In Another Life

Master Charles Edmund Albert MacDonald II made his way into the world four weeks early on one of the coldest nights that London has seen in years.

I’d been home only a few hours when my phone rang. It was Abi informing me that Jeanette’s water had just broken, and she and the midwife were getting ready to take Jeanette to hospital. I mean, my bags weren’t even unpacked! They were still piled haphazardly on the floor with the contents leaking out everywhere. Because I’d rooted through the bags until I found my pajamas and I’d crashed into my mattress, exhausted by two solid weeks of my sisters (all three of them!) running me ragged.

I’d taken a late train back to London, too easily swayed by the promise of sweet snuggles with a velvety new baby, and I’d taken a cab back to my flat. I had enough time to kick my shoes off, and plait my hair in a loose braid before I collapsed into the sweet embrace of sleep. And then my phone rang, because Jeanette’s baby had other plans for me, it seems.

And so I’d rolled back out of bed at 1:30 in the morning, and gotten dressed in time for Amanda to pull up in her Mini Cooper with Raina sleeping in the backseat. We’d made the ride to the hospital in time to help Jeanette give birth to her son. We all got fairly intimate with Jeanette and her body that night. Amanda and I both held Jeanette’s leg, while Raina, who claimed queasiness, stood up by our friend’s head and wiped the sweat from her face as she contracted and pushed. And at 3:47 in the morning, Charley slid into the waiting arms of the midwife, red-faced and angry at the rest of the world, on the heels of his birth mother’s primitive yell of pure agony.

He was tiny and wiry, and completely bald. But he had the sweetest little fingers and toes, and his little squashed nose looked exactly like Jeanette’s own.

While Jeanette sobbed over her baby, Amanda slipped from the room to inform a white-faced Annie and a nervous Roger and Abi that Baby Charley was here and he was perfect and safe. I made my own phone call to Harry to let him know that a certain baby boy had made his debut. Slightly grumpy about being woken up, he slurred his congratulations down the phone and then promptly fell back asleep.

I’d made it back to my flat at about seven in the morning and fell back into bed just in time for my 8:30 AM alarm to go off. And because life still goes on despite the fact that brand new babies are born, I still had classes to attend and my internship to go to. After a minor tantrum in my bed, because I am an adult and this is how adults handle life, I crawl out of my warm blanket nest and haul myself into the shower. I stand under the blisteringly hot spray for a long, long while, until the sound of my ringing telephone rouses me from my zombie state.

I wrap a towel around my body and rush for the phone, dripping water everywhere and wincing at the coldness that nips at my toes. “Hello?”

“Good morning,” Jeanette sounds tired but happy, and in the background, I can hear the sound of someone being paged over the hospital intercom. “Did you get any sleep?”

I use my free hand to gather together my wet hair off of my neck and then sink down onto the edge of my mattress before I sigh. “About an hour. What about you?”

“I haven’t slept yet,” She admits with a bit of a laugh. “I-I couldn’t send Charley to the nursery. I only have a few hours with him, and I didn’t want to waste it, you know?”

My heart hurts for my friend. I can’t imagine what she’s currently going through, and here I am complaining about my lack of sleep. Winner of the worst friend in the world goes to me. “I know. Of course I know. What can I do to make it better?”

“Can you bring me coffee?” She asks hopefully and in the background, I can hear a brisk knock and a nurse announcing her presence. “I asked for a coffee, and they gave me watered down swill that’s not fit for human consumption.”

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I glance over at the alarm clock on my nightstand table. I could technically swing by the coffee shop and grab Jeanette a coffee before class if I hurried. And I know that if the situations were reversed, Jeanette would show up with coffee and probably a flask in her purse whether I’d asked for it or not. “I’ll be there soon,” I reply before she squeals in delight.

“Ooh, thank you!” As soon as the words leave her mouth, Charley lets out a shrill screech. “Oops, I have to go. I’ll see you soon, Bry!”

I hang up the phone, and then toss it to the side before I run my fingertips through my hair and scratch at my scalp. I let my hair fall down my back, wet and cold, as I stare around me at my bedroom. It’s a little messy, a little chaotic, but it’s very much me. And as I look around, I can spy little bits of Harry scattered throughout the room: a jumper draped over the back of my chair, a bottle of his cologne sitting on the top of my bureau next to my own bottles of perfume, a stack of freshly washed socks and underthings sitting in the laundry basket and jumbled up with my own things. It makes me happy to see Harry’s things here, to see him so at home in my little flat.

But the time for introspection has passed, so I stand up and start to prepare myself for the coming day. I dry off with a towel, and then use another towel to rub my hair so that it’s not dripping wet down my back. I have to use a ghastly amount of concealer and primer on the massive bags under my eyes, but I somehow manage to rearrange my face into a somewhat acceptable mask suitable for the public.

I take a few moments to deliberate through my wardrobe. Knowing that I'm meeting with a few investors at the gallery, I opt for a more business professional look for the day. And also slightly because I got the most gorgeous pair of boots from my parents for Christmas, and I need very little prompting to wear them out for the first time. I plan my entire outfit around a pair of shoes, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

Thirty minutes later, clad in a pair of loose black trousers, a flowing white silk wrap top, and my perfect precious boots, I step out my front door and into the cold London morning air. I’m busy juggling my purse, my school bag, the keys to my front door, and my mobile. As I do up the locks on my front door, my phone starts chirping cheerfully in my grasp and I struggle to stow away the keys and get to the phone before it stops beeping. Because I don’t have four hands, of course I miss whatever notification my phone is trying to send to me.

“Shit,” I mumble, tucking my phone under my chin and then throwing my keys into my bag. I’ll probably never be able to find them again in this massive purse, but quite honestly, that is a problem for Future Bryn and I don’t have time to worry about that now.

“Good morning, Miss Bryn!” I turn to see Alfred, the shopkeeper across the street from my flat, standing on the front stoop of his store with a broom in hand.

I smile upon seeing my favorite storekeeper. “Hi, Alfred! How was your holidays?”

“My daughter came to town with all of the children—it was pure chaos,” His words sound annoyed, but secretly I know that he’s pleased that his grandchildren spent Christmas with him. “They destroyed the store and my house. I’m still finding bits of sellotape on the furniture and holiday bows stuck to the walls. How was home?”

I walk down my front steps, my heels clicking as I come to a stop on the pavement. “It was good. Mum had the baby, my sisters ran wild, and I got a new pair of boots. See?” I pull up my pant leg slightly to show off the gorgeous black suede lace up booties that I am genuinely considering naming my first born child after. “I must have been super good this year, because Santa did great.”

Alfred laughs and resumes his sweeping. “Off to class?”

“And to the National Gallery,” I roll my eyes a bit, and then adjust my scarf more snugly around my neck—yet another gift, this one from Raina. “But first I need to stop at hospital to see Jeanette.”

“She’s the-the,” He makes a sweeping motion around his head, his brow furrowed as he thinks. “Red head?”

I laugh and nod. “Yes, Jeanette is the red head. She had her baby, a little boy.”

“Congratulations,” He smiles, though his beard hides most of it, as he finishes up his sweeping. “You’ll remember to eat lunch today?”

I have to work hard to keep the smile off of my face. “I promise that I will eat lunch today, Alfred.” He gives me a knowing look, and I have to laugh, holding up my hands. “I swear!”

My phone starts to beep again, and Alfred waves me off. “Go to see your friend, Miss Bryn.”

“Have a good day, Alfred!” I call out before I turn on my heel and start to make my way towards the station.

The rest of London seems to be waking up, as well, because the morning commuter crowd has come out in full force. Even the tube is more crowded than usual, and I have to do my best to suppress my eye roll at the sight of a clueless pair of Americans attempting to use their Oyster cards and failing miserably. I realize that I live in a massive tourist destination, and with that comes slightly clueless visitors. I’m just running on too little sleep, which is why I’m so grumpy. Any other day, I wouldn’t mind them taking four swipes to get their cards to work. I swear, I wouldn’t.

I ride the tube down the line and switch over once before I find myself only a few blocks from the hospital. I genuinely feel that I’m going to be able to run this route in my sleep at the rate that I keep finding myself here. I pop into a Starbucks on the corner, wait in a line that moves steadily and order a cappuccino for my friend before I pay, tip the barista, and rush out the door again.

“I am going to be late,” I sing under my breath as I rush around the corner, flying across the street despite the ‘clear the intersection’ sign that’s flashing. The clock on my phone is telling me that despite my best efforts, time is moving forward and I’m not moving fast enough.

The wind is cold and stinging. I can feel my eyes watering, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes as I race. The portion of my hair that’s not tucked into the collar of my bomber jacket is whipping around my face, and even though I’m holding Jeanette’s coffee in my one hand, my other hand has gone numb. Shit, I really should have brought gloves.

Despite the early hour, there are a surprising amount of people milling about outside of the building and in the lobby of the hospital itself. As I round the corner, a soft whine is caught in my throat and I rush towards the sliding doors that will let me into the hospital, into the warmth of the indoors and I will finally, finally, finally be able to feel my fingertips again. I will have just enough time to pop upstairs and give Jeanette her coffee, snuggle Charley for a moment or two, and then be out the door and in class for my 11 AM lecture.

Just as the doors slide open, I come face to face with a middle-aged man. An audible ‘oh’ slips out before I can stop myself, and then there’s a brief second of the both of us looking shocked, before we do the awkward side step shuffle until finally, I stay to one side, and he goes to the other.

“Sorry, Bryn.” He smiles, revealing straight white teeth.

“It’s—uh, it’s okay,” I say slowly, before I offer him a hesitant smile. He bypasses me without another word, and I glance over my shoulder to watch him go before I shake my head and continue on inside.

He looks slightly familiar. Was he in the room when Jeanette was giving birth? Yes, I’m sure he was. He was definitely one of the nurses who looked over Charley now that I think about it. That’s how he knew my name. I’d been hovering over the baby as the neonatal doctors looked over him, because Jeanette told me to not let him out of my sights, and I must have met him there. God knows I’d been a babbling emotional mess, and I must have amused him enough to where he remembered my name.

Way to keep your cool, Bry. That will really show them that you’re a mature adult with reasonable reactions to big life events.

I continue on inside and make my way to the elevators. As I move, my heels echo in the vast sterile lobby. There’s the sound of the decorative water fountain running in the corner of the room, and the phone lines ringing quietly at the greeter’s desk. I press the calling button for the elevator and start to root through my bag for my mobile. It’s been pinging all morning, and I know that it’s just Jeanette asking me where I am, or Mum sending me new photos of Teagan, or a group message with the girls at work to pick up some extra hours at the shop. Which I probably should, because I blew my Christmas present budget out of the water and then some. I am not looking forward to getting those credit card statements in the post.

Just as my hand wraps around my cell phone, the doors to the elevator slide open. I automatically move forward and hit the button for the fourth floor. Because I am a great friend, and also because I’m the one who purchased this beverage so it’s technically mine, I take a sip out of Jeanette’s cappuccino. It’s warm and amazing and slightly heavy on the cinnamon, but that’s okay.

The fourth floor is a sleepy little floor, and I’m not sure if that’s because it’s the recovery ward for the mothers and babies, or if that’s just how all hospital floors are—quiet for rest and recovery. The lights are low, and the pretty brunette behind the nurse’s station is the same one that I waved goodbye to not even four hours ago. She recognizes me and waves me through, and I slip through the locked maternity ward doors before the heavy doors fall shut behind me.

Jeanette’s room is room 482, so I hook a right and make my way down the hall before I find my friend’s room. I knock twice and then enter the dimly lit ward. Jeanette is in bed, propped up on a mountain of pillows with her hair in a loose, sloppy knot on top of her head and sporting her lazy day glasses. But the smile that she gives me is a brilliant one, and privately I think that I haven’t seen my friend look so happy in a long, long time.

“Good morning,” I whisper, creeping closer to the bed to look at the sleeping baby.

Charley is bundled up tightly in a crisp white swaddle with a light blue knitted hat on his head. He’s fast asleep, his little face slack and completely at peace with the rest of the world. He looks absolutely perfect, and all I want to do is scoop him up and cuddle him close to me. I’ve only just left Teagan back home, and I already miss the solid, reassuring presence of a newborn baby in my arms.

“Oh, I brought you coffee,” I hold out the takeaway cup and then wince at the mark that my lipgloss left on the lid. “I tested it for poison for you, too. It’s completely safe.” I use my index finger to wipe away the sparkles before I hand over the warm drink.

Jeanette holds out Charley. “Trade?”

I eagerly take the baby from her and then sink down onto the bed. “Hello, Mister Charley,” I coo, pressing a sweet kiss onto his covered head. I’d withstood enough lectures and rants from Mum about strangers kissing newborn babies on the mouth and/or face, and thus infecting them with herpes and scarring them with cold sores for the rest of their lives. “Have you been good for your mummy?”

“He’s been nursing like a champ,” Jeanette admits around her first gulp of coffee. “Annie and I have decided that I’m going to pump so that he can get all of the nutrients from breast milk that babies apparently need.”

“That’s nice of you,” I shift Charley around so that his head is cradled firmly in my elbow. “But that’s also a big demand on you and your time.”

She shrugs, looking down at the baby in my arms. “He’s worth it. Besides, it’s not like I have a job or classes to get back to right now. I’ll pump until Charley doesn’t need me anymore, and then I’ll stop, I guess.”

I’m taken back to our conversation in this hospital just a month ago. She’d been so terrified that she’d lost the baby, and she’d confessed that she didn’t want to have to give him up. Like really give him up. I know that she’d had several long heart-to-heart conversations with Roger and Abi, and even Annie. And in the end, Jeanette just kept coming back to the fact that she wouldn’t be able to give Charley the life that he deserves. It wasn’t fair to him, and Jeanette admitted that she loved him far too much to deprive him of a stable childhood with a mother and father who could more than adequately provide for him.

“I just wish that I could keep him,” She whispers softly, reaching out to adjust the already tightly wrapped blankets around his legs. The IV that’s placed in the back of her hand glints in the light, and I can already see a big purple bruise forming beneath the tape. “But I know that I can’t, and I know that Annie and Brad are going to give him the very best life, but… I’m going to miss him.”

“I know you will,” I reply quietly, reaching out to hug her with my free arm. “You’re a good mummy, Jeanette.”

She blinks rapidly, trying to keep her tears at bay. “Thanks, I-I’m trying. The nurses are telling me that we can be discharged this afternoon more than likely, so there’s that.” But what she isn’t saying is that she only has a few more hours with her son before she has to hand him over and watch him walk out the doors. “Will you be here?”

“Of course,” I answer immediately.

I’m already running over my lectures scheduled for this afternoon, and trying to figure out which ones I can skip. If it really comes down to it, I can just email my professors and tell them that there was a family emergency. To be fair, Jeanette is my family and she needs me. That’s more important than school, in my opinion. There’s my internship at the gallery. I can always ask Victoria if it’s okay if I come in later, I’m sure she won’t mind. It’s not like my job is public facing, I just work in the back on my own doing a restoration project. I know we’re supposed to be meeting with a few investors today, but does she really need me there for that?

“Let me text Victoria and ask her if it’s okay if I come in later,” I settle Charley down securely in my lap before I dig through my purse for my mobile.

Jeanette sighs heavily and leans back against the pillows. “You’re amazing. I was so scared that I was going to have to hand him over, and then I was going to be left all on my own.”

I make a noise in the back of my throat. “Oh, Jeanette, you know you’re going to have to try harder to get rid of all of us.” I pull out of my phone and unlock the home screen with my thumb. “You are going to get so sick of the three of us constantly checking up on you, that you’ll be begging for some privacy and alone time.”

“Well,” She pulls a face. “Privacy is what got me here in the first place.” She makes a grand gesture around the hospital room. “So I think I’m okay with the idea of constant company.”

I’m distracted by the fact that my mobile has quite a few notifications for me. I have several missed calls from London numbers that I don’t know, not to mention the dozens of text messages that have appeared in my inbox, also from numbers that I don’t recognize. I swipe through the missed calls logs and dismiss all of them before I click over to the voicemail. I hit the play button on the first message, and bring my phone up to my ear, but of course it beeps obnoxiously in my ear.

“No service,” I grumble and roll my eyes before I hit the home screen again and minimize the call log. “Did you put pictures of Charley on facebook?” I ask, momentarily distracted by the giant red circle on my facebook app that lets me know that I have 38 notifications.

She shakes her head, her eyes closed as she rests back against her pillows. “No, and I asked Amanda to keep her pictures off, too. I don’t think Annie wants him on the internet.”

“Fair enough,” I nod, already in my app and scrolling through the notifications. “That’s a bit weird, isn’t it? To be raised in this day and age, and not have an online social media presence?”

“He is only eight hours old, Bryn. I’m not so sure he’s able to tell us whether or not he wants his own facebook page.” Jeanette snorts attractively, and I’m glad to see some of her old sense of humor shining through.

My app lets me know that I have quite a few messages in my facebook messenger app. But of course I don’t have that particular app installed on my phone, so I can’t read any of them. And let’s be honest, a few unread messages is not enough to make me download the app. It’s probably one of those stupid chain messages that seem to go around every few months—all sorts of ‘tag 12 of the most beautiful women you know!’ or ‘send this rose to all of the gorgeous girls in your life!’ All the same, I toggle over to my friend requests page so that I can clear the rest of my notifications and get that annoying red bubble to disappear from my screen.

Samantha York, Darren Lawrence, Geoffrey Adams, Claire Bloomwood, Kira Wuestfield, Brian Reese, Sam Harrison.

Who are all of these people? And why are they sending me friend requests? I don’t recognize any of these names.

Even as I’m going through and hitting decline, new friend requests are popping up. I can’t keep up with all of them, and I can feel my anxiety start to rise as I struggle to understand just what’s going on. This has to be a glitch of some sort. I’ll sort it all out later, I don’t have time to deal with any of this. And so I close out of the app and turn off my phone just as someone knocks at the door.

“You have a delivery,” A nurse announces, coming into the room bearing a massive bouquet of flowers.

Jeanette opens her eyes. “I do? From who?”

“There’s a card,” The nurse hands it over before she walks over to the window and sets the vase down. “I’ll just let them have a bit of sun then, shall I?”

Jeanette rips open the card and scans the contents before she starts to laugh. “Your boyfriend,” She says to me, holding out the card.

I take it from her and then look down at the neatly written note. It’s signed from Harry, but I know it’s more likely that Helen, his secretary, has sent these over to my friend. Not wanting to ruin her delighted mood, I make a mental note to thank Helen the next time that I see her. “He’s the sweetest, isn’t he?”

“So sweet that it makes me want to vomit,” Jeanette rolls her eyes. “But please tell him that I said thank you. It was very nice of him to send me these.”

The nurse bustles over and starts to check Jeanette’s chart hanging off the edge of the bed. “Now, Jeanette, have you decided what you want to have for lunch today?”

“Lunch?” I can hear my voice go up in alarm. “Oh shit, I need to go. I’m going to be late for class.”

Scooping Charley up out of my lap I place him securely back in the plastic bassinet before I leap up off of the bed and grab for my bags that I’d left on the chair by the door. Jeanette is laughing as I zip my jacket back up and swing my school bag over my head and shoulder my bag. “You’ll be back for this afternoon, right?”

“Yes,” I nod resolutely, dropping a short kiss onto Charley’s head and then onto Jeanette’s cheek. “I will call you after class!” I fling back over my shoulder as I rush from the room and head back towards the elevators.

And that’s when it all changed. I stepped off of the elevator and into a complete different world.

I was completely in my own little bubble as I hurried towards the exit, absolutely oblivious to the stares and whispers that were following me. Hours later, when I’d reflect back on this life altering moment, I’d swear that even the very air had a different electric crackle to it, but maybe that’s just my overactive imagination at work again. But at the time, I was blissfully unaware of what was about to be unleashed on me. The most pressing thought in my head was that I had to get on campus before Professor Harris’ lecture began.

But as the glass doors slid open, and I step out into the brisk city air, a camera flash goes off in my face. I have to blink rapidly to remove the black spots from my eyes, and I take an uncomfortable step backwards before I bring my hand up to my face. By the time I can see again, the mysterious photographer has disappeared from my line of sight, though I do look around bewildered by this strange turn of events.

As I turn on my heel, I swear that I can hear my name being called from across the street. But when I gaze out across the road, across the tops of the cars driving by in traffic, I don’t see anyone that I know, anyone that I know who would be shouting my name, especially on this street. With one last scan of the pedestrians all around me, I set off to the left, towards the tube.

I walk, pulling my jacket closer towards my body and peeking out around me occasionally, as if Liv would materialize or I’d spot one of my classmates flagging me down. I feel like my very skin is crawling, and I physically shake my head to clear those thoughts from my mind. It’s fine. I’m just being my normal neurotic self. It probably wasn’t even a camera flash that went off in my face. It was probably… a light bulb bursting, or something.

Nevertheless, as I board my carriage, I can’t shake the anxious ball of nerves that has taken up residence in the pit of my stomach. I work to make myself as small and unassuming as possible, hiding behind my school bag and my purse and doing my best to blend in with the rest of the travelers. But I can still feel eyes on me, and I swear that I hear my name—my full name—being whispered by a girl sitting across from me.

Of course I’m underground and I don’t have cell service. All I want to do is call Harry and have him reassure me that I’m not being a complete basket case. Which I am, I very much am being an absolute nutter. But hearing Harry’s voice has always calmed me down in the past. I’m just being paranoid. I’ll go to my lecture, and I’ll forget all about this very bizarre morning, and that will be that. I’ll be fine.

In spite of my own mental pep talk, I am shaking by the time I get off the tube. Actually physically shaking so noticeably that I’m fairly certain that the people standing next to me are very aware of my tremors. My heart is in my throat, and I honestly think I’m going to vomit here on the loading platform in front of all of these people. I’m struggling to breathe, to get oxygen into my lungs, and I am feeling very dizzy.

“Bryn!” A loud voice comes from ahead of me, and I have to work hard not to collapse into hysterical tears once I realize that Amanda has planted herself in the middle of the platform with a look on her face that’s not unlike the one she wears when she has to snap some sense into either me or Jeanette once we’ve done something stupid. We call it her Mama ‘Manda face, and I have never in my life been so glad to see it. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“I-I turned it off,” I admit, wedging myself into her waiting arms and letting her squeeze me tightly. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“You haven’t seen the news this morning?” She questions hesitantly, biting down on her lip. “Nothing at all?” When I shake my head, she starts to move us towards the exit. “You should probably get in touch with Harry.”

“Amanda, what’s happening?” I repeat in a voice that’s not my own. It’s very faint and trembly, and I can practically feel all of the color running from my face and pooling in my toes.

I have a very good idea about what’s happening. I’m not stupid.

“Okay,” Amanda exhales heavily and keeps guiding me towards campus. “Someone took pictures of you and Harry in Colchester, and it’s all over the news.”

I nod, and faintly, I register the fact that my teeth are chattering. I can’t feel my fingers. Is this shock? Am I going into shock? “How-how bad?”

“Well BBC announced your name,” She begins slowly, carefully choosing her words as as not to upset me. Which is hilarious, because I am already so, so upset. “And they were at your parents’ house this morning trying to talk to your mother. She sent Boo out after them.”

“Fuck,” I squeak, staggering to the left as my legs seem to have turned to complete jello. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I start to laugh. “She sent Boo out after them?”

Amanda nods, a little unsure about my reaction. “Have you spoken to Harry at all?” She catches sight of the look on my face and carries on speaking hastily. “Right, your phone. It’s fine. We can call Harry from mine, and—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt her and pull away from her grasp. There’s nothing like going to sleep as a faceless Londoner, and waking up to all of Great Britain knowing your name, and descending upon your childhood home to harass your family. “It’s fine. Uhm,” The wind is whipping my hair around my face, and I can feel strands of my hair getting stuck in my lipgloss. “I-I’m going to go to class, and then I need to go back to the hospital, because Jeanette is getting discharged and she doesn’t want to be alone when Charley leaves, and then I need to go the gallery because we’re meeting with some investors and—”

“Bryn,” Amanda speaks up timidly. “Are you sure?”

I nod firmly. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m very sure. I can’t be late for Professor Harris’ lecture, so I need to go.”

“I really think you should talk to Harry,” Amanda is looking at me like I’ve finally gone mad.

Which, I guess, I have. Gone mad, I mean. I’m one hysterical shriek of laughter from booking myself into a straight jacket. I feel like I’m struggling to breathe, and the edges of my vision are starting to blur. But as I inhale deeply and struggle to get enough air into my lungs, I shake my head and then offer up a feeble smile for my friend. “It’ll be fine. I-I need to get to class, ‘Manda.”

I don’t wait for her response as I spin around and march off in the direction of Swift Hall. But I don’t get very far before I feel a small but firm hand wrap itself around my wrist and grind me to a staggering halt. “I’ll walk with you,” Amanda announces, pulling me into her side and frogmarching me down the path.

And because I have the best friends in the whole entire world, Amanda spends our brisk walk glaring darkly at anyone who dares to look twice at us. By the time we get to my lecture hall, I’ve relaxed enough to start to see the humor in this situation. At the door, I stop and squeeze my friend’s hand. “Thanks, Amanda.”

“It’s what friends do,” She nods once, and then looks over my shoulder and the poor person who made the mistake of making eye contact with her receives quite a blistering look that I certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of, that’s for sure. “Do you want me to wait for your class to let out? I can be here when you’re ready to leave, and I’ll get you home, and—“

“Stop being such a bulldog,” I giggle and envelope her in a tight hug. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Are you sure?” She raises her eyebrows and studies me closely. Her brown eyes are warm and kind and heavily scrutinizing before she nods and lets me go. “Okay, but promise me that you’ll call me when you get home?” I nod, and she keeps talking. “And promise me that you will call Harry?”

I push her lightly. “Yes, and yes. I promise. I will take care of it. Now go,” I shoo her away and watch her start to pick her way down the sidewalk.

I watch her walk away for a moment before out of the corner of my eye, I spy a student with his mobile out. He could have been texting, or trying to make a call, but his phone is pointed in my general direction, so I duck indoors and hurry towards the classroom where I know I can hide for the next hour and a half. Because let’s be honest, I’ve been in this class for weeks now, and I slink into my seat in the back of the classroom and I try not to draw any attention to myself. I take my notes, I turn in my work, and I’m out the door. And no one has ever given me a second look, and honestly? That’s the way I like it.

But as soon as I open the door to the lecture hall, all of the pre-class chattering dies away and I can feel dozens of pairs of eyes burning into me. I can feel my legs lock up in terror, and I completely freeze. That is, until the door behind me opens and I turn to see another student giving me a quizzical expression. That’s the motivation I need to get my limbs working again, so I hurry towards my normal seat towards the back, very much aware of my clicking heels and peoples’ gazes following me as I all but collapse into my desk.

It doesn’t take me long to spot the six paparazzi camped right outside the classroom window. And suddenly, for as mature and calm as I was feeling five minutes ago, I suddenly feel about 10,000 times more anxious. I slink down as low as I can go in that awful plastic bucket seat, and do my best to hide my face with my hand without making it appear obvious that I’m shielding myself. I can hear them to my left calling my name, even though the windows are shut. My classmates are gaping at me, and I can hear the whispers racing around the room as they start gossiping.

Once I heard the words ‘Prince Harry’, I very nearly lose it completely. I should have followed Amanda’s advice and gone straight home to wait for Harry to reach out to me. I should have known that she would have the most reasonable, solid recommendation. But of course I had thought that they wouldn’t find me in this classroom, that I would simply be able to sit in my normal desk, take my notes, and then slip out unobserved before they found me again.

I was wrong. Very, very wrong. So completely, laughably wrong.

The classroom door bangs open and everyone in the room flinches as Professor Harris sweeps into the room. He slams the door shut behind him with a resounding bang and marches straight over to the windows and begins drawing the shades down one by one. On the other side of the glass, I can hear the paparazzi groaning in annoyance as he cuts off their sights of me.

“It seems, class, that we have a repulsive and abhorrent vulture problem on campus today,” Professor Harris begins as he stalks to the front of the classroom. I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Everyone in this room knows that I’m the reason why there is currently a media circuit camped outside, and I can feel several sets of eyes burning into my profile. It’s not a welcoming feeling, trust me. “Therefore we can’t possibly be expected to learn under such circumstances, so I am cancelling our lecture for the day. I will email out your assignment, as well as an online assessment that will ensure that you’ve done your reading. Class is dismissed,” He pauses, and once no one begins to move, he claps his hands loudly once. “You all need to leave now.”

There’s the general flurry of people packing up their bags and slowly, slowly the room begins to empty. More than a fair few of my classmates sneak not so subtle looks at me as they exit the room, and to my horror, I can hear the clicking of yet more cameras going off in the hallway as the classroom door opens. I sink down even lower in my seat, and inhale deeply so that I won’t burst into tears in front of everyone left in the room. Maybe I can hide in this classroom for the rest of my life, and maybe, eventually, they’ll lose interest in me.

“Miss Matthews?” Professor Harris’ voice comes from above me, and I look up to see him standing next to my desk with a rather unimpressed look on his face. “Am I to assume that you’re the cause of all of this?” He gestures at the closed windows. When I nod meekly, he shakes his head. “I thought as much. Does he know what’s happening to you now?”

“I’m sure he does,” I croak out in a rough, raspy voice that isn’t my own. “But I can’t use my mobile, it keeps ringing every time I turn it on.” I shoot a glare at my bag, as if it was my bag’s fault for all of this.

There’s a short silence following my words, and I look up to see my professor looking off into the distance with a thoughtful expression on his face. Finally he sighs and nods to himself. “How are you planning on getting home?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest and peering down at me.

I suddenly feel like I’m four-years-old and being chided for being naughty. I don’t at all feel like the young adult that I am. Which is ridiculous, because I haven’t even done anything wrong. “I-I was going to take the tube.”

“Something tells me that that’s not going to be possible,” He sighs, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. “Tell you what, let’s go into my office. We’ll figure out a plan, whether that’s getting security to escort you home or getting a car to come pick you up.”

“You don’t have to,” I begin, but he cuts me off with an impressive sigh and I get the feeling that he doesn’t often take no for an answer.

“I can’t throw you to the wolves, so to speak. So let’s get you out of this viper pit, and to some place safe. I’ll get us to the stairs and then we can regroup in my office.” He motions for me to get up out of the chair.

I hurriedly stuff my texts back into my bag and shrink back into my jacket before we walk to the door of the classroom and he looks down at me. “Ready?” When I nod, he nods back at me and flings open the door.

The first thing I see is Amanda planted in front of the door, her face pinched with worry and anger. “Bry!” She yells to be heard over the shouting in the hallway.

“Amanda?” I answer, but my voice is lost in the chaos.

Professor Harris has tucked me under his arm and I use my one hand to hold my purse up in front of my face and with my other, I reach out and clamp down onto Amanda’s wrist. We make an awkward threesome as Professor Harris pushes his way through the people and we escape into the stairwell. We take the steps up three floors before he unlocks the door to his office and herds us inside.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask Amanda, finally letting go of her.

She holds out her phone, which I hadn’t realized she’d been clutching in her grasp. “Harry is on the phone for you. He’s completely panicked because he can’t get through to you. I told him that you had to turn your phone off.”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because I snatch her mobile away and bring it up to my ear. “Har?” I ask in that hoarse trembling voice that I hate, that’s completely not me.

“Bryn,” Harry sighs. “Thank god. Look, I’m on my way with Fried. We’re going to pick you up, and then I’m bringing you straight back here, and we’ll regroup. I’m sorry, love. This never should have happened.”

“It’s okay,” I hear myself saying, and I’m surprised to realize that I’m quite angry with myself. It’s not okay! None of this is okay! What am I even saying?!

Harry interrupts me. “No, it’s not okay. Dad is furious. I’m furious. This never should have happened, and I’m so sorry—“

“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, wiping away the tears on my cheeks with the palm of my free hand. “You didn’t know.”

“But I could have prepared you for this. I should have,” He groans, and he sounds the most frustrated that I think I’ve ever heard him. “I’m pulling onto campus now. Where are you?”

“I’m in Swift Hall,” I answer, finally looking up to see Professor Harris studying me closely. He doesn’t even look embarrassed to be caught staring. “I’m in Professor Harris’ office.”

Amanda makes a motion with her hands. “I can go to Harry and bring him here. Where is he?”

Luckily for me, Fried has managed to get campus security to allow him to pull up right outside of Swift Hall. It won’t be the most inconspicuous getaway that anyone has ever made, but if it’ll get me out of this situation, I’ll take it. At this point, beggars can’t be choosers. Great, and now I’m starting to sound like my Nain Rhees with the horrid cliched sayings.

“I’ll see you in five minutes, darling. I love you.” Harry’s voice brings me back to reality, and I have the foresight to note just how stressed out he sounds. It makes my heart ache, and I can't help but feel like this is all my fault.

“I love you, too.” I reply quietly, before I hang up the phone and hand it back to my friend.

Amanda pockets her mobile and then slips from the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. There’s a soft noise and I turn to see Professor Harris holding out a box of tissues to me.

I smile gratefully and pull a few out before I wipe at my eyes as daintily as I can manage. “Thank you. I-I’m sure I look an absolute fright.” But, to be fair, how much of my composure can I regain when I’ve all but cried all over my professor’s blazer?

“You look better than I would if our roles were reversed,” He replies kindly, turning away and giving me a moment to compose myself. He clears his throat, and shifts in his chair before he looks at me with an unreadable look on his face. “Miss Matthews?”

“Yes, sir?” I reply, swiping my thumb under my eyes to brush away any stray tears.

There’s a bit of a pause, and I look to see him studying me closely yet again. “Is he worth it?” He asks finally just as a knock sounds on the door.

It takes me a second to realize that he’s talking about Harry, about the complete madness that’s currently unfolding on campus because of me, because of Harry, because of us, because we decided we wanted to spend our time together. And I don’t hesitate to nod. “Yes, yes he is.”

“Okay, good.” Professor Harris nods and then stands up and moves for the door. He opens it to reveal Amanda and Jacob, a member of Harry’s security detail. “I believe this gentleman is here for you.”

“Miss Matthews,” Jacob steps into the room and nods curtly at my teacher. “I’m here to collect you for His Majesty.”

I nod and start to gather together my things. I sneak a glance up at Professor Harris, who doesn’t look too pleased for some reason, but his expression melts away once he notices I’m watching him. “Thank you, Professor Harris. I appreciate your help.”

“Well I’ll leave you in the capable hands of your security team,” Professor Harris opens the door to his office and motions for us to exit.

It’s a curt, effective dismissal, and I allow Jacob to take my satchel and lead me from the room. Amanda trails behind us, but she takes my hand up in her own when I reach back for her. A gentle squeeze from her is enough to let me know that she has my back, both figuratively and literally. So I allow Jacob to lead us down three flights of stairs, through the throng of press that’s waiting for me at the doors, and into the back of a blacked out Mercedes where Harry greets me with a relieved smile and a kiss.

And I know that I’m home, and that it’s all going to be okay.