Chapter 13:
The air in London feels different, as if it was circulating its own air though a system that America didn't own. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I don't think so. London is a whole new world, though it really doesn't look all that different from New York: same big buildings, same silly tourist joints, same social class levels. There are English beggars here, along with some wealthy, and surely obnoxious, citizens passing them by without as much as a second glance. Yep. Just like New York.
While stuck in my reverie, I didn't even realize Johnathon coming from behind me to beside me. I nearly jumped when he spoke, startled out of my trance.
"Beautiful, as I thought it would be. But we're still inside the city, and the New York feel isn't going away. I've decided that, after we meet your friend, we are going to the country for a day."
The way he spoke was matter of fact, as if he had no doubt that I would leap at the chance to go out with him. He's not wrong, but his cockiness if frightening.
Be strong, I tell myself. He's just a boy, and you'll be fine. Grow up.
So I do. I grab his hand and twine my fingers through his, surprising him. Then my mouth widens in a nervous but excited smile.
I like Johnathon, and he likes me.. I think. But the best thing yet: I'm finally going to meet Tessa.
Chapter 14:
As we approach Blackfriars Bridge, I feel something building up inside of me. Am I nervous? Extremely. But I also think that doubt is blossoming in me. Will she come? Is the writer even her? Is this a trap?
That thought stops me in my tracks right in front of the bridge. This cannot be trap, I tell myself. I did not come all this way and sacrifice everything to be humiliated with a trap.
Johnathon released my hand (yes, we've been holding hands the entire time we had been in London), sensing me hesitate. He whirled me to face him, holding my shoulders at arms length and looking into my eyes.
"What's wrong?", he said, searching my eyes, my mouth, my entire face for the answer.
"What-what if this isn't what it seems? What if she's not who she says she is? What if it's all a trap? A cruel joke?", I sputtered on the last words, and tears came to my eyes. No, I scolded myself, you are not allowed to cry. You cannot cry.
But I cried. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into an embrace. And we stood that way for a long time, me sobbing into his chest, him never releasing me.
He is my rock. He can keep me strong. I pulled away, wiping my face quickly with my palm, trying to regain my composure. Then I looked up at him.
"Okay," I said. "I'm ready."
Then we turned, intertwining our fingers, and stepped onto the bridge.
Chapter 15:
After pushing through the masses, Johnathon and I decide to wait. We sit on a bench that's currently occupied by a young couple. They are kissing compassionately, and the awkwardness is strong enough you could cut it with a butter knife. I turn towards Johnathon to suggest we move, but his facial expression stops me.
He's staring at the couple, not with disgust or humor, but with awe. As if he'd never seen anyone kiss before. Grabbing his hand, I pulled us up out of our seats, accidentally bumping the couple. They stop and turn, finally acknowledging our presence. The girl's face changes with surprise and recognition, and the boy's changes to a look of hatred. Luckily, his isn't directed towards me. It's towards Johnathon.
Johnathon obviously doesn't realize who the boy is, because there's not malice in his eyes. They are solid black, unclouded by their usual emotions. I've only seen this in the training room, when he goes into battle mode. Uh-oh.
"Er, I'm sorry we bumped into you. We need to go.", I announce, hoping to get away before there's a brawl in the middle of the bridge. I tug at Johnathon's arm, and he let me drag him away. Thank goodness, or he'd have destroyed that boy.
"Wait!", came a voice from behind me. As I turn, I realize it was the girl who spoke. I faced her, and she took a hesitant step towards me.
Johnathon watched every moment she made, matched every step. As she neared me, he slid in front of me.
"What?", he said sharply. "What could you possibly want with Jessica?" Did he know these people? What's going on?
"Sebastian, get out of my way. I'm trying to talk to my friend. She will recognize my words from the letters I sent her.", the girl replied promptly.
My heart dropped to my abdomen and my stomach leaped into my throat. I was breathless, feeling as if I had just ridden a rollercoaster that went upside down without a seatbelt. The world seemed to fall off it's axis, making me dizzy. Tessa? She is the Tessa? This makes no sense. I finally have a face to match my savior, my teacher; I finally did it.
Strong hands grab me, but I've no clue as to whose they are. The world's still spinning, but I'm solid. I look at the hands, then the arm, then the torso, landing on my holder's face. It's the young boy Tessa was kissing. He's handsome, skinny but chorded with muscle. He has black hair, with a silver streak running through it. My mind dawdles on the possibly of it being natural, but I know it's not.
He has a beautiful face, besides the sadness it holds. He has the look of someone who has lived a thousand lives, someone who is worn and tired. It is a strange thing to see on a boy who couldn't be much older than me. His bone structure was delicate, which on any other boy would have made him look weak, but on him it was magnificent. His eyes were dark, but their precise coloring was shielded by his hair's shadow.
"Careful," he said softly. He held my arm, gently by firmly, and turned to look at Tessa.
"Hello, Jessica," she said. Her words were like a drug, intoxicating me with their honesty and sweetness. "I've been waiting so long to meet you. Did you do as I instructed?"
