The Thrill Is Gone

“She’s dating someone.”

“What do you mean she’s dating someone?”

“I mean she’s dating someone!” a frustrated groan escaped his lips. “Saw her walking with some bloke, he was all smiling and laughing, and she was standing there, really close to him and they were like – like something out of a bloody film!”

“What’d he look like?”

“I don’t know. He was blonde, not as blonde as her, but he was still fairly blonde and he just had this smug look on his face like he knew that she was the most amazing woman on earth and that he’d swept in! Who the hell does he think he is? I swear if I cross paths with him, I’ll – I’ll, well, I don’t know what I’d do, but I’ll do something.”

“Alfred, you oaf,” she put down her cup of coffee. “Via’s not dating him. That’s her cousin.”

“Her cousin?” he asked, his voice regaining its normal composure.

Paulina nodded. “Don’t you remember she said her cousin Rhys was gonna come down from Scotland to visit for a few days? That he was gonna check out the campus because he was thinking about getting his doctorate here?”

“Rhys . . . oh, that’s right! That’s right! Completely forgotten about him, I had. Bloody hell, her cousin, her cousin! That’s why they were all chummy. Not because of – don’t give me that look. I know that look. Paulin, don’t.”

“What? I'm not saying anything!”

“I know you’re not saying anything but you’re looking at me.”

“What? So it’s illegal to look at you, now? Do I have to pay a fine? Because I'm not paying a fucking fine, I’ll fight that in court.”

“Don’t be ludicrous.”

“No. You don’t be ludicrous.” Paulina took a sip from her coffee. “Honestly Alfie, it’s been months since you told me, you liked her. And nothing’s happened! Nothing!” she bellowed.

“Your point being?” he asked, trying his best to remain nonchalant.

“My point is that you need to stop freaking out and obsessing over every possible outcome. If you keep that up, some other guy’s gonna swoop in, charm her and ask her to be his girlfriend! Via’s so fucking great. She’s smart, funny, and kind. And no one has a heart has big as hers! No one! It’s only a matter of time before someone asks her out on a date. In fact, I’ve already had to tell someone that she didn’t date so that they wouldn’t ask her out.”

“You did?” he asked, unsure as to whether or not to believe her.

“Yeah, I did. Graham asks me awhile back what her deal was and I told him that she doesn’t date because she wants to focus solely on school. And you’ve seen Graham. That man’s easy on the eyes and he’s South African! Exotic!”

“That’s not making me feel better.”

“It’s not supposed to. It’s supposed to make you want to ask her out.”

“It’s making me want to muzzle you.” Alfred leapt up from his seat on his couch and wandered over to his alcohol area, fixing himself a drink. “So how was the date?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“What date?” her eyes were glued to his back.

“Don’t act coy with me. You know what I'm talking about.” He turned around, carrying two glasses of scotch. “Manchester United, ring any bells?”

“Ah. That.”

“Yes, that.” He handed her the drink.

“Thanks.” She took a long sip from it.

“So,” he said, after having taken a long drink. “How was it? Was Callum a gentleman?”

“Callum?” she shot him a confused look. “Why would Callum have been there?”

“Wasn’t he the bloke ya went with?”

Paulina shook her head. “No. I went with, uh, this guy I met awhile back.”

“And does he have a name?” he placed his hand on the armchair, balancing his drink on the edge.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Me? I'm not doing anything. Simply inquiring as to who a mate was out with,” he said.

“You’re trying to change the conversation by focusing on me, but that’s not gonna work. No, no, no. You need to make a move. You’re such a romantic, Alfie, so fucking adorable. And it’s a shame that you have all these romantic thoughts but don’t act on them.”

“You’re just making things up.”

“Am not,” she protested. “You’re old school. How that happened, I really don’t know since from what I’ve heard about your parents, they haven’t exactly been that sort of couple.”

“Learned it from my nanny,” he smiled at the thought of her. “She was quite the woman, always spilling those ideals and thoughts; naturally, I was quite taken by them.”

“Why didn’t that happen with Charlotte?” asked Paulina.

“Ah, well, that’s quite simple, really. When Charlotte was born, my mother was enamored. She had a little girl to dress up and dote over, so she took it upon herself to care for Charlotte. She refused to let my Nan look after her. It was mother that sought to her education, to her upbringing. And while Charlotte was raised to be selfish and vain, I was raised to be quite the opposite, though; I think that my shyness and introspective nature makes people think I'm proud. So at least in appearance, Charlotte and I have that similarity.”

“I didn’t think you were proud.” Paulina commented. “You looked so fucking awkward on the first day of class that I just figured you were shy and had trouble making friends.”

“Am I really that easy to read?” he chuckled.

“Don’t act like that’s a bad thing. If it hadn’t been for that, we wouldn’t be friends and you wouldn’t be swooning over Olivia.”

“And you’ve gone back to her.”

She tilted her head back slightly, allowing a light laugh to leave her lips. “I have to go back to her. She’s your favorite topic.”

“You enjoy teasing me.”

“ME? No!”

“That wasn’t a question.” He grinned. “But enough about that, who’s the bloke you went out with? I was sure it was Callum.”

“Just because Callum asked me out once that doesn’t mean it was him,” she stated. “If anything, that means that it wasn’t going to be him.”

“How’s that?” inquired Alfred.

“Uh, because he asked me in like October and its April now, also, he’s got a steady diet of one night stands that he’s not giving up any time soon. Not that I’d want him to.”

Alfred scrunched his nose in disgust. He was old fashioned when it came to sex. His views on it were that it should only be had if people were in a committed relationship. Casual shagging wasn’t something that he viewed with kind eyes, regardless of whether it was a guy shagging any willing woman that crossed his path, or a woman that went at it with any bloke. That was just the way he viewed things. That was why, he, at the age of 25, had only ever been with two women. The first was his girlfriend from secondary school whom he was with for four years, until they reached an impasse in their relationship when he left England to attend Harvard, and she left for Glasgow. His second girlfriend was an American with whom he was with for two and a half years. Their relationship lasted past their graduation from Harvard, but a year after they graduated; they decided to call it quits. He had no desire to move to America. She had none to move to London.

“I’d forgotten he was like that.” Alfred said.

“Well, the one I went out with isn’t much better.” Paulina laughed.

“How can ya laugh about that? What if ya get a disease?”

“Slow down, Alfie,” she set down her drink. “I'm not sleeping with him. We’ve barely hung out a few times. And that Manchester game was our first proper date.”

“But what if –”

“I’ve no intention of sleeping with him in the near future. And if I did, I’d make him get tested and wear a condom. Because nothing comes near this without a rubber on, I'm not about to raise a baby. No sir.”

“How about that Frenchman?” he reminded her. “That one ya shagged in September.”

“Ah, Jérôme,” a silly little smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “He used a condom. Didn’t remember him putting it on, but when I left the next morning, I saw it, it was sort of just lying there, chilling.”

“That’s vile.”

“Quit being such a prude.”

“I'm not a prude.”

“Yeah, you are. The only people worse than you are Priests, and you’re almost as bad as them,” she took another drink from her scotch, finishing it off.

“It’s not that I think people should only have sex when they’re married. It’s that they should be in a committed relationship, where they love and respect the other person. That’s not being prude. That’s being –”

“A romantic,” she finished his statement.

“Well that, and sensible,” he pointed out. “Because if ya only have sex with people you’re in a committed relationship with, with someone that’s monogamous then you’re not gonna be catching anything. And that way if there’s an accidental pregnancy then you know that the other person will be there.”

“You do have a point, but no strings attached sex does have its perks.”

“Was that what you were doing that night at the club? Did ya leave us to go shag some bloke? Paulina!”

“I left so that you and Via could be alone, but you were a little wanker about it and didn’t make a move like you should’ve.”

“I wasn’t about to make a move at a club. Where’s the romance in that?”

Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “You were in Bath for two days! That is such a romantic fucking place and you didn’t do anything.”

“You were always there.”

“Was not!” she argued. “I left for like two hours once. Remember? When I said that I had to go talk to my family? I left so that you guys could walk through the gardens alone, but again, nothing happened.”

Not wanting to talk further about his lack of initiative, Alfred opted to change the topic. “So what were ya doing? That night at the club, I mean.”

“I, well, I was hanging out with that guy that took to the match.”

“He was there?”

She nodded. “Didn’t plan on running into him there, but he was there and we just had drinks and talked. And I had a really good time with him. He’s really funny, like way funnier than I thought he would’ve been.”

“Who is this mystery fellow?”

“You wouldn’t know him.” she quickly said. “He doesn’t come to Oxford.”

“So he drove all the way from London to pick you up for the match and then drove you to Manchester and then back to Oxford and then to London?”

Paulina nodded.

“Now I really have to know who he is.”

She shot him a questioning look.

“No guy would put himself through the trouble of doing that much driving without really fancying that woman.”

“You did it for us when we went to Bath.”

“No, not really, I did it to spend time with Olivia, only pretended to do it for you.”

“You bastard!” she feigned hurt.

Alfred smiled. “I'm sure ya knew that though. So who is he?”

“You sound like a girl right now.”

“I sound like a worried brother.”

“I’ve never heard you sound like this when you’re talking to Charlotte.”

“That’s because when I talk to Charlotte, I'm always asking where she’s stumbled out of. Now, out with it, what’s his name?”

“Henry.” She didn’t feel a need to lie about the name. He wasn’t going to guess that it was a Prince, she was seeing.

“Henry,” he repeated. “That’s a bit common.”

“Says the man named Alfred,” she retorted. “Plus, I happen to like his name. It’s sturdy.”

“And it goes well with yours.”

“It does! Paulina and Henry, Henry and Paul – fuck you.” Her cheeks flooded with color.

“What? What I do?”

“You wanted me to sound all lame and, fuck you.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re as hopeless a romantic as I.”

“I'm nowhere near as hopeless as you. I actually make moves. Unlike you, who just thinks about it, thinks about the outcome, and acts like the fact that you thought about it was enough.”

“It’s not as simple as you think.”

“It’s simpler.”

“Why? Why do you say that? Do you know something? Has Olivia mentioning something to you? Paulina?”

Olivia had indeed mentioned Alfred to Paulina. She’d been mentioning him since the pair met so many months back. Olivia was smitten by him. She adored how shy he could be. He thought him remarkably bright, welcoming, so handsome and she just loved being around him. But Olivia, not wanting to make the first move, was waiting for Alfred to make one.

“Look at the time. It’s nearly 12:30. I have to go get going.”

“Whatever it is, can wait.”

Paulina stood up. “Unlike you, I have a date. So if you’ll excuse me. I have to get going.”

“Are you really gonna spend all afternoon getting ready?”

“Hell no, I'm just gonna put on some actual clothes. Can’t go bike riding in pajamas and slippers,” she told him. “Thanks for inviting me over last night.”

“Can’t believe you’re gonna leave without telling me.” Alfred grumbled as he stood up to walk her to the door.

“The drinks were delicious. Glad we didn’t throw up from all that we drank.”

“If you know something you should tell me.”

“And I thought the sweet bread I made came out well.”

“They were delicious, but you should tell me if you know something.”

Paulina stopped at the door, her hands holding onto her bike. “Ask her out.”

“Does that mean she’ll say yes?” he looked at her, hope shining in his eyes.

“Just ask her out, Alfred.”

Paulina shot him one last smile before stepping into the hallway that would lead her towards the elevator and then down the five floors to the entrance. She loved Alfred. She truly did, but sometimes he made her want to smack some sense into him. He loved Olivia. He’d known that for the last few weeks and before that, he’d fancied her like mad. So she didn’t get why he hadn’t asked Olivia out on a date. Alfred needed more confidence when it came to that sort of stuff. Paulina told him so on many occasions, but Alfred insisted that it wasn’t a lack of confidence, well, not entirely, he said that what made him so hesitant about asking Olivia out was the fact that he’d never felt that strongly about anyone before. What he felt for her was what his nanny had read to him about love truly feeling like, and when the time came to tell Olivia how he felt, he wanted it to be perfect, something worthy of being read in a great novel. And until he figured out how to do that, he wasn’t going to make a move. At least, that’s what he continued to tell himself, though the fact that Graham had wanted to ask Olivia out made him rethink his plan.

The bike ride to Paulina’s flat wasn’t a very long one. Alfred only lived a little over a mile and a half away, so in no time at all, she got home, showered, dried her curls so that they were still an unruly mess but not an absolute disaster, and slipped into some clothes that she’d be comfortable bike riding in. She was excited to see Harry again. It’d been almost a week since the Manchester United v Arsenal match. And although they’d spoken on the phone a few times since Wednesday night, she really wanted to see him. She wasn’t sure as to how she’d act when she saw him. The butterflies fluttering about her stomach made her question whether or not she’d be awkward, but her head was still firmly on its shoulders (even though there were a few moments when she swore it was going to float off) and she felt ready to be the same person he’d come to know. She wasn’t going to change to make him like her more. No. She was far too stubborn for that. He was either going to like her as she was or not at all. And if their current meetings were of any use, then she was fairly certain that he liked her well enough.

As Paulina waited for Harry to arrive, she got on Facebook and began replying to the few messages that she’d gotten from friends back home, as well as some comments that some of the rugby guys had left. She was in the middle of leaving a comment for her brother, Adrian, when there was a knock at her door. She left her desk, thinking that it was her neighbor that was always going over to have a cup of tea or chat, but it wasn’t Laura, it was Harry.

“How’d you get in?” she asked, a bright smile that mirrored the one on his face, sweeping across her own.

“Someone was walking in so I slipped in right behind them. Think I might have rubbed their butt by how close I was. No matter though. Now you’ll have to deal with whispers about you dating a gay man.”

“That’s not so bad. I’ve always wanted to date a gay man.”

“Have you?”

She nodded. “I’d make one hell of a fake girlfriend.”

“But they wouldn’t know what to do with you. It’d be no fun.” He leant against the doorframe. “There’s a solution to that, to them not knowing what to do with you.”

“Is there?”

“Mhm, you could keep a lover.” Harry whispered, his bright smile replaced by a smirk.

“Tempting, but I’d rather be with a gay man that’s also a drag queen. We can dress up and perform at clubs. I’ll even get you tickets for the performance.”

“First you’ve got to get yourself a gay boyfriend.”

“Minor detail,” she laughed.

Harry shook his head at her, his grin reappearing.

“Come on in, I was just sending out a comment, but I’ll do that later. Let me get my things.”

“Is that my welcome?”

“You’re welcome was me asking how you got in.” Paulina laughed. “But if you need a different one, what’s suitable? A handshake? A hug? Maybe a snog? Something else, perhaps?”

“Don’t have me answer that.”

“You’ll be cheeky, won’t you?” she smiled knowingly. She stood on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Hello Henry. How was the drive?”

“It was alright, a bit of traffic, not too much though.” He walked into her apartment, suddenly becoming aware of the bouquet in his left hand. “Paulina!”

“Yeah?” she closed her laptop.

“I brought you these. Thought you might like them. They’re very bright, you’ve got a bright smile so I thought . . . you’d like them, seemed logical enough to me,” he hadn’t actually thought of taking her flowers.

He was just going to show up at her flat with his bicycle, but when he left Alistair’s home that morning, his security guard told him to take the young lady some flowers. That if she was worth the trouble of putting on a disguise and borrowing a vehicle, then, she was certainly worth the trouble of purchasing a bouquet. Harry wanted to be protest, to say that it wasn’t his style to take a woman flowers, especially if they were only dating, but he did want to make her like him and if that meant popping by a flower shop, then so be it.

Her face lit up at the sight. She was a sucker for flowers, her previous boyfriend, Joaquin, had known that and he’d made a tradition throughout their five year relationship to take her flowers every Monday. She’d missed that tradition. She’d missed getting home from university on Mondays, and seeing fresh flowers on the coffee table. And although Harry was by no means establishing a tradition of that sort or tenure, the simple fact that he’d taken her a bouquet made her heart flutter.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” she took them into her possession and buried her nose in them, letting out a content little sigh as the heavenly scent struck her. “Let me just, uh, put these in some water and then we can get going.”

Harry closed the door behind him and followed her into the kitchen. He stood off to the side, watching as she took out a sink from beneath the sink and filled it with cool water.

“How was your week?” she asked as she arranged the flowers in the vase.

“It was rather dull, really, had tea with Nan a few times, saw my dad and went to an event, forgot what it was, something for the arts.”

“That does seem like a pretty calm week.” Paulina was about to carry the vase from the sink to the kitchen table, but Harry offered to carry them for her. “Do you have anything planned for this weekend?”

“Was planning on annoying you all day,” he shot her a grin. “And tomorrow, well, at the present there are no engagements to speak of. I'm hoping I won’t get a phone call, urging me to go to church tomorrow.”

“Why would you get a call for that?”

“Because my Nan thinks church would do me good, reform me or something, though I'm quite sure I’d burst into flames as soon as I step foot.”

“I'm sure there’d be someone to put out the flames.”

“Don’t think a fire extinguisher would do that trick.” He smiled fondly at her, suddenly realizing just how delighted he was to be talking to her in her flat. “How about you?” he asked.

“What about me?” she grabbed a small lunch bag from the refrigerator, and stuck it inside her larger messenger bag.

“Do you go to church?”

Paulina nodded. “I actually do. Probably not as often as I should, but I try to go every Sunday, sometimes to the morning mass if I can wake up, but usually it’s the evening one.”

“You enjoy it, then?”

“It’s alright. I mean, I'm not gonna say that I'm one of those people that are just spouting biblical quotes like mad. That’s not me. My faith is between me and whoever it is that I choose to believe in. And when I'm in church, I don’t usually pay attention. It’s hard since it’s in English.”

“Why would that be hard?”

“Back home the only mass we go to is the mass in Spanish. So over here it’s weird to hear the prayers in English. I don’t know them that way. So I just sort of sit off to the back and just smell the incense, but don’t tell the Priest that, he thinks I'm really religious because I always look so deep in prayer, usually I'm just dozing off.”

“Then why even bother going if you’re just gonna be fighting sleep?” he was baffled by her. “Might as well do that here, ya can kick off your shoes and watch the teli while you do it.”

“Good reasoning, but I go because it feels like home. It reminds me of when my mom used to scream at the top of her lungs that if we weren’t ready for mass in ten minutes, she was going to hide the television in the house or, but this was reserved for when we really didn’t want to go, she’d give us a spanking.”

“She’d threaten you lot with a spanking to make ya go to mass?”

Paulina nodded, chuckling lightly as she did so. “That’s how Mexican Catholic’s do it. Didn’t you ever get threatened with something when you didn’t want to go to church?”

“Well, yes, but I was told I wouldn’t have any sweets if I didn’t get dressed. There were no threats of spanking.”

“That’s because your royal behind wouldn’t have taken it well.”

Harry colored at her words, his ears turning a violent shade of red. Had she met that as a sexual innuendo or had he misinterpreted? He hadn’t had sex in nearly two weeks. He was probably just imagining things. Yes. That was it. He was imagining things. His mind was twisting words to take on other meanings.

“Are you into biking?” she asked as she slung her bag across her shoulders.

“I enjoy it, though I don’t bike often. Prefer to ride on horse.”

“Ah, horses.”

“That’s right. You don’t care for them.”

“It’s not that I don’t care for them. It’s that they fucking terrify me.”

“How can you be so scared of them?”

“Simple, really, I was like seven years old when one of them charged me, so ever since then I’ve avoided them.”

“Poor horse was probably spooked.”

“You saying my face scared it?” she joked, though her face remained perfectly serious.

“What? Of course not, I was just –“

“It’s okay, I'm not insulted. Was just teasing,” she scrunched her nose at him and put on her sunhat.

“A hat?” he smiled.

“Just because I'm not a ginger that doesn’t mean I don’t burn.” Paulina grabbed her bicycle. “Need to use the bathroom before we head out?”

“No, I'm fine, thank you.”

“Let’s get going then.”

The pair biked around the streets of Oxford for an hour. They didn’t go at a fast pace, it was quick enough for them to feel their muscles burn, but at a slow enough pace for them to talk as they biked. Eventually, growing tired of the streets, Paulina told him that there was a beautiful bit of land that he might like. Harry, wanting to put an end to the biking, gladly agreed that they should go there and the pair biked over to Christ Church Meadows, a popular area where students and faculty alike enjoyed stretching out their legs on warm afternoons and having picnics if the weather was agreeable enough.

“We can hang out here or if you like or we can go somewhere with less people.” She told him.

“Less people would be better. I'm actually quite anxious to take off the wig for a bit.”

“Less people it is, but don’t make a lot of noise while we’re sneaking in.”

“Sneaking in where?”

“It’s nowhere dangerous, just the Botanic gardens.”

“Then why do we have to sneak in. Can’t we just pay?”

“We can, but where’s the fun in that?” she smiled mischievously at him. “Come on, it’s not bad, me and my friends do it all the time. Or are you scared?”

“Scared? Hah!” he puffed his chest out. “Where do we sneak in from? Or should I find the way with my impeccable sense of direction?”

“Seeing as to how I don’t want to get lost, I’ll lead the way.” Paulina hopped off her bike. “You should probably get off your bike. It’s easier on foot than trying to maneuver on the bike.”

Harry followed her example.

They walked on foot for ten minutes before coming upon thick vegetation. Harry wondered if that was the place where they were going to stop, but the fact that she didn’t slow down made it clear that they had some ground left to cover. She took a more steps before stopping. She’d reached the fence.

“Harry,” she whispered. “We’re gonna stash the bikes here. Is that okay? It’s a safe area. I’ve left mine here a bunch of times and no ones ever taken them.”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay.” Paulina hid the trees amongst a cluster of trees; she then took out a piece of ribbon from her pocket and tied it on a branch. “Just a reminder,” she said. “Now all we have to do is jump over. You’re tall so you won’t have any trouble. You could probably step over the fence.”

“Just because you’re vertically challenged –”

“I am not vertically challenged,” she threw a leg over the fence. “I'm just not freakishly tall like you.”

“You’re petite.”

“5’6” isn’t petite. It’s a good height. I’d even say tall.”

“You’re a far cry from tall.” In one fluid movement, he jumped the fence.

“Show off,” she declared when she finally jumped down.

He smirked in response. “Which direction we headed?”

“That way,” she motioned to the right. “There’s this great spot along Cherwell River. There’s a bunch of trees and bushes, but in the middle of them there’s this small clearing, it’s great for just relaxing.”

“Sounds brilliant,” he said as he walked alongside her, taking his hand in hers. “Do you come here often?”

The feel of his warm skin against hers, made her smile brighten further (if that was even possible).

“Every weekend,” she replied. “I tend to go on at least an hour bike ride on Saturday and Sunday’s, and when I finish that up, I come here to relax, take in the scenery.”

“It is quite lovely.”

She nodded in agreement. “Do you like just walking around gardens or the countryside?”

“To be honest, if I'm in the country, I prefer a hunt or fishing, though I do have to walk to get to wherever it is that I'm going, but I'm more of a sportsman. Have you ever been hunting?”

“Hah. No. Can’t say I have,” she said.

“Does it not interest you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t see the appeal in hunting. That and I think I’d have a panic attack if I had a shoot an animal. It’s not that I'm a vegetarian or anything or one of those PETA people, I just don’t want to see an animal die, if I had to hunt to eat meat, I wouldn’t be able to do it. I just want to see my steak on my plate and not think about the cow that died to give me that steak. Is that weird of me? It is, isn’t it? Egh, that’s just how my head works.”

“It’s not strange,” he reassured. “I'm quite sure most people share that sentiment.”

“Well, that’s good to know. The spot’s just through these bushes.”

She went first, holding onto his hand as she walked through the thick shrubbery that shielded the small clearing from view. Harry followed after her, questioning whether there was actually a clearing behind those bushes. The vegetation was so thick that he was certain that there’d only be more plants on the other side, but surprisingly, there weren’t. It was a small clearing of smooth green grass, there were a few flowers along the edges, but for the most part it was empty and when both his feet were firmly inside the clearing, Paulina let go of his hand and pulled out the thin blanket that she’d stashed inside her bag. She spread it out on the grass, smoothing it on the corners and then laid down, her dark curls fanning out behind her as she gazed up at the brilliant sky.

“You just gonna stand there all day?” she asked him.

Harry took off his wig. “Was just taking in the area, didn’t think it was a race to colonize the blanket.”

“Well, if it had been a race, you would’ve lost.”

He lay down beside her.

“Ginger hair and brunette sideburns, I think you might be onto a trend.”

“It’ll be in fashion next season.”

“All you have to do is walk out in public like that.”

“So simple really, though I’d rather not. Like the anonymity the wig gives me. Ah. Feels lovely to relax after exercise,” he stretched. “Do you like London better than Oxford?” he found himself asking her, after a brief silence.

“I, uh, well . . . no.” she replied. “London’s brilliant. It’s got everything going on and there’s so much to do, but there’s just something about Oxford. It has a lot of the same amenities as London, but it also has these amazing grounds and I'm a sucker for the country, so the meadows make me love it. How about you? Do you like London more?”

“I do. I wish there weren’t as many people in London so that I could walk around without being swarmed, but London is London, nothing else like it.”

“That must be so annoying, having people following your every move, I mean.”

“It is.” He let out a sigh. “Can’t blow my bloody nose without the press finding out about it, and then you meet people that you think like being around you, but they just like being around the title,” he said.

She turned onto her side to better look at him. “I like being around you.”

He could feel her gaze burning into the side of his face, he felt exposed under it, as if there were no secrets between them. He rolled onto his side, tilting his head slowly downwards to meet her gaze.

“That’s why I like you.” Harry said. “You’re not obsessed with titles.”

“I’d rather judge people by their character than their title.”

“And how am I? What is my character?”

“Ah, well, you’re kind of smug, not obnoxiously smug, but pleased with yourself smug, but you’re also really kind, charismatic, and funny, so funny, I honestly didn’t expect you to be as funny as you are. And that’s all I know from the time I’ve spent with you.”

“Maybe you should spend more time with me. We can expand that list.”

She smiled coyly. “Maybe I should.”