He calls me that evening as promised, explaining how he'll pick me up at the Gatwick arrivals upstairs and to look for his white Volvo.
I can barely contain my excitement over the fact that I'll going to his house, getting to see a glimpse of his everyday life, and hopefully, take our relationship to a new level.
I try to envision what his house looks like. The last few years I've dated my fair share of European guys, including a few Brits, so going to homes abroad is not a novelty by now but this just feels different--maybe because I was never this head-over-heels about any of the others.
They were all nice guys, but the relationships just naturally fizzled out over time. Some lasted weeks or months, but they just never seemed worthy of much effort. Plus most long distance relationships unravel before you even finish saying 'transatlantic.'
This one has to be different.
I get up and throw some clothes in the washer and scope the fridge for something to eat. After throwing a Lean Cuisine in the microwave, I go and peek in Stephanie's room, but I remember she's still in Hawaii. It’s amazing when your roommate is also a flight attendant how seldom your paths cross unless you’re flying together.
This is my last trip before having five days off. No plans have been made yet, but I think I'd die without seeing him for that length of time, so I’m hoping he asks me to come stay with him for those days.
I wonder if I should tell my mom about him. I decide to call home; she picks up on the third ring.
"Hi, sweetie," she greets me. "When are you coming home for a visit?"
"Soon," I say. If Jason doesn't ask me to stay with him over my days off, I’ll come home for sure.
Explaining Jason to her will be interesting. She met Brad a few times and was actually okay with him, but I'm pretty certain that introducing her to wheeler number two is going to be less than ideal.
This relationship has to show signs of long term potential before I put myself in the position of having to explain anything to her. I keep it light instead.
Next morning I’m feeling so excited and energized that I decide to go running. This is probably an annual event but I have firmly decided that I have to lose a few pounds since my uniforms have felt so tight lately that I've developed this fear that I'm going to either pop a button or split a seam when I bend over.
This is a pretty mortifying thought considering if it were to happen in the aisle there is no where to go. But an even more important reason is the fact that I just acquired the most scorchingly hot boyfriend I could have ever dreamed of.
I live at 87th and Lexington which is the upper east side and only four blocks east of Central Park. Okay, maybe it was an exaggeration when I said running is an annual event but to be honest I don't think I do it once a month. I walk out and stretch and start running on the pavement heading towards the park.
The leaves are starting to turn different colors and the cold air hits my lungs and feels heavenly. I really end up enjoying the run every time I do it and wonder why I don't do it more often. The ridiculous thing about where we live is that most of our check goes to rent to maintain our small two bedroom yet we are always flying and don't really seem to have time to enjoy all the perks of living in the city.
I really only take about eight days off a month and often wonder if I should just move somewhere more affordable. What I’m really hoping is that Jason and I progress quick and he realizes he can't live without me and asks me to move in with him. Then at least I wouldn’t have to fly so much to maintain my apartment and could get more days off to spend with him.
I’ve only spent two nights with him and I already have myself moving in with him.
Slow down, girl.
Oh, who am I trying to kid? It’s not like I haven’t put the name Brynn Prescott together and practiced my new signature a million times.
Yes, I’m pathetic when I’m in love--or lust-- or whatever it is that’s kicking my tail right now.
I know the relationship new yet I still can't help but wonder where it's headed. I have plenty of friends that commute from Europe having found their partners/spouses in other countries.
Would he consider moving to the states? That is definitely more of a long shot. I think end of the day it would be much easier for me to uproot than him. I guess I have to be patient and see where this takes us....
After landing in London the next day, everyone deplanes and I bid my crew farewell having already told them I will not be joining them on the van ride to the city.
I take off up the jetway while they descend the air stairs to the van awaiting below. Once I go through customs and immigration, I follow the signs out until I locate the doors leading to the passenger pick up zone.
I exit the automatic glass doors he described perfectly and step out into the early morning dusk. Even though it's just breaking daylight now, the sky is gray and a soft drizzle comes down steadily as I look for the white Volvo he described.
Right away I spot a white car slowly approaching the curb where I stand and look at the driver when it gets close enough. Even though his eyes are hidden behind aviator shades, there is no mistaken the tousled blond hair and unmistakable jaw line and my heart skips a beat as I wave to him. He waves back and I start to make my way to him.
I open the passenger side and right away notice he's got the main frame of his chair on the passenger seat.
"You're going to have to open the back door and put the chair on the seat behind you with your bags."
I'm a bit inexperienced but I grab his frame and move it to the back in order to give to clear the passenger seat. Surprisingly, it's really light.
We only use a rolling carry on and a smaller shoulder bag so it's not like they take up a whole lot room but his chair does take up about half of the seat so I have to cram them in while he helps by pulling them forward from his seat.
I hop in and first thing I do is plant a big kiss on him. He smells amazing, like a combination of clean soap and natural yummy scent. I can also feel his smooth skin along his jawline where my kiss just landed and notice he's freshly shaven.
I want so badly to cuddle up against him but his arm closest to me stays steadily busy on what I assume must be hand controls.
Between the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers swishing away the light rain, the soft sound of Coldplay coming through the speakers and the heat coming from the vents to keep the car warm, I find myself relaxing and some of the nervous energy leaving my body. I settle for leaning my head on his shoulder, making sure not to get in the way of his driving.
He does return the affection by tilting his head in my direction and kissing my forehead while keeping his eyes on the road.
"You look beautiful," he says doing a quick glance in my direction. "I can never figure out how you can look so nice in the mornings. I could never pull that off as well as you."
"Whatever! You look amazing, as usual," my turn to examine him.
He does look really amazing, especially because this is the first time I've seen him wearing a short sleeved shirt that is even more form fitting than his tees.
It's one of those white lycra shirts that contour the body, so his well defined biceps are on full display as well as the Celtic knot on his forearm.
He's wearing black track pants, the kind with the drawstring and thin white stripes down the sides which my eyes follow all the way down to the black Pumas on his feet.
"Is this what you wear to school?"
"Yes," he confirms.
"Well, all I can say is that you don't look like any gym teacher or coach I've ever had.You probably have the girls swooning all over you!"
"Hardly," he answers modestly. But I don't believe him, not for a minute; I was a high school girl once myself.
After about another twenty minutes of driving, we exit the main highway and I start seeing the signage leading to his town.
We head into his village he starts showing me all the land marks and places of interest as we head towards his house.
I'm in awe and immediately fall in love with the picturesque little town. It reminds me of something out of an old English novel with the typical tudor style homes and lots of brown brick everywhere.
"This is the high street, only a block away from my house," he says as we pass the main road with an array of shops, pubs with white facades with thick black trim, cafes with sweet little hanging flower baskets and restaurants galore. I think of all the fun I could have exploring and shopping here.
"And this is the local market, right around the corner," he points out as we make left turn into his street.
We drive down about half a block and he slows when we come up to a small free standing home, or 'cottage' as he often refers to it.
He passes it and turns into a detached garage, which sits parallel next to the house both on the same smooth pavement. After pressing the remote button clipped to his sun visor, he opens the garage door and neatly fits the car inside, leaving plenty of room on the sides to open the doors.
I get out of the car and open his back door and I'm pulling my bags out when he says to me," You're going to have to get my chair out for me on my side."
I'm a bit perplexed about this, but go around to his side and stand there for a minute, unsure of what to do.
"What do you do when you're by yourself?" I ask, immediately knowing it was not a good question to ask and regretting it as the words leave my mouth.
He looks up at me sharply and even though his shades are still on the frustration on his face is evident. "Well, if I'm by myself I just load the chair next to me in the passenger seat. I knew I was picking you up so I put it in the back and since my car is quite small it's not the easiest task to accomplish especially considering the fact that my back doesn't twist too well. Now do you want to help or not?"
Naturally, I'm stunned by his demeanor, realizing this is a completely new side of him I hadn't seen and maybe didn't need to see in these early stages.
"Fine.But you don't have to be an ass," I snap back defensively. I quickly realize what I just called him despite worse things that came to mind. "I'm sorry. It was insensitive of me to say that. But you have to understand this is new to me and the lack of sleep from working all night certainly isn't helping," I say in the hopes of smoothing things over.
His face softens immediately and I can tell he genuinely feels bad as well. "I'm sorry too. I know I can get snappy or defensive towards certain things and you didn't deserve that either. I promise I'll make it up to you."
I return a weary smile at him but honestly, I'm still feeling a bit uncertain about everything at this moment. This is in part due to him snapping at me but also because he's asking me to put his chair together while I'm not being particularly mechanically inclined.
"Okay, where do I start?" I sigh.
"You can pull the frame or wheels out first, whichever you like."
The wheels are closest to me so I pull them out first and set them up against the car frame. Next I pull the frame of the chair out and he shows me how to snap the wheels in by connecting the metal bolt into the frame. It's really super easy and I'm relieved to be done and hand it off to him.
We head out the side door and across the driveway, which separates the house from the garage.
We did get a bit wet from the steady downpour but now the roof of the house petrudes enough to cover where we stand as he unlock the back door which puts his key in the lock of the back door.
He motions for me to enter and the side door enters to the kitchen, which is absolutely charming.
The cabinets are a royal blue with chrome knobs and a color combination of blue, green orange, and white tiles for the backsplash. He has the small stainless steel appliances and a small low island in the center. Very Ikea--but I find most homes here are that style. I also notice how clean and perfect everything is and wonder if he does his own cleaning.
"I love this. Did you remodel it?"
"It's the only room that I did when I bought the house. It needed some modifications so we just made it all new."
"We?" I can't help asking. Did he have a girlfriend living with him?
"My mum," he laughs. She picked the color combinations. Not my thing at all."
"Tell her she did a great job."
"Maybe you can tell her yourself. I told her we'd come round her house for dinner one night you're here."
I love hearing this. He wants me to meet his mom!
“Come, I'll show you the rest of the house," he says turning and heading back out into the hallway.
Since we entered through the back door, we start at the back of the house going towards the front. To the right on the hall is the second bedroom, which he has turned into a combination of gym and office, housing his computer desk and various pieces of gym equipment.
One more door over is his room, which he skips over for now in order to show me where the hall dead ends to the front door with the living room on the left.
The furnishings are basic with a brown couch, end table, TV, and stereo. There is an obvious lack of artwork on the walls and the only thing that adds some character is a wood burning fireplace in the corner.
“And that’s my house,” he says, concluding our tour.
I love it. “So do you keep it so immaculately clean yourself?"
"No. I have a cleaning lady that comes once a week. I've never been great at cleaning. Or cooking for that matter," he confesses. “I’ll show you my room and you can unpack and get comfortable.”
His room is plain as well, but at least not as barren as the living room. The bed looks like a simple Ikea model with matching nightstand and dresser. The navy blue bedspread matches the curtains, giving the room a nice dark feel. I’m also taken back by how nice the room smells: fresh linens washed with a generous dose of fabric softener, just like mine back home.
He reaches out and pulls me onto his lap, just holding me for a minute. When he speaks, it’s a soft whisper into my ear. "Brynn, I really am sorry. I'm glad you're here; I shouldn't have snapped. You had every right to call me an ass."
"I'm sorry, too." I reply with my eyes closed, concentrating on the soft sound of his breathing. The silence and darkness of the room eases me into a deep state of relaxation.
“I promised you I’d make it up... so let me start now." He runs his lips down my neck, speaking between soft, slow kisses. "Or maybe I should let you sleep. I can only imagine how tired you must be."
To be honest, I'm so tired I could probably sleep standing up. But I also feel the goose bumps rising immediately from his touch. His lips linger on the last one; I feel a hint of his warm tongue against my skin. My body burns, responding with deliciously familiar fervor. I long to feel him inside me, my panties getting wetter from the thought.
I turn towards him and my lips meet his. I feel both of our breathing quickening and now our hands are frantically pulling each other closer.
"Hold on," I stand, kick my heels off and pull my black tights down. He watches me with a look that says he wants to ravage every inch of me.
My uniform dress wraps around me, one side crossing over the other and buttoning to the waist. I reach the button closest to the top when he stops me.
"Don't take it off yet. Come back," he says his eyes blazing with desire.
I hike it up just enough to straddle him.
Once settled, he releases a single button, giving the material just enough slack to expose most of my breasts. He just looks at them for a minute, taking them in and then begins to reach under the lace bra to bring a nipple to his mouth.
Slowly, he releases the rest of the buttons then kisses the dress off each shoulder letting the dress drop to my waist. It can't come off completely with me in a sitting position because the bottom half has to slip out through my legs.
"Get on the bed," he prompts. I climb off, allowing the rest of the dress to fall and crumple on the ground.
The sex is incredible. It seems like we have our groove down more each time, no doubt due to all this practice.
He glances at the digital clock on his nightstand when we finish, which reads 9:17. "Bloody hell! I'm really late!"
"What time are you supposed to be in?"
"Well, normally half-seven, but I did tell the head coach that you were flying in so I'd be in by nine."
"Oops!" I smile.
"It's okay. He knows me quite well and knows I'm never late, so I'm sure I'll get a pass this once. So get some sleep and I'm going to head off now," he says, already sitting up and getting dressed.
I lay my head back on the pillow that smells of a delicious combination of fresh linen and him.I'm so exhausted that I’m pretty sure I’m out before he even leaves the room.