A Light in the Dark_Survival of the Fittest Read online

  His shoulders lowered and his easy grin returned. It was the same smile that usually drove her crazy, but tonight it didn’t put her off. Her resolve slipped away and she allowed herself to really look at him. In some ways, after the enlightenment his paper had offered, it was as though it was the first time. He was of course supremely fit, but there was something about him, a certain amount of charisma and easy charm. There was also a scar on his face the day-old stubble darkening his chin didn’t cover.

  They fell back into step, almost like two friends out for a stroll, except they weren’t friends. He was her student, though a few years older than she was according to her internet research, so not exactly scandal inducing, but still . . . The smart thing would be to send him on his way, but the words from his paper came back to her and with them the curiosity.

  It didn’t seem possible that the man who saw a part of himself in an almost disfigured drawing was the same who was walking beside her now. The same man who’d posed for dozens of photos without complaint.

  “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Do what, exactly?” Although Oxford was famous for its diversity and she was accustomed to conversing with all sorts, hearing Bailey’s American accent sent a little flutter through her. Another sign she was heading for danger by simply being near him.

  “The crowds of people forcing themselves on you. How can you stand it?”

  “They don’t mean any harm and,” he shrugged, “I’m used it I guess.”

  “It seems like a hard way to live. Like your life is never your own.”

  “But, that’s only a very small part of it.” He tilted his head to the side, thoughtful. “It’s like what you do—”

  She barked out a laugh, “Hardly.”

  “No, like when you grade papers. That’s part of your job, but not the reason you do it,” he lifted an eyebrow in question, “I’m assuming.”

  “Okay, I’m following and you’re right. The thrill of grading papers isn’t why I chose to study art.”

  “Exactly,” he gestured to the sides with his hands which were tucked into his jacket pockets again, the same way they were the first night he’d walked with her. “Getting followed by the press or hounded for selfie’s isn’t always fun, but it comes with the territory. And, despite all the crazy, getting to write music and play for fans is all I’ve ever wanted.”

  As they waited at a crosswalk for cars to pass, she turned to him. “That can’t be entirely true.”

  “What?”

  “The part about playing music being all you’ve ever wanted.” She gestured in the direction of the school with her hand. “You’re here, aren’t you? You must be looking for something else.” When his steps slowed, she held her breath a beat, certain she’d spoken out of turn. Her mother always chastised her for speaking her mind too freely, a trait many fellow Brits found crude, and now she’d done it again.

  But, it was strange how easy it was to talk to him. She’d never been around someone who could slip so easily into two different personas. There was the accommodating attitude and welcoming smile for the fans and the other, the thoughtful man with hidden feelings and private motivations.

  Finally, the corner of his mouth twitched. “You don’t miss much do you, Miss Freeman?”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding in a rush and smiled. “Observation is part of my job. Well, one of my jobs.”

  “One? How many do you have?”

  “Only two right now.”

  He chuckled and they crossed the street allowing a couple to pass between them before coming together again on the sidewalk.

  “So, is teaching what you want to do after you finish school?”

  “No. Ultimately I’d like to be an art curator, but first I have to finish my research and complete the DPhil program.” As her street came into view a stirring of disappointment moved through her. “What about you? What is it you want to accomplish here?”

  He smiled and with it a wall was erected around whatever his true wishes were. He wasn’t going to let her in, which was clear, but what startled her was how much it bothered her. She had no right, no claim to him and yet she wanted to know what he was thinking.

  She squeezed her eyes closed for a second. Was she crazy? She wanted him to share his innermost thoughts with her, Brie, a practical stranger? Thinking of the crowd in Bullingdon demanding pictures and hugs or whatever piece of him they could get, she bit back a surge of disgust. His desires were his own, as was his privacy. Whatever connection she’d felt with him through his paper was entirely in her head.

  “Hey, are you okay over there? I feel like I lost you.”

  “Nope, all good. I just get caught up in my thoughts sometimes.” She slowed, “Well, this is me.”

  “I remember.” They stopped in front of her house, and Bailey tilted his head back to stare at the sky. “It’s nice out here, different than where I’m from.”

  She tilted her head back to follow his gaze. The stars were bright tonight, alight with a strange excitement, or maybe it was her imagination. She too felt alive, the earlier claustrophobia wiped away. “What do you see when you’re home?”

  He returned his attention to her face, his eyes searching, and for a moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Her heart beat faster, hopeful all the while her head was screaming at her to go inside.

  “I see the ocean, but it isn’t nearly as interesting as what I see here.”

  She didn’t miss his meaning and felt her face flush with heat. “Bailey, we can’t go there.”

  The air seemed to thicken between them and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. He was attractive and unlike she’d first thought, he wasn’t conceited. But, even with her new opinion of him, she couldn’t lose her position at the university by acting foolish. She’d worked too hard.

  He grinned, “Dang, and I was really looking forward to you taking me out for coffee.”

  “Excuse me?” She blinked twice and he offered her a playful smile.

  “Remember in the park when you threw money in my cup?” He sighed. “You ruined a perfectly good cup of coffee.”

  She let out a relieved giggle. “Maybe at the end of the semester, I’ll repay you by taking you to my favorite coffee shop.”

  He started to walk away and then spun around on his heel. “It’s a date.” Clearly delighted with his cleverness, he turned and headed for home.

  “Hey, I didn’t say anything about a date.”

  “Goodnight, Miss Freeman,” he called over his shoulder, “Until we meet again.”

  When he began to whistle, she bit her lip to try to stop her smile from spreading. He was quite the character. She watched him until he was swallowed up by the darkness. Bailey Honeycutt, so much more than she’d expected and she’d stepped straight into his trap.

  Her phone buzzed inside her bag. When she dug it out to find Theo’s name glaring at her from the screen, she glanced back in the direction Bailey had gone and her smile faltered.

  Chapter 7

  As Bailey stared around the laundromat he couldn’t mask his surprise. There were students sprawled around every surface, but instead of the quiet, tired looking people who he usually saw taking part in the chore, people were laughing. The place seemed more like a coffee shop or pub except with washing machines and dryers tossed in.

  John nudged Bailey in the back. “Get on with it, mate.”

  Bailey shuffled over to one of the few vacant washers and proceeded to dump his first pile of clothes into the aging machine. He hadn’t done laundry in weeks which meant he was one day away from having to wear his boxer briefs inside out. He could wash clothes easily enough at his place, but there was no dryer and hanging clothes out on the line to dry was not only outside his norm, it had rained too much in the past week t
o be able to do it.

  With two machines working, Bailey dropped into a chair next to John who took the opportunity to pull a six-pack out of his duffle. “I hate to say it, but I’m a little surprised a guy like you knows how to do his own washing.”

  “Hey,” Bailey said with mock hurt, “I do my own laundry.” He grinned and then added, “Some of the time.”

  John sipped his beer and then handed one to Cohen when he joined them. “All right, mate?”

  “All right.” Cohen slid down in the chair until his spine was in a C shape and his knees were halfway across the narrow isle.

  John was the polar opposite of Cohen and kind of reminded Bailey of a bear. Between the fluffy beard, barrel chest, and stocky build, John looked as though he could give you a bone crushing hug or tackle you head on with equal skill.

  “Hey, man, did you ever play ball?” With his massive frame, schools back in the states would’ve clamored for a chance to get him on their team.

  He shrugged, “I played a bit of rugby.”

  “No . . . football, then?” Bailey made sure to use the proper English term for what he knew as soccer.

  “Nah, I’m not light enough on my feet.”

  Bailey nodded and returned to his beer. A girl across the line of washers from where they were sitting caught his eye and tried to give him a sultry smile. She was cute enough, but she was obvious. She was missing the mystery and he wasn’t sure she would challenge him, not the way Brie did.

  And, there it was. His thoughts were back to Brie.

  It’d been a week since he’d walked her home and true to his word, he’d kept his distance. In class, he was the perfect student and never offered her more than a nod by way of greeting, but it wasn’t easy. He’d caught himself daydreaming more than once and had to rein his thoughts back in while watching her teach. But, it was hard not to imagine what it would be like to slip her small hand in his and link her delicate fingers between his calloused ones. Not to mention when she wore jeans to class he had to spend the entire hour trying not to ogle her perfect butt.

  He’d wait until the end of the term, but as soon as grades were posted, all bets were off.

  “So, B,” John leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, “I saw you leave the pub with Brie last week.”

  Cohen stopped picking at his fingernails to listen.

  “She wasn’t feeling well, so I walked her home.”

  “That was good of you.”

  “Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m a nice guy.”

  John smirked at him. “And, that’s all there is to it, eh?”

  “Yeah, man, that’s it.” Bailey leaned forward to match John’s position. “Look, I’m not going to deny it, I’m down, but for now she’s off limits.”

  “I bet that’s a first for you.”

  Bailey laughed. “Yeah, in a way, I guess it is.”

  John was studying him and clearly weighing his next words.

  “What is it?” Bailey smiled in encouragement. “Whatever it is that’s eating at you, just say it. I can take it.”

  “Right, so I’m about to sound like a total prat, but here it is.” John set his bottle between his feet and wrung his hands. “A couple years back Brie dated a guy she met in the painting class she teaches. Anyway, he turned out to be a—”

  “Total arse,” Cohen added helpfully.

  “Yeah, exactly. This guy was a lot, you know? And, she deserves better.”

  Bailey nodded in understanding. John’s concern for Brie made him respect him even more. “And, someone like me comes along and you figure I’m just interested in the challenge? Is that about right?”

  “I mean no disrespect.”

  “None taken and you don’t need to worry. I won’t hurt her.”

  There must’ve been something in his face, a hint of seriousness or believability because John picked up his bottle again and held it out to toast Bailey’s. “You’re a good bloke, B.”

  “Back at ya.”

  “Of course,” John broke out into a grin, “there’s no way she’d go for a guy like you. I mean look at you. Did you pull those clothes off the floor?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Bailey sniffed at his shirt and then tried to smooth out the wrinkles with his hands, “I think I did.”

  “Pretty soon you’re going to look as rough around the edges as Cohen here.”

  Unfazed by his friend’s abuse, Cohen flipped John the bird as he left them to go move his clothes from the washer to the dryer.

  “Hey, did you say Brie used to teach a painting class?”

  John stood and stretched, “Not used to, mate. She still does. I’m not exactly sure what days, but it’s not far from where we live.”

  Bailey leaned back in his seat as an idea took shape in his mind. He may’ve agreed to take her out after the semester was over, but that didn’t mean he was going to give her the chance to change her mind.

  ~ ~ ~

  On Sunday night, Bailey’s phone rang and with it, his brother’s face filled the screen. He’d known Oliver would call. It was a special day and his brother never missed important dates.

  “Hey, ugly.”

  “Speak for yourself, ass hat.”

  “Happy three years in remission day!” Lexie and Oliver shouted into the phone in unison.

  Bailey laughed, “Thanks guys. How’s everything out there?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual. Mom is in Jamaica with her new man, Leo is spending every waking moment in the ocean, David is working on some music, and we’re . . .” Oliver turned his face to his right, his big grin filling the screen, “making up for lost time.”

  Lexie’s high pitched, “Oliver,” sounded through the phone.

  “Okay, I get it, I get it. Say no more.” Bailey shook his head as he gazed out the small window over his kitchen sink.

  “What about you, brother? How’s school?”

  He tapped his thumb against the counter and thought about his classes, how much he’d already learned, the people he’d met. “It’s good, actually.”

  “So, it’s everything you’d hoped?”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his face as he thought about Brie. “More.”

  “That’s great, Bailey. We miss you, but we’re glad you’re where you want to be.” Oliver said something inaudible to Lexie. “Hey, hold on, Lexie’s dying to talk to you.”

  There was a pause, muffled sounds and a blurry screen as the phone traded hands.

  “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, Lexie. I hope Oliver isn’t being too big of a pain in the ass.” He turned and rested his butt against the counter. With the view of Oxford behind him, and listening to Lexie’s voice, it was almost as though he was home.

  “He’s your brother so, it comes with the territory.”

  “I heard that,” Oliver nosed his face into the shot and planted a kiss on the side of his wife’s head.

  Lexie giggled and then returned her attention to Bailey, “Hey, listen, we wanted to run an idea by you.”

  “Uh-oh. Should I be worried?”

  “No, no, no. It’s good.” He listened as Lexie took a deep breath. “We were thinking that we could come visit you for Christmas. Your mom is going skiing and we thought it might be fun to do something different. You could show us around and we could see where you’ve been spending all your time. What do you think?”

  “Wow. Um. Sure, that sounds good. I was planning to come home, but we could totally do it here.”

  “Excellent. Everyone will be so excited.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Yeah, David and Leo are planning to tag along and I thought I could invite Simone to join us since she’s already going to be in the U.K.”

  He hadn’t seen
Lexie’s best friend Simone in months. “What’s she coming over here for?”

  “She’s working on a new show for BBC One. She said she has her fingers crossed it’s the next Sherlock. You guys should get together and hang out sometime. I know she’d love to see a familiar face.”

  “I’m not sure what kind of time I have with all the studying, but I’d love to see her.”

  Lexie let out an exaggerated sigh. “You two lead such exciting lives.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Bailey laughed. “I think it’s more that I have to study all the time to keep up with the rest of these dudes. They’re all borderline geniuses around here.”

  “I’m sure you’re right there with them.”

  They wrapped up their conversation and Bailey collapsed onto the couch. It seemed both of his worlds were going to collide, but in the best way. He missed those guys and talking to his brother only made the distance more pronounced. When was the last time he’d gone three months without seeing his brother? Or Leo or David?

  He’d joined Survival of the Fittest at nineteen and, if memory served, they’d never been apart this long. Customarily, it was the opposite and they were together more than they weren’t—especially on tour—and though they needed a break after, it didn’t last more than about a week.

  Laughter sounded through the wall and for a moment he was tempted to stop next door, but he didn’t want to explain to his neighbors that he was battling a twinge of homesickness. Or that today, the day he’d received the news of his remission three years before, he’d wept in his mother’s arms. No, the people who weren’t a part of his life then wouldn’t understand what that single word had meant to all of them, the relief, the freedom. The stress that had aged his mother slipping away as she’d held him and then launched herself at his doctor to hug him. And, his mother was not one to relish in elaborate displays of affection.

  He rose and tugged on a shirt and his boots. What he needed was air and an outlet to work out his restlessness. With his head ducked against the wind, he crossed campus and kept going until the lights from the vast building that made up the Ashmolean Museum came into view. He hadn’t intended to come here—it was closed anyway—but there he was. He slowed his steps and took in the scene.