Harlyn
"He's late," Elly says, tapping the toe of her boot against the statue of Geoffrey Chaucer.
"Since when do you care about punctuality, El?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.
"I'm cold," she whines. I pull her into a hug and rub my hands up and down her arms.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Max says, checking his phone for the fifteenth time. "He's not usually late."
"I'm here. So sorry." We all turn to find Finley jogging toward us, hair whipping around his face in the wind. "Was on the phone with my parents. They, uh, called as I was heading out and I hadn't talked to them on the phone since I got in, so..." He shrugs, a puff of steam escaping his mouth.
Max's shoulders tense a little. "Everything ok?" he asks slowly.
Finley shakes his head slightly. "Yeah. Just the normal. Making sure I'm being...perfect." He practically spits the last word, and Max mutters something softly, stepping closer to him. This conversation feels way too personal for me to be eavesdropping, so I look at Elly, who's annoyance has shifted to concern.
I don't notice that Finley's pulled Max closer to us until he's talking. "Anyway, sorry again. What's the plan, Stan?"
His face is still tight, but he's forcing a smile, so I decide not to comment. Instead, I spread my arms dramatically.
"Well, where do you want to go first in our grand city?" I ask.
Elly rolls her eyes. "You're so dramatic, Harley," she says, adjusting her scarf.
"I know. I also know that you've already seen the cathedral, and I assume that most of the big touristy things you'll see with that...one class you were talking about yesterday," I say. "What did they show you on the tour they took you on?"
"Um, well, not a whole lot," Max says, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. His glasses slide halfway down his nose. "The cathedral. The theater - the Marlowe? We walked down High Street." He looks at Finley. "And then we got a tour of the library and campus."
"Perfect!" I exclaim. "We'll start here."
I point out the Chaucer statue behind Elly, launching into tour guide mode. We follow High Street toward the Westgate Towers.
"You've been to Nando's, right?" Elly asks, stopping in front of Nando's as if she intends to take them right now if they say no. But Finley's face lights up.
"Yes! We went the other day. So good," he says. Max nods enthusiastically.
Elly smiles. "Good. Just checking."
We continue on. I tell them about the Westgate Towers, about the Victorian jail at the top that's now an escape room.
"We should totally do it!" Max says, shaking Finley's shoulders from behind. Finley looks doubtful, but Elly claps her hands and agrees enthusiastically, linking her hands through the crook of Max's elbow. I feel a pang of jealousy hits my chest, but I brush it away. Max is cool. It's fine. Innocent until proven guilty.
I try to keep Finley's attention as we walk down part of the riverside path and then cut back into town to get to Rheims Way. Every time I stop talking, his face goes a little slack and his gaze wanders into the distance. So, I keep talking. So does Elly, answering their questions about her accounting major and telling them stories from our time at school. I cringe every time she mentions a girlfriend. She likes to rub in the fact that I've had four girlfriends and an "innumerable amount of dates."
"Yeah, Harley was quite a playboy when we were in school. All the girls loved him," Elly says, hand still through Max's elbow. Max gives me an appraising look. I've mentioned my exes to Max. Well, Mum did when she told me that she saw Marie working at Sainsbury's. But I didn't exactly use the word playboy - neither did Mum. I want to argue that that wasn't true. I certainly didn't see myself that way. I just...thought having a girlfriend was what you were supposed to do.
"I haven't dated anyone in almost two years," I remind Elly. If I can't defend my past self, I can at least show that I've changed. "Been too busy with school and work for romance."
"Lame," Elly says. "What about you two? Any girlfriends back home?"
"Nope," Max says. "Neither does Finley. He's gay."
I swing my gaze to Finley, whose lips are pursed tightly like he's holding his breath. He doesn't seem surprised or angry that Max blurted it. But his eyes still slide nervously from Elly's face to mine. I smile at him, hoping it's encouraging and not awkward. It feels awkward. "That's great." Finley lets out a breath.
"Um, thanks?"
"Wait, so do you have a boyfriend?" Elly asks. "Or are you looking to find one?" She shakes her shoulders a little. "I'm sure I can find you some cute boys." I roll my eyes.
Finley chuckles. "That's ok. But thank you for the offer."
Max gives Finley a disapproving look. "He won't let me set him up, either," he says.
"Because I can find my own guys, thank you," Finley snaps. Max rolls his eyes.
"Don't mind Elly," I say. "She just likes to meddle." Elly scoffs in mock hurt.
"It's ok. It's sweet," Finley assures.
"Oh, so when she offers to get you a date, it's sweet. But when I offer, I'm annoying," Max complains.
"You've been offering since I came out to you, Max," Finley says. "Six years of failed attempts has kind of dampened the effect. I know it comes from the kindness of your heart. I promise."
"How did, er, how did you two meet?" I ask, fascinated how these two, polar opposites, are best friends. Their interactions yesterday and today definitely show how close they are, but I don't have any backstory.
Max launches into a dramatic story starting with "once upon a time." How they grew up in the same small town in the States. How they've been in the same year since they were four. How Max shared his blocks with Finley and another girl named Holly on the first day of school. Finley's head ducks when Max says Holly's name. Apparently, the three of them were inseparable, all the way through school.
"We had our ups and downs, of course," Max says, sighing like he's an old man relaying a story about war. He talks about him thinking Finley was pining after Holly and Finley coming out to stop his nagging. How they told Holly soon after. But then Holly went to a different university, hours away. And they drifted apart. I tell Elly that better not happen to us, and then we're approaching our next stop.
"Ah, here we are. One of the coolest places in Canterbury," I announce.
"Says the history nerd," Elly says. We round the corner, walking along the waist high hedges. The castle looms to the left, surrounded by a chain link fence. It's falling down, so we can't go inside. But I lead the way through the little side street so we can get to the grounds.
"This is Canterbury Castle," I say, stopping just inside the gates of the castle grounds, a small area of grass around the crumbling structure with a pathway and plaques.
Max grins. "This is cool!" he says, pulling Elly along the path to read the first plaque. Elly stops, too, but she's read the plaques before. She just stares at the castle.
I turn to find Finley standing, dumbstruck, just inside the gates, scanning the ruins. It's definitely seen better days. It's kept it's square shape, but the top half is gone and the upper edge dips up and down where the stones have eroded unevenly. Someone filled one doorway with red brick and covered another with bars so no one can go in. But it's still impressive.
"What do you think?" I ask Finley, moving closer.
He swings his head to look at me, eyes wide. "Oh, um...it's amazing," he breathes. "We don't really have, you know, ruins in the States. I mean, we do. Native American ruins. Things like that. But definitely not in Illinois. All we have is cornfields."
I laugh. "It is pretty cool. I love coming here, even though I can't go in." We turn back to the castle. "Mum brought me here when I was finally old enough to read. She studied history, too, at Uni. Part of the reason I decided to study history."
"What was the rest of the reason?" he asks.
I stare at him for a moment before stuttering, "I - It's weird."
Finley snorts. "I'm as weird as it gets. You won't scare me off."
"A-Alright," I stammer, trying to form into words what fascinates me so much about history. "Erm. When I was younger, probably 10 or 11, we visited the cathedral on a school trip. I'm sure I'd been before, but only when mum decided she wanted to go to service. We got a big tour, and we learned all about Thomas Beckett. I'm sure you'll learn about him, too, but long story short, he was an archbishop of Canterbury who was killed in the cathedral. And they know the spot in the cathedral where he died." Finley's eyes widen.
"Whoa. Intense."
"I know," I exclaim. "It blew my tiny mind. I was suddenly very aware that I was standing on a floor where a person who lived, like, a thousand years ago stood. And that..." I pause. "That was weird. But also really cool. I'd always learned history like it was a book, like the people weren't real. But in that moment, it was real." I turn to look at the castle. "Just like this. At some point, real people lived in this thing. Can you imagine?"
"I know exactly what you mean," he says. I look at him again. "I've felt that, too. I'm so excited to explore the cathedral and everything else here. There's so much history everywhere. It's...intoxicating."
"Intoxicating, huh?" I ask, watching the excited shine in his eyes and the way his hands flutter in front of him.
He ducks his head. "Told you I was a nerd. And I'm a writer. I'm always thinking about ways to describe things. Sometimes it comes out. Sorry."
"Don't apologize," I say. "Seriously. Don't. That's the best word I've ever heard to describe history." He smiles. "I assume you're taking some history classes this term, then?"
"Yeah," he says. "I mean, we have Sites and Sights, which I know you know about. One of the required ones for our program. That's history. The other required class is kind of history, too, the history of the relationship between England and the U.S. And then I'm taking an American lit class, and an American history class."
"You came all the way to England to take an American history class?"
"Yes, well, that class and the American lit class were two of the only classes that would transfer back to my school in the States and fill the last credits I need to finish my degree." He shrugs.
"Well, it will certainly be interesting to see your history through our eyes." I pause. "Wait. Is your history lecture Thursdays at ten?"
"Um, yeah I think so," he says.
"Well, Finley Bowers. Looks like you've got a class buddy in yours truly," I inform him. He gives me a smile, and a bit of relief touches his eyes.
"Really? Well, that's great," he breathes. "Built-in study partner." We gaze at the castle again, and as much as I want him to go read the plaques and enjoy the grounds, I don't want to stop talking.
"So...a writer?" I ask, latching on to the first thing that comes to mind.
He gives me a shy smile. "Yeah." But then his face falls, the same darkness from earlier clouding his eyes. "But I'm studying to be an English teacher. Not much money in writing."
Before I have time to protest, to ask more about why he looks so miserable at the idea of teaching English, Max and Elly reappear, giggling.
Max looks from me to Finley. "I can't believe that you, Finley Bowers, have not read every single plaque already," he says. "That's not like you at all." Finley looks longingly at the plaque behind Max.
"I distracted him. Go on. We can wait." He gives me an uncertain look, and I grab his arm and push him toward the first sign. "Go." He finally hurries away and starts intently reading.
"You are great tour guides," Max says. "Not that I doubted, but you've definitely got the job."
I watch Finley wander around the castle's corner and snap a picture on his phone. The little squeeze of apprehension that has sat in my chest about trusting Max - and Finley by extension - for the last week or so starts to fade. I'm still hesitant, but there's something about the two of them that I can't put my finger on that's sucking me in and breaking down my walls.