a guy about my age.

“’Scuse me miss, but d’you mind me sitting here? All the other tables are full.”

I shrugged. “Go ahead,”

He smiled charmingly and sat down opposite of me.

I noticed he had medium length brown hair with bangs that fell attractively over his chocolate brown eyes.

“The name’s Jamie,” he said holding his hand out to shake mine.

“Logan,” I said, placing my hand in his.

“You American?”

“Yeah. Is it that obvious?” I asked nervously. American wasn’t always the best thing to be when travelling to Europe.

“No, no, not at all.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Really?” I asked, not believing him.

“Okay, yeah, it is obvious,” he admitted. “But I dunno why Americans all want a British accent. I love American accents.”

“Your accent sounds so much better than mine though! My accent is barely even an accent.”

“My accent is so posh!”

“I wish I sounded posh! Or even knew what posh meant. I just sound like a dumb American,”

He laughed. “You don’t even know what posh means! It means snobby, snooty.”

“Oh. Never mind then.”

We chatted for a little bit more, nothing too important, just small talk. That is, until he asked the obvious question.

“So, what brings you to England?”

“I’m on sort of a sightseeing trip. I’m visiting major European cities and, well, seeing the sights.”

“Mmhm, okay. How long are you staying in these cities?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“No more than three or four days.”

He slammed his tankard down on the table, making me jump. “That’s culture rape! You’ll probably go on a double-decker bus to see Big Ben, go on the London Eye, and then go home! I won’t have it! I-“ he was (thankfully) cut off from his rant by the noising ringing of his cell phone.

“’Lo?” he asked briskly. “Oh, hey Cara. No, but- I was j- fine. Okay. Okay. Fine. I’ll be there soon.” He snapped his phone shut. “You got lucky Logan. I have to go. Be here at one pm sharp, and I’ll show you my London.” He quickly downed the rest of his beer, winked, and turned to go.

“Wait!” I called out. “I didn’t catch your last name!”

“I didn’t give it. But it’s Brookes. Yours?”

“Laudenslager,”

“Well then, ‘til later Logan Laudenschlager,” he said, pronouncing my name with a German accent.

For the next half hour, I sipped my tea and thought about the man I had met who was Mr. Jamie Brookes.

The next day, Jamie arrived at the same tavern we had met exactly on time. I had arrived fifteen minutes earlier so I could have a cup of tea to get me started. English tea was growing on me.

We greeted each other and then proceeded to leave the tavern.

“Alright, let’s get the American tourist in you satisfied first. This way,” he said to me, turning left.

We walked a few blocks before he stopped. “There’s Big Ben,” he said gesturing towards the giant tower. “’S not the tower or the clock, it’s the bell.” He glanced at the clock, then peered down the street. “Ahh,” he said grinning. “Right on time.”

A large red bus pulled up in front of us. Jamie paid the fare, then stepped onto the bus. “Right then, the stairs are over there. Don’t Americans all want to sit on the top?”

I hated that he was right. “How did you become the ‘Great American Tourist Expert’?” I asked scathingly.

“There’s three things that tourists come to London for- Benny, riding on the top level of a double-decker bus and that bloody ferris wheel.”

“You’re pretty cynical,” I noted dryly.

“I’m pretty realistic too. I don’t even know why I’m bothering with you. I usually don’t use my weekends to show tourists around. I mean, it’s no skin off my back.”

“Maybe it’s because I ‘raped everyone’s culture’ and you don’t want me to rape Britain too. Maybe it’s because you want me to have the best experience in England I could get. Maybe it’s because I’m so unbearably sexy.”

He snorted. “Right, that’s it. That, and your extreme modesty.”

I smirked at him.

We arrived at the London Eye shortly. For those who don’t know, the London Eye is a large ferris wheel that takes a half of an hour to complete one rotation. It’s worth the money, because you can see pretty much all of London. The only thing longer than the ride is the wait (I’m only half joking).

Jamie already had tickets. When I thanked him, he smiled and said, “You can just pay me back.”

“So, how long have you lived in London?” I asked as we stepped onto our pod.

“I actually grew up in Doncaster. I moved to London about a year ago to get a job at Harrod’s, this massive department store.”

“That’s cool, I guess.”

“No, it is cool. See, celebrities sometimes shop there. Even the queen shopped there once.”

“Okay, that is cool.”

“Yeah, it is. So, what made you decide to rape culture?”

We got some odd looks from the other people in our pod from that statement.

“European culture has been building for thousands of years. In America, you can only go back four hundred years. I’ve already been to Williamsburg, Boston and Philadelphia on family trips. That’s as much as I can get out of America.”

“Oh, I see your point. You said family trips, so you have brothers? Sisters?”

“One brother, one sister,” I corrected. “My brother’s twelve and my sister’s seven.”

We then spent the next ten minutes talking about our family and our childhood. In the middle of his story about the one first time he drank alcohol, he broke off.

“Wait, why’d you stop?” I asked, confused.

He led me over to the side of the pod. Below us was London, spread out below us. The Thames River was winding below us, and I could see Big Ben. It was truly breathtaking.

“Oh. Oh wow. This is amazing.”

“This is why all the tourists want to go on the London Eye,” he said, smiling slightly. “Hell, I even went on it when I first came to London.”

“You did?” I asked incredulously, looking at him. “No way.”

He blushed. “Yeah. I was a tourist.”

“Aw, Jamie, that’s so cute!”

“Yeah, just don’t tell anyone.”

“My lips are sealed,” I said, making the motion to lock my lips with a smirk on my face.

The rest of the ride was saw us near the glass, just glancing at the marvelous view laid out before us. Jamie never did finish his story.

Next, Jamie took me to the Tower of London, the thing that I wanted to see most. It was extremely interesting.

“Pretty sick things they did back then, huh?” Jamie asked when we were looking at the torture chamber.

“Yeah, but it’s so fascinating. I mean, King Henry VIII and his chopping block?”

“Oh. So you’re attracted to men who have six wives, of which, four die?”

“Not attracted, but drawn to. And not so much Henry, but his wives. And daughters. Did you know that Anne Boleyn’s sister was mistress to Henry first?”

“Actually, no.”

“Mmhm. I actually want to major in history in college, focusing on British history.”

He turned to look at me.

“Logan?”

“Yes?”

“That is so hot.”

I smirked and returned my attention to the torturous devices. I dragged Jamie all around the Tower of London, desperate not to miss anything.

“Where to next, Mr. Brookes?” I asked as we left the tower.

He pulled out his cell phone and checked the time. “Shit. I need to go. I promised Cara that-“

“No, it’s fine,” I cut him off. “I understand. I’ll just go then. It was nice meeting you.”

“Logan, listen. Cara’s just a friend. We’re not dating or anything. Oh, er, you might want to check out Oxford Street or the Camden Market. Anything near River Thames is good for shopping. Madame Tussauds is pretty cool too, and I bet you’d like the London Dungeons.”

“Okay thanks. I’ll…well, maybe I’ll see you before I leave?”

“Or…” he said, smirking, “Maybe you could give me your number?”

I smiled. “Sure, I could do that. But only if you give me yours.”

We exchanged numbers and then he gave me a hug goodbye.

“Bye Jamie,” I said, wrapping my arms around him.

“Bye Logan,” he said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before letting go and disappearing into the mass of tourists.

I placed my hand to my cheek, where he kissed me, and then turned to go back to my hotel.

The next day I went to the London Dungeons and Madame Tussauds. I decided not to go shopping because I wanted to save my money for an emergency.

Jamie and I didn’t talk much for the rest of my stay in London. I did, however, send him a text to let him know that I’d be leaving for Dublin soon, a few hours before my flight was scheduled to leave.

I was zipping up my luggage when my phone vibrated. It was a text from Jamie.

Meet me at the tavern

Of course I knew exactly which tavern it was. I left my luggage in the hotel room and walked the few blocks to the tavern where I first met Jamie.

I walked in and immediately spotted him. He was sitting where we had first met. I walked over to the table and sat down opposite of him.

“Hello Jamie,” I greeted.

“Hey Logan,”

“So, what’s up?”

“I just needed to give you a proper goodbye.”

“Um, okay…” I said, confused.

He leaned across the table and pressed his lips to mine in one of the most passionate kisses I had ever experienced. He pulled away far too early, in my opinion.

“Oh, wow,” I said, slightly out of it.

He smirked slightly.

“So, um, what?”

“Logan, ever since that hug goodbye two days ago, I can’t stop thinking of you. You’re intriguing, not to mention damn hot.”

I blushed at that unexpected compliment.

“I know you leave later, and I dunno. I just wish you wouldn’t. I want to spend more than just a day with you.”

“I could skip Dublin. But that’s my last stop. I guess that gives us another week?”

“I guess that’s the best I can get. But I’ll take it. I just feel such a connection with you.”

I smiled slightly. “I feel it too.”

Jamie leaned over and gave me another one of his amazing kisses, one of many that I would receive over the next seven days.