Chapter Twenty

September 2005

Would it ever stop fucking raining? Mandy had gone to London to soak in the culture, but for approximately seventy-two hours, all she had gotten was soaked. Like the clouds were crying for her since she couldn't cry herself anymore. This trip had been her dream, and then it became their dream—Isa and Mandy's—but she was alone in her room, missing Isa and feeling sorry for herself.

Maybe she should go home.

She could apologize.

She could grovel, even.

But Isa wouldn't be there. She probably would never talk to Mandy ever again. Mom and Dad were home though. And so were her own bed and pillows—ones she didn't feel as bad sobbing into.

At least she had a private room in the house she was staying in. This way she could wallow in her own misery without anyone else there to watch her. It was a quaint house too—just off the beaten path but close enough to cafés and shops. A woman by the name of Beatrice owned the place, and from their correspondence, Mandy had expected an older woman with gray hair who likely enjoyed an evening of knitting and crossword puzzles. Mandy was extraordinarily wrong. Beatrice, as it turned out, was a vibrant woman with fiery ginger hair in her early fifties who loved leather, her motorbike (as she liked to call it), and her two cats, and had visible tattoos along her arms and legs, and a number of not-so-visible ones she had told Mandy about with a smirk. Mandy didn't mind the cats and wished they would visit her room, but that would mean opening the door once in a while, and, well, that wasn't happening.

This would be—more or less—Mandy's home for the next couple of months while she explored and studied at an artists' program in the city. She was lucky to enroll in a couple of classes. Not a full load or anything, but it was enough to bide her time as she tried to figure out what she really wanted. At least that had been the plan. Now Mandy was too sad to do anything. She lay in her four-poster bed staring at the ornate antique furniture and old books lining the shelves of the little bedsit (that's what Beatrice called it) with her suitcase still packed next to the door. At least the bed was comfortable enough.

But Mandy couldn't help thinking back to just weeks ago when Isa had stayed the night and the two of them were still in bed—because it was summer, and that's what summers were for, sleeping in.

Mom had gently knocked and peeked her head in. "I'm going to run out for a bit," she said as Mandy lifted herself onto her elbows—Isa didn't stir. "I'll grab some bagels on my way home. Blueberry, okay?" Blueberry was Isa's favorite.

"With strawberry cream cheese," Mandy said.

Mom nodded like that was a given. "Don't spend the whole day in bed, you lazybones." She closed the door.

Mandy lay back down and stared at her ceiling. She was too awake, too aware of the girl sleeping next to her in nothing but a tank top and sleep shorts. They had stayed up most of the night talking and kissing—and at some point, Mandy must have fallen asleep.

A few moments later, there were the telltale signs of Mom's car pulling out of the driveway.

Isa spun around. "I thought she would never leave."

"Have you been awake this whole time?"

"As soon as she knocked on the door, yeah." Isa did that one-eyebrow-raise thing, and the message was received loud and clear.

Mandy moved closer—so close their thighs touched. "Morning breath be damned; I'm going to kiss you now."

"You better." Isa closed the space between them, locking her lips against Mandy's. Somehow Isa's still tasted sweet from the Sour Patch Kids and M&M's they'd eaten the night before.

Mandy pulled Isa closer as Isa's hand drifted up Mandy's shirt, her warm palms sending tingles throughout Mandy's body. Her heart slammed inside her chest. Isa's soft tongue caressed Mandy's bottom lip, and in that moment, she wanted—no, needed—to be as close to Isa as possible. Mandy yanked her shirt over her head, and Isa did the same. Skin to skin, the smell of Isa's Love Spell lotion, Mandy pressed Isa closer into her. Their legs entwined. Feeling. Rubbing.

Isa pulled away as if needing to catch her breath. "I love you for real."

"I love you for real back." Mandy spoke into Isa's neck, trailing kisses along the way.

"I'm ready," Isa said.

They had talked about this before, when their make-out sessions got intense, but they hadn't gone all the way.

Isa slid off her shorts.

"Are you sure?" Mandy asked. She never wanted to make Isa do anything she didn't want to.

Isa took Mandy's hand. "I'm sure." She led it down—below the covers—between her legs.

Isa sucked in a breath, and Mandy's heart cracked all the way open. Yes, she loved this beautiful, smart, incredible girl. She was in love with her, and she'd never felt as close to Isa, to anyone, as she did right there. Isa knew Mandy in ways no one else did. Knew her secrets, her accomplishments, her fears. Mandy had never been vulnerable with anyone the way she was in this moment with Isa. This was more than just sex. This was unfiltered, unconditional love.

Mandy had never really put any stock into the idea of losing her virginity. There were so many firsts she had in her life. The first time she rode a two-wheeler without training wheels. The first time she jumped from the high-dive platform at the pool. The first time she drove a car without anyone riding with her. But in that moment, Mandy realized all these firsts did in fact make her feel different. They each came with a special kind of freedom she had never had before. Mandy didn't lose anything at all, but her world had in fact changed forever.

But now, as she lay there in that four-poster bed a continent and ocean away, Mandy was on the precipice of another first. A first of being in a world without Isa. The worst part wasn't when it happened or the screaming and crying that took place in that moment, but every moment after. From then on out, there would be no more talking, no more sharing secrets, or holding hands, or soft kisses, or just being together. Mandy had no idea where Isa's life would go. She had given up that right…and even though her reasons were valid, that didn't mean it hadn't torn a hole in her soul to do it. Mandy being here without Isa meant that it was the end of the line. Didn't it? Their lives had been so intertwined, and now—nothing. Would there ever be a time Mandy wouldn't want to reach for the phone to try to tell Isa about something that happened to her? Was that a future Mandy wanted to know?

Wanting it or not, it was the life she had now.

Mandy swallowed against the giant lump in the back of her throat. Even though she hadn't left the room for days, she was exhausted. If only she could close her eyes and sleep forever, or go back in time—but that wasn't possible. Whether Mandy liked it, or was ready for it, time ticked on, the world kept spinning, and the future was here staring her in the face. There was no going back, but for Mandy it seemed impossible to go forward.

A knock sounded, and before Mandy could respond, the door swung open. In walked a girl with curly brown and purple hair, dewy brown skin, thick black eyeliner, and black fishnet tights. Even in the mood Mandy was in, she couldn't help but like this girl immediately.

"Bloody hell, you do look like shit," the girl said, with a long i making it sound more like shite , but Mandy got the idea. Plus, she probably did look like shite or shit or whatever, since she hadn't moved since she had gotten there—she even had on the same clothes she wore on the almost eleven-hour flight. "I'm Sophie," the girl announced as she grabbed Mandy's suitcase, threw it on the bed, and rifled through it. "Beatrice gave me the rundown, and I'm here to take you out. So put these on so we can go." The clothes Sophie had thrown to Mandy were hers, but she had never worn these particular garments together. And although she heard the words that had come from Sophie's mouth, Mandy's brain couldn't process them. "What the fuck are you waiting for? Come on." Yep. Mandy really liked this girl. If only she could have the same I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude.

Instead of responding, Mandy rolled out of bed, changed into the new outfit, and layered on the deodorant and body spray Sophie had also tossed at her. She had to admit it actually all worked well together. Mixing patterns wasn't something Mandy did, but it seemed Sophie had a knack for it.

"Better but…" Sophie stepped out of the room and a moment later came back in, throwing something else at Mandy. "Wear this."

The hat was simple and cute, and Mandy felt better having her long, greasy hair tucked underneath it. "Where are we going?" Mandy asked as she threw her cross-body purse over her shoulder.

"Does it fucking matter?"

"Nope." It actually didn't matter at all.

Mandy had never been to a pub before. She'd never been to any kind of bar besides the ones inside restaurants where she would have to wait sometimes with her parents for a table when they went out to eat. Although she was aware the legal drinking age in London was eighteen, it really wasn't on her must-do list for the trip. But after a quiet walk with Sophie—that somehow wasn't awkward at all—there she sat, pint glass clutched between her hands.

A fire was lit in the fireplace across the room, and the dark wood and heavy oak furniture along with the Elizabethan memorabilia made the room feel cozy and warm. Mandy slouched on her stool and read for the dozenth time the words painted on the wall about how the place was built in the 1500s. There really was so much more history here in this small little space than in any museum back home.

"So you're a painter." Sophie broke the silence and took a long chug of her beer. "Beatrice told me."

Yes, Beatrice and Mandy had many conversations before her trip. What else had Beatrice told Sophie? "I draw too, but painting is more my passion."

"And that's what brings you here?"

Mandy nodded. Sophie was trying, so Mandy should probably try too. "I'm taking a couple workshops. What about you?"

"I'm a fashion designer. One day I'm going to have my own line, but until then, I'm working at your bog-standard shop." Sophie rolled her eyes, and Mandy scrunched her brow. Sophie laughed. "That means, like, common. You'll get the hang of it."

Fashion. That made sense. Especially seeing how effortless it had been for Sophie to create the look Mandy was currently wearing. And then there was Sophie's outfit, which, the more Mandy studied it, it seemed likely that Sophie herself had made it. Mandy wasn't up on London fashion, but it wasn't anything she had ever seen before, and it fit her so perfectly. The fabric seemed to curve with the shape of Sophie's body. "Well, I know I just met you, and I don't know much about fashion, but I think you're going to be great at it."

"Thanks. Even if that is coming from someone I just met who doesn't know tosh." She fingered the cuff of Mandy's sweater. "This is nice though."

The indigo polka dots were her favorite—a present from Isa's mom a few years ago, and one of the few items in Mandy's wardrobe that wasn't black. Maybe she should get rid of it. "I like what you have on," was what Mandy replied instead of thinking about Isa or bursting into tears.

"Do you? Well, we're going to get along right nice. It's my own design." Sophie seemed to hold her head even higher than it was before, and then she took another drink. "How you liking that?"

Mandy glanced down at her untouched beverage. "I'm not sure I really like beer."

"That's because American beer is rubbish. Go on."

Mandy tentatively raised the glass to her lips and sipped the amber liquid. It was bitter but then tasted a little citrusy.

"So?"

Mandy shrugged. "It's okay."

Sophie laughed again. "Well, get used to it, 'cause that's what we drink here."

Mandy raised her glass. "Cheers then, I guess."

Sophie shook her head. "Oh, you have so much to learn." But then she clicked her glass against Mandy's.

Conversation after that flowed smoothly. Maybe it was the beer or Sophie's whole relaxed attitude, but hanging out with her was easy. Like somehow they always fit together. The downside to this was that the only other person who was like that for Mandy was Isa. So while she enjoyed hanging out with Sophie, it also deepened the ache in her chest. It was hard to even try to have fun when Mandy felt so terrible. And to make it worse, all she wanted to do was tell Isa about this amazing person she met, and how she had a real beer in a real pub, and…she couldn't.