The best man

Chapter 5

As we walked side by side, I couldn't help but notice the accent in his voice—a smooth British lilt that stood out against the backdrop of our quiet night. It was charming, and I felt a curiosity bubbling up inside me.

"Hey, I have to ask," I said, breaking the comfortable silence. "You have a bit of an accent. Where's it from?"

Ethan smiled, clearly amused by the question. "Ah, yes, the accent," he said, his tone light. "I was born in the UK, so I guess it just stuck with me."

"Really? What part?" I inquired, intrigued.

"Just outside of London," he replied. "I moved to New York with my family when I was 15. I guess my accent is a blend of where I'm from and the years I spent in the States."

"That's interesting," I said. "It kind of makes sense now why Mr. Jenkins has that slightly mixed accent, too. I always thought he sounded a bit British, but I could never quite place it."

Ethan chuckled. "Yeah, Mr. Jenkins is definitely an interesting case. He's spent so much time here, but you can still hear his roots in how he talks."

"I was surprised when I first heard him speak," I admitted. "I mean, I've always thought of him as the quintessential American librarian, but hearing that British undertone threw me off a bit."

Ethan nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "It's like you're in a movie sometimes, especially when he gets excited about a book. His passion transcends the accent."

"Exactly! It adds this layer of charm to him," I said, laughing at the thought. "I never would've guessed he's actually British. I thought he was born and raised in New York."

"I think that's part of his magic," Ethan remarked. "He's been able to adapt and weave himself into the fabric of both cultures."

"Do you ever find it hard to switch between the two?" I asked, intrigued.

"Sometimes. I mean, when I first moved, people would constantly ask me to say certain words. It was a bit overwhelming, to be honest. I'd go into a café and order a 'biscuit,' and they'd look at me like I was speaking a different language."

I laughed, picturing the scenario. "I can see how that would be confusing! What did you do?"

"I started picking up on the local slang to fit in a bit more," he said, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Now I say 'cookie' instead of 'biscuit,' but I still can't bring myself to call soda 'pop.'"

"Good choice! Pop sounds so strange," I agreed, smiling. "Do you feel more British or American?"

"Honestly, it's a bit of both. I have my British roots, but after living in New York for several years, I've adopted some American habits," he replied, shrugging. "It can be a little confusing sometimes, especially when I'm back in the UK. My friends always tease me about it."

"Do you think you'll ever settle down in one place?" I asked, genuinely curious about his perspective.

"I think it's hard to say," he admitted, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I love the energy of New York, but there's a comfort in the UK that I can't ignore. Maybe one day I'll find a balance between the two, or I'll just keep hopping back and forth."

"That sounds like an adventure in itself," I said, feeling a sense of camaraderie with him. "I like the idea of embracing different places. It makes life more interesting, doesn't it?"

"Definitely," he agreed. "It's like collecting experiences instead of just things. Each place adds a layer to who you are."

As we continued down the quiet street, I felt the connection between us growing stronger. His accent, his stories—it all felt like a window into his world, and I was eager to explore more. We strolled in comfortable silence for a moment, both of us reflecting on the shared experience of navigating life's twists and turns.