—William Shakespeare

"Just open your eyes," he said over the buzzing murmurs of everyone else.

"No." I kept my face furrowed in his warm shoulder, and felt the quake of laughter rolling through him.

"We're completely enclosed." Julian tried to reason with me. "And we're barely moving. Just look. This is about the speed at which a tortoise runs."

"Twice as fast as a tortoise's run, to be fair," an unfamiliar, accented voice said nearby.

I looked up from the shield of Julian's skin and saw an older man in a tweed newsboy cap. He stood about as tall as Julian, in tan-colored slacks that peeked out from under his long, dark trench coat. A fringed, gray, wool scarf swirled around his neck. He looked to be in his fifties, maybe a bit older, and the tip of his nose was bright red.

Julian and I both looked at the man pleasantly, not really knowing what to say.

"Alright?" he asked neither of us in particular.

"Yeah, fine, thanks," Julian replied, leaving me confused. The stranger took notice of my expression.

"American?" With a knowing grin, the stranger directed his question at me.

"Yes, sir," I said. "First time in London. First time outside the states, actually."

"What a place to find yourself in." The man chuckled. "I assure you, the sights are out there, not in this presumably fine young man's jacket."

I felt myself reddening. Julian scowled, and I gave him a pleading look.

"You see right there?" The man pointed through the glass capsule, beyond the city lights reflecting on the south bank of the River Thames beneath us. "Buckingham Palace. Headquarters of the Monarch."

It was just past sunset, and dark enough for most buildings to have their lights turned on, but still bright enough to see miles in every direction. My stomach churned slightly at the sensation of being so far above the ground, but I soon found myself awing over the Christmas lights decorating the city. Red, double-decker buses crossed the closest bridge.

"Right there is the Tower of London." The stranger pointed, "And you see there? Saint Paul's, over Ludgate Hill."

"And Wimbledon." Julian pointed, trying to steal my attention back. He was behind me, encasing me, with his arms wrapped tightly under my chest. In my ear, Julian whispered as softly as he could, "Quite dodgy, isn't he?"

"Have you taken the missus to Westminster?" the older man asked Julian.

"Right, will have to do that," Julian said, gripping me tighter, and not bothering to look at him.

"I remember the first time taking my wife to the north banks," the man said, peering through the glass beside us.

"Is she home tonight?" I innocently asked.

"She's resting." He tightened the wool scarf to his skin, but the crack in his voice gave me the impression she was not simply napping.

"How long have you lived in London?" I tried to gently change the subject. He was openly friendly, which did cast some doubt on Julian's frequent claims that all Londoners were ruthless and rude.

"All of my fifty-two years," the man said with a gleam in his brown eyes.

"Haven't seen enough of the city then?" Julian rudely remarked.

"Couldn't miss the chance to see it dusted with snow, now could I?" He had no animosity in his tone, just longing.

Our ride was coming to an end, and we thought the middle-aged man was finished conversing with us. Out of nowhere, he turned around once more and spoke to us again.

"You mustn't take it for granted," he plainly stated.

"Take what for granted?" Julian wasn't going to take the bait, so I did.

"Life. Health. Vitality. Your youth. Your love." Something in his features made me feel like I knew him, was connected to him somehow. Or maybe it was just his words. I was always too concerned with words. "Let go of hate and sadness. Find your happiness, grip it with all of your might, and everything else will fall into place."

Julian was growing agitated by the stranger's interference in our moment. "Right, then. Cheers."

Before I could study him any longer, the man tipped his hat and turned to exit the stopped capsule, disappearing within a group of people.

"Off his trolley." Julian laughed into my ear. His rough fingers found my hand, gripping it tightly, as we stepped off the Ferris wheel into the city. "I was about to tell him to get stuffed. If you hadn't been here, I would have."

"So rude," I scolded Julian playfully. "You don't need me to be around, in order to behave yourself."

"I can't behave with you around, actually." I caught Julian's mischievous smile in my peripheral vision, as we made our way past shops and eateries on cobblestone paths. We were approaching the National Theatre. "I noticed you lied to him, though."

"Huh?" I eyed snow-sprinkled wreaths that decorated the street lights, and walked closer beside Julian, sharing in his warmth.

"He asked if you were American, and you said yes." He nuzzled my hair. "Here, I thought you were Italian?"

"Funny." I feigned a laugh. "Where are you taking me?"

"You're a poet, where should I take you first?" he hinted.

I racked my brain and came up with nothing. "I don't know, there are too many applicable first stops."

Julian checked his watch, and when he lifted his wrist, I was thrilled to notice he was still wearing the Disney bracelet. "Should still be open for a half hour."

Once the oak and thatch arena came into view, I knew exactly where we were headed.

"Shakespeare's Globe." I figured it out too late.

...

"Will you take one more picture of me?" I asked Julian, and he nodded enthusiastically. I stood on the steps just outside the open air theater, giving a thumbs up for the camera.

"Would you like me to take one of you both?" an elderly woman asked. Julian shook his head at me, not wanting to pose.

"Yes, please," I graciously accepted her offer.

Julian held his arm low around my waist in front of the theater and gave a small smile.

When I looked at the final product, I had to laugh. The poor old woman took the photograph slanted and off center, but I still loved it.

"Where now?" Julian thought aloud. "Maybe Tate Modern."

After a quick ten minute walk, we found ourselves there. The incredible museum was open late, and Julian appeased me by letting me waste an hour and a half inside.

"These exhibits are just fascinating," I said, apologizing to Julian for dragging him through so many. "Much better than the museum in Tucson."

"When did you go to the one in Tucson?" Julian wondered.

"You were staying with me, actually," I said. "I went with Eric, the day I got out of work early."

"Who?" Julian slowed the pace of his walking.

"Eric. My coworker," I said. "I must have told you about him?"

"No, you never did," Julian said critically.

"Oh, well, his beat at the paper is arts and museums. Our boss was out of the office that day, and I had nothing much to do, so he let me go to the museum with him, then I was able to leave early," I explained.

"How kind of him," Julian said sarcastically as we were approaching the exit.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing." Julian shook his head. "Sorry. It's nothing."

"You sure?" I pressed, not entirely convinced.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Julian gave me a weak smile.

"Okay." I dropped it. "Well, thank you for taking me here. This was beautiful."

"We're not done yet. One more stop tonight," Julian said.

He took us across a footbridge, and midway through, stopped to buy us some delicious, sweet smelling, roasted peanuts.

"Two, please," Julian said, pointing to the sign with prices.

The man nodded and eagerly overstuffed two thick paper cones with the warm snack.

"Three quid," the vendor asked with a smile.

"There." Julian gave him a little extra, noticing his slow night. I grinned approvingly at my kindhearted, generous man.

We devoured the sugared peanuts long before we caught sight of Saint Paul's Cathedral, gorgeously illuminated in the night with spotlights. In front of it, yellow bulbs were strewn around a huge Christmas tree amidst the center court. Smaller, leafless trees outlined the property, and their black branches were decorated with bluish-white lights. The smallest particles of snow clung to the trees, making even the air itself feel magical.

"We can't go inside the church right now. I'll bring you back for that another day this week," Julian promised. "But I had to show you the look of it at nighttime, with the trees all alight."

"I'm glad you did." I held my camera out to take several pictures of us by the huge Christmas tree. When I found my favorite one in the digital roll, I forwarded it to Laina.

"You're taking as many as I did at Disney." Julian chuckled, and gently slipped a finger under the chain of my arrow necklace.

I kissed his cold lips softly, until I felt them warm under mine.

"Are you trying to distract me?" The smirk playing on his mouth illustrated his repose.

"Is it working?" I asked, before we were interrupted.

"Julian?" a male voice called nearby, higher pitched than I was used to hearing. "Julian Miles?"

Julian took a step to the side, in front of and away from me, then looked around.

"Wow, I can't believe it," a teenager said, walking up to Julian. "I'm a massive fan of Ascend the Stars! Fancy seeing you here!"

"Cheers, mate!" Julian grinned. "What can I do for you?"

"May I take a photo with you?" the young guy asked, with his voice full of hope.

"Of course," Julian said, taking the teen's phone and utilizing its front facing camera lens. He draped his arm casually around the kid, as if they were old friends.

"There you go." Julian handed it back with a pat on the teen's shoulder.

"Thanks!" He stared at Julian, then me, and walked backwards several steps before turning to run.

"The Julian Miles." I slipped my hands into Julian's leather jacket pockets, warming them within the soft lining.

"Don't go giving me a big head." Julian brushed it off. "You need to keep me grounded, Brooke."

"You don't need me for that," I assured him. "You're too humble, if anything."

"You want to go back to my flat? It's gone nine o'clock already." His cheeks were red against the whipping wind. "I'll make you dinner."

"Yeah, let's go," I agreed. "We can make it together."

On our walk back, we passed lots of small shops, most of which were closed. The few that were open, I noticed, were tattoo parlors.

"I've been wanting to get a tattoo," Julian announced after we passed the second parlor.

"Of what?" It was only natural to inquire.

"I haven't decided yet." Julian shrugged. "I want it to mean something, you know? Not just color in my skin for the fun of it, like Mase does."

"His tattoos don't mean anything to him?" I half asked, half deduced.

"Not too many of them." Julian laughed. "It's more about the image. Looking tough."

"Which is strange," I surmised. "I might've been intimidated by him if I didn't know him. But he's just so laid back and friendly, it's hard to think of him any other way now."

"Yeah, strange how those things are," Julian noted while adjusting his hat. "I guess we all feel the need to reinvent ourselves sometimes."

Julian broke the few moments of silence that passed between us by abruptly picking me up into his arms.

"What are you doing?" I asked, surprise lacing my voice as it cracked. He gave me a soft smile, with even softer eyes, while rubbing the tip of his cold nose on my skin.

"I'm taking you home." He pressed his forehead to mine, as my feet dangled off his arms. Surely, Jules knew I could walk for myself, but I couldn't ever protest an opportunity to be wrapped up into him. The nippy, bitter cold air was made warmer and sweeter by the scent of his cologne.

While still carrying me, Julian twirled us around on the dark cobblestone of the narrow pathway that led us right back to his place. And my place, for the time being. Even temporarily, it felt good to think it was one and the same.

...

When I finished mashing the potatoes, Julian was still dicing the onions and carrots, so I moved over to help him.

"What should I preheat it to?" I pointed to his stainless steel stove.

"About 200 should do it." He used the back of his hand to wipe his brow.

"For all this prep work, it better be good." My teasing only made his smile grow.

"I can't believe you've never had shepherd's pie." He shook his head and glanced at his massive window walls.

Outside Julian's apartment, the city was dimming with fog and sleepy streets. Building upon the surface of the glass was steam, from the heat on this side of the panes meeting the chill on the other.

We had used the foggy panes to write silly messages to each other.

J + B

I love my merciless American

...erm Italian

"I'll be completely British by the end of these next two weeks." Maybe because I want to stay permanently, I added silently.

"Fortnight," Julian corrected me. "Two weeks is a fortnight."

"Are you going to keep translating for me? Or will you teach me some slang?" I nudged his arm with my elbow.

"You've picked up on quite a bit already, but I'll teach you some more." He reached for a clean, white rag to wipe his fingers.

"I'm chuffed to bits with how this pie is turning out," Julian said, pausing to point to the pan. "Quite pleased."

"Snog," he went on. "That's what I'd love to do with you."

"Sounds disgusting." I watched Julian place the pan into the hot oven and set the timer.

"Would you like a demonstration?" He pulled me close to his warm body.

Before I could agree or decline, his mouth was on mine, tongue rounding the curves of my parted lips. Some time passed like this, but I couldn't tell how much. I wanted only to keep exploring more of him. I wanted to know Julian's lips, his body, better than my own.

His hands traveled along my skin, causing a blast of heat to radiate in my face.

"Watching you blush from my touch will never, ever get old," he whispered.

"Not in five years." He kissed my top lip, bringing the skin into his mouth.

"Not in ten years." He moved to my bottom lip, repeating the action.

"Not in twenty." Julian's hands were trickling through my long hair, all the way from the roots to the ends. Somehow, they didn't even get caught on a snag along the way.

"Not in my entire life." Though Julian was trying his best to conceal his rapid breathing, his undulating chest gave away his secret.

"I'm so in love with you." I breathed the words, and he closed his eyes while rubbing the tip of his nose on mine.

"You don't know how much I love you." The only pair of rough hands I'd ever craved found the skin of my hips, sending tremors along the arch of my back.

Without a word, Julian lifted me onto the granite countertop, contouring my neck with slow, scorching kisses.

I only opened my eyes when he touched my earlobe.

"These are pretty," Julian commented softly on the silver bow earrings.

"Oh, thanks." I burned with embarrassment.

"I've never seen you wear these before," he noted, then continued to kiss along my tensed shoulder.

"They're new," I admitted. "They were a Christmas gift."

"Oh?" Julian trailed the skin of my arms. "From Laina or something?"

"Just someone at work. At the holiday office party." I didn't want to lie to Julian, and knew I had no reason to fib.

He stopped cold and put more inches between us than I was comfortable accepting.

"Like a gift exchange type of thing?" He kept one arm around my back, and the other on my thigh.

"Not really. I didn't get him anything. He just showed up with it." I shrugged.

"Him?" Julian's sharp intake of breath was audible even through my blood-filled, pounding ears.

"Eric," I answered honestly, and quietly, not wanting to create any more tension.

"You're wearing jewelry that some bloke gave to you? And I haven't heard his name until just today?" Julian pulled his hands away slowly and bored his russet eyes into me.

"I didn't know he was going to give me anything." I peered straight into his eyes and tried not to disintegrate from his stare. "It was just a friendly gesture, and I thought they were pretty. That's why I wore them. That's all."

"Yeah, quite friendly." Julian turned his back to me and ran his calloused fingers over his golden brown, wispy curls.

"Julian." My tone came across as begging.

"Is this why I've had a more difficult time trying to reach you on some days?" he asked with his back still turned away from me.

"What days? Julian, I love you. I never intentionally ignore you, and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I was. I'd rather talk to you than do anything else." I pushed myself down onto the floor from the tall counter.

"And there's nothing between you and him? Eric or whatever?" Julian finally turned to face me, looking completely flustered.

"No," I swore to him. "You're the only one for me."

My words seemed to be working. His shoulders relaxed more into a slouch, from the stiff position they were in just a moment earlier. I drifted over to him cautiously, looking for any clue that he might not have wanted me near him. He stayed still.

"Don't you trust me, Jules?" Instinctively, my thin arms wrapped around him, trying to encompass him the way he always did me. Julian let out a long, winded sigh.

"I trust you." His voice was soft as he reciprocated my embrace. "I just get paranoid with you living so far away."

"And my promises don't mean anything?" Hurt was clear in my meek voice.

"Of course they do." Julian brushed through my hair with his fingers. "It's going to take a while to work past my insecurities. Sometimes, it's just nice to be shown, too, along with being told."

I considered this for a short while as we decompressed in the middle of the kitchen, then I lifted his arms to help him out of his thick, black sweater.

"What are you doing?" he asked, but didn't object to my touch. His sweater, then mine, decorated the light hardwood floor.

"Showing you." I kissed his burning neck and traced my fingers along his stomach. Already, I was fairly positive that Julian was starting to forget all about his fears, doubts, and diffidence. The soft groan that slipped through his parted, full lips just proved it to me. "We do have forty-five minutes until dinner is ready."

"Brooke," he murmured. All of his resistance melted into a pool below us.

"You're the only one," I promised him, with not only my words, but my painted nails that grazed his half flexed arms. "It's only ever been you. It will always be you."

I held his hand, leading the love of my life to his disheveled bed, as our meal browned and bubbled in the blistering heat of the oven. My skin felt much the same under the pressure of his body, while Julian gave me the most entrancing sensation of flying and falling, all at the same time.