Harlyn
"Evans!" Bobbi's shrill voice cuts through the din of people.
I call out "Order 1124!" before turning to find her weaving through the other employees, wisps of brown hair coming out of her hat at odd angles. A customer comes to claim the bag I place on the counter. "Thank you. Have a nice day."
"Evans," Bobbi says again, stopping next to me.
"What?" I turn and look at the monitor for the next order.
"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," she says, helping me gather the sandwiches in front of us into a bag. "Collins just called."
"Bobbi," I sigh
"He can't come in for the night shift. You're not scheduled tomorrow. Please." She grabs a cup and sets the bag and cup on the counter. "Order 1125!" She smiles at the customer that comes forward.
"Bobbi, I'm not scheduled tomorrow because I have plans," I say. "Also, I asked for less hours this term."
"I know."
"I've worked almost every day this week."
"I know."
I place a burger in the bottom of a bag and take a deep breath. "I can't. Call Marty. He's always wanting more hours."
"But he's hardly trained on the register at all. I'll be babysitting him all night," Bobbi whines.
I shrug her off. She scoffs and moves over to a register where Hannah is calling her over for a manager code.
"Order 1126!" The customer that comes forward catches my eye. He takes the bag and thanks me with a smile. And then he goes back toward the front door, looping his arm around another guy's shoulders and kissing him on the side of the head. I watch as they wander outside and disappear up High Street. They look happy.
I'm snapped back to reality by Daniel, who's barking at me that the fryer is going off. But I think about the couple for the rest of my shift. And Finley. I've wanted to ask him about...well, about being gay, but I'm not sure if that's weird or not. So, I haven't.
I clock out at the end of my shift, ignoring the daggers that Bobbi's eyes throw at me, and start toward home. My phone chimes in my pocket, and I pull it out to find a text from Finley.
Finley:
Q Victoria's full name is Alexandrina Victoria?? Are you kidding me?? No wonder she went with Victoria. Can you imagine fitting Alexandrina Regina on coins? Teaching 5 year olds who the queen is?
I laugh and pause before the roundabout to answer.
Me:
Didn't you learn her full name when you were at Kensington Palace??
Finley:
Um. Probably? But my brain doesn't always process everything at first.
He's been on a Queen Victoria kick since his trip to London with Max on Saturday. He keeps sending me random things as he learns them. And they're hilariously out of context and out of chronology. I scroll through some of his other exclamations.
Finley:
I want a romance like she and Albert had.
Finley:
Ok. The sodomy laws aren't great. Neither is the possibility that she was going to support the south during the Civil War. Not cool.
Finley:
This chick is a badass. Took over at 18. Reinvented the monarchy. Told everyone who wanted to control her to suck it. Wish I was brave enough to do that.
I think about that last one as I walk home. I'm curious what he means by that. I didn't ask. Just added it to my ever-growing list of Finley questions and wholeheartedly agreed that Queen Victoria was indeed a badass - a complicated one, hence the sodomy laws and civil war thing. But we all have complexities.
The house is dark when I get home, but Max's door is open. I knock softly on it before sticking my head in.
"Oh hey, Harlyn," Max greets, sitting up on his bed, his phone pressed to his ear.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I say, but Max shakes his head.
"Yeah, he just got home from work," he says into the phone. "It's Finley."
"Oh. Hi Finley!" I say, projecting my voice a little.
"He says hi," Max says. He listens for a long moment before looking back at me. "He says hello and says to tell you that he can't believe that Queen Victoria is Anastasia's great grandmother and was the reason that Anastasia's brother had hemophilia. Wait what?" His eyes widen. "Incest? Gross." I laugh.
"Tell him I've been enjoying his random Victoria facts," I say.
"You heard that?" He listens again and laughs. "I'll tell him. Text me if you need anything else, ok?" He pauses. "Ok. Bye." He tosses his phone to the foot of his bed. "He says he's glad he can entertain you."
I laugh, but Max bites his lip. "Everything ok?" I ask.
He looks up at me. "Hm? Oh, yeah. All good." He swings his legs over the side of his bed. "So, he's been texting you a lot?"
I sink into his desk chair. "Yeah. Just random stuff. Mostly about Queen Victoria. A little about your cathedral tour today." Max hums, staring at me intently. "What?"
"Nothing. So." He leans his elbows on his knees. "You got any girls in your life?"
I cough out a laugh. That was not what I was expecting. "Erm. No. No."
"What about that girl from Friday night that Elly pointed out?"
"Francesca? She was in a study group with me last term. Super smart. Super cute. Super sweet." Max gives me a "go on" gesture with his hands. "I dunno. The end of last term was really stressful. My coursework was really heavy. I was taking a lot of shifts at work. I told you about the student who was here before you. It was a lot. And just...I dunno. I never acted on it. I also just don't like her as much as I did last term. Crushes, you know?"
Max stares at me. "Yeah. I guess that makes sense. Anyone else catching your eye?" I frown at him.
"Not that I know of." I lean toward him. "Should there be?"
"No. Not unless you want. Just wondering." He lays back down on his bed. "How was work?"
We chat for a bit, and then I excuse myself to take a shower. When I'm finally laying in my bed, I take out my phone. Finley has seemed fine texting me today, but Max looked worried.
Me:
Max seemed a bit worried about you. Everything good?
It takes a few minutes before he answers, and I can't help but wonder if he's being careful with his response.
Finley:
Yeah. Just a long day. Got a lot in my head.
Hm. Tactful. I decide not to press. For now.
Me:
Good. So. Anymore crazy things about Victoria you've discovered?
***
"So, then she says I'm always hogging the coffee pot. How does someone hog the coffee pot? We all use the same coffee. When I make coffee, anyone can drink the effing coffee. It's ridiculous." Elly takes her first breath in almost five minutes.
"I don't know what to tell you, El," I say. "People are annoying."
"There's annoying and there's just downright wrong, Harlyn," she says, her face stubborn and hard. "Why do I get all the weird ones?"
I put my arm around her shoulders. "Maybe they know you'll be able to handle them."
She scoffs and nudges her head under my chin. "Yeah, right."
"Why don't you come around mine tomorrow for dinner?" I suggest. "Marley and Mel are visiting. Might be a nice change of pace."
She peeks up at me. "That would be really nice." I nod.
Max's voice echoes from across the street. "My two favorite Brits!" he exclaims, opening his arms wide as he and Finley cross the street toward us.
"Wow. I'm honored, babes," Elly says, pulling away a bit but letting me keep my arm around her.
Max bows his head when they reach us. "It's true. So. Shall we? Beautiful weather for a day at the beach." We all look at the sky - gray and wet - and back at Max who's grinning and shrugging. "It was a joke."
"Yes, well, there's not really a good day in February to go to the beach," I say, moving toward the train station behind us and pulling Elly along under my arm. "But Brighton is beautiful, no matter the weather."
"Also, we brought food," Finley announces, holding up, God help me, a McDonald's bag. Elly giggles, and Finley's face falls. "Oh, we're actual idiots."
"No, no. It's ok," I laugh. "I already ate. So, you guys go right ahead."
Max giggles and pats Finley on the back. We grab tickets, and are on the train in no time. Elly and Max start chatting about Marvel movies and they dig into the breakfast sandwiches and hash browns. Elly and I finally finished our marathon last weekend, three weeks later than we wanted. But we did it. I chime in a bit, commenting on my favorite characters and scenes. Finley throws a few thoughts in, too, but he seems distracted. He stares out the window for long stretches until Max asks him his opinion on something. But as soon as he stops talking, he drifts out of the conversation again.
After we change trains in Ashford, Elly lays her head on the table and dozes off. And Finley nods off against the window. How do people sleep on trains? How do people sleep anywhere besides their own beds? I watch his head dip and jerk back up, eyelashes fluttering. I notice for the first time that he has faint freckles across his nose. How didn't I notice that before? Probably because I've been distracted by his hair, trying to figure out who he reminds me of. It finally hits me - Flynn Rider. Flynn Rider doesn't have freckles, though.
"So," Max says softly. I turn to find him staring at me intently. "What's on your mind?"
What do I say to that? At the moment? Finley's on my mind. And he's been on my mind a lot lately. I'm not sure what that means. I've never clicked so easily with someone before. Well, with Elly. But we've just...been friends forever. We've always clicked. But no one has ever consumed my thoughts like this before. How am I supposed to tell Max that? I keep texting your best friend. And it makes me happy. Any thoughts?
Instead, I say, "I'm just trying to figure out what to show you in Brighton first."
When we finally pull into the Brighton train station, Max shakes Elly awake, and I lean over the table to nudge Finley's shoulder.
He sits up and blinks at me. "Here?"
"Yep. Have a good nap?"
We make our way to the platform, and Finley rubs at his eye. "Yeah, actually. Didn't sleep much last night. I can't usually sleep on planes and trains. Especially against the window." We emerge from the station into Brighton, and, miraculously, the sun is shining.
"Well, I'm glad you got some rest. Because welcome to Brighton," I say, starting toward Queens Road. "The sun is shining. We're ten minutes from the beach. And you have your very own tour guide."
Elly rolls her eyes. "Tour guides. There's two of us, Harley. I know Brighton just as well as you do."
I concede and let her take the lead. She points out her favorite stores, relaying stories from our childhood, when our parents would bring us here for weekend trips. Whitstable beach was closer, but Brighton was Mum's favorite. And they couldn't tear us away from the pier. After a few blocks, I point out Queen Victoria's Jubilee Clock Tower to Finley.
"She's just everywhere, isn't she?" Max asks, staring at the sixty foot tall tower, one foot for every year Victoria had reigned at the time it was built.
"Well, she was one of the longest reigning monarchs," Finley says. "Second only to Queen Elizabeth. The current Queen. She's Queen Victoria's what? Great granddaughter?"
"Uh, great-great, I think," Elly says. I stare at her. "What? I listen when you talk. Sometimes."
We can just barely see the Channel now, peaking through the buildings as we get closer and closer to the shore. And then we finally hit it. The beach. Max whoops when we finally emerge from the buildings and onto the coastal road. He darts across the street as soon as he can, arms flapping, sprints down the nearest ramp onto the beach, and heads straight for the water. Thankfully, he doesn't actually step in. It might be sunny, but it's still only five degrees. His feet would be soaked and cold the rest of the day. We catch up to him as he dips his fingers into the water.
"I thought you were going to plunge right in," Elly says, huffing a bit from stomping through the beach's pebbles. Max stands straight and without any warning at all, sticks his cold, wet fingers under the collar of Elly's jacket. She squeals and jumps away. Max follows, dipping his fingers in water again.
Finley and I laugh, and I turn to see him fully grinning, mouth open, eyes bright, so much different from his demeanor on the train. He watches them as they continue along the beach, Elly fighting back with her own fingers dipped in the icy water. Then he turns to look out at the Channel, still grinning, panting slightly.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" I ask. He nods at the water. "Have you ever seen a pebble beach before?"
He shakes his head. "No. I mean, I haven't been to many beaches, actually." I gawk at him, and he grins wider. "I live in the middle of nowhere, remember? Literally. My high school was in the middle of a cornfield. The baseball players had to dig foul balls out of the stalks. Chicago has a few beaches on the lake. And we went to Florida once to go to Disney World as a big family treat. But my parents are central Illinois born and raised. And they're not exactly travelers." He huffs a laugh. "I guess I never pictured beaches when I pictured England."
I laugh, too. "That's fair, I guess. More Oxford, less LA?" He nods. "England is full of surprises, Finley Bowers." I clap him on the shoulder.
We wander along until we meet up with Max and Elly, laying on the beach and giggling like mad. Finley and I pull them to their feet, and we continue on toward the pier that juts out into the water. Elly points out the little shops under the road. Not many are open since it's still so cold, but a few have people going in or coming out.
Max is almost as excited about the pier as he was about the beach, roping Finley - and then Elly and then me and then all of us - in for about a million selfies at the big Brighton Pier sign. Max breezes through the arcade, checking out every game. Elly buys some tokens, and we try a few. I suck, as usual. So, I decide to watch Finley. He actually dominates at a few of the games, and he chalks it up to luck. When Max finds out there are two arcades on the pier, he hurries us along to the second one, past henna tattoo and food and tarot card booths - also mostly closed. And then he spots the amusement park at the end of the pier, smaller than I remember, and starts begging Finley to go on a ride with him.
This brings back so many childhood memories, it almost hurts. We haven't come down to Brighton since Marley went off to Uni, almost six years ago. Mum didn't want to do anything as a family if Marley couldn't come. She said it felt too weird, like we were leaving him out. But since Marley lived in Leeds, a four hour train ride, he didn't come home all that often. And then Elly's mum died, and coming here was too hard for her and her dad. And then we started hosting students, and Mum's been so busy with that and Dad so busy with teaching that we haven't taken a proper family trip in ages. I'd almost forgotten what the swoop of the Crazy Mouse roller coaster or the rush of my bumper car bouncing off Elly's felt like.
Finley mostly watches, smiling fondly as Max darts back and forth between rides, Elly in tow once he realizes he's not going to convince Finley to join him. When Max finally tires and starts getting hungry, we pick up sandwiches and chips at one of the food booths and start walking to the other place I have planned for them, a place I think will be a bit more up Finley's alley.
It's only a few minutes walk, and it kind of pops out of nowhere, sandwiched between an office building and a bunch of trees. But then Finley spots it. And he just stops and stares. And as I watch him, chest swelling, I start to think that the attraction, the pulling I've felt to Finley for the last few weeks isn't just because we've "clicked" - although we definitely have. It's more than that. I just don't know...how much more. And I'm not sure how to figure it out.