When The Sun Sets

5: From Eden

Part One | Chapter Five: From Eden

Hyde Park, London, England

March 1916

"Hey."

The distant voice reaches my ears along with the crunch of the leaves under heavy approaching footsteps. The end of the chapter is near and I won't allow myself to be distracted until I finish it. Not bothering to pick up my pace, I continue calmly reading, waiting for the person calling me to come closer. In the back of my head, I am aware of who it is, because only one person addresses me as just "hey", and that person is not a matter of importance to me up against my book, so I deliberately do not look up.

The voice rings out again, a thick accent. My shoulders drop in resignation as it dawns on me that he's not going to leave me alone as he's never been one to drop a subject in the past. The young man comes closer until he's blocking the sunlight I rely on. I look up at the shadow looming over my sitting figure, shielding the sun with his body. I hold a hand over my forehead, eyes squinted as I look at his darkened face in the shade.

Harry stands over me in his usual business attire that he wears when helping his stepfather at his shop in the city, his hands in his pockets. "If I may have a word with you."

Returning my attention to the book, I flip the page nonchalantly. "Speak."

"Your return to the house is requested. It's almost lunch time."

"And they've sent you to get me?"

"Well, the park is on my way back. Why can't you just sit on the bench instead of getting your dress dirty?"

I check the benches, the wood ruined by the sun. "I'm not too fond of getting sunburnt."

"I see." Harry adjusts his pants and crouches in front of me. He watches me for a second before lunging and taking the book from my hands and holding it in the air out of my reach. I scowl and try to grab it, but he moves to sit beside me, his back against the willow tree I'm under. "It's not even in English."

"English is not my first language," I protest sarcastically, reaching for the book, but he twists his body away. "Give it back!"

"How can you sit here?" he asks mildly, still flipping through the pages. "My ass would hurt after a while. You're sitting on tree roots anyways."

"Give my book back!"

He closes it and tucks it into his jacket pocket. Curse the stupid book for being so small. "It's lunchtime."

"I told your sister I would be out for a while. She's not expecting me back for lunch."

Harry frowns, green eyes transparent under the harsh glare of sunlight. "My mother will have my head if you're not fed."

"That's not my problem."

The corner of his mouth lifts up. "Oh, is it not? I've been thinking about this for a while, how you probably enjoy it when I'm scolded because of you."

"Is this your final hypothesis?"

He nods proudly. "It is. Tell me, do you enjoy hearing me get yelled at because it's happened more times than I can count since you've started living with us again. I can always tell my mother that you prefer to sleep under this tree and then maybe you'll finally leave us alone." Harry rests his head back on the tree truck, waiting for an answer. Now that the sun is out of his eyes, it streams over his pale, smoothly shaved skin, highlighting the summer freckles that weren't there in the winter.

After the final semester, I moved back in with Thea as the girls' dormitories became unavailable for the summer. As I wait for a job to become available in the fall, I have taken Harry's room once more. Returning to France does not seem like an option as I've become familiar with England and prefer it over my homeland. The busy city of London and exciting people has persuaded me to stay. France, to me, reminds me of the dull memories in my life in which I'd be subjected to living in a cold house with the lack of interaction from my family. Thousands of miles from them now, I am more in communication with them now than I was before arriving in England for school. Thea has kindly allowed me to stay in her house for the summer as we both wait for jobs to open and earn enough money to find a place of our own.