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“Delaney,” Warren says through clenched teeth. “Hold on.” Despite his comment, he’s already got his hand out, hovering just above my waist in the event I fall. A part of me now wants to, just to have him catch me.
“Look, Warren!” I theatrically move around, having way too much fun bringing the grumpy side of him out—and maybe having him scold me. “I don’t need handrails! I’m perfectly balanced on my…woah!” I’m displaced as the cart rocks, prompting me to fall back.
“Delaney!” Warren rushes forward, a sense of panic in his eyes. Just my luck, the hand that was reached out to grab me was held in the opposite direction than where I fell.
“Are you alright?” He releases his own grasp from the handrail as he takes a step over to me. Thankfully, if it wasn’t going to be his arms that I fell into, it was an empty seat instead.
“I’m okay.” The faintest bit of laughter washes over me. “I’m alright.”
His sense of worry is quickly replaced with a bothered expression as he shakes his head. “I told you to hold on.”
“Oh, relax. I was just trying to have some fun.”
“You could’ve hit your head, or worse?—”
The cart abruptly comes to a stop at the next station, and now it’s Warren who’s the victim of not holding on. He loses his balance and falls forward, right next to me—far less gracefully.
I can’t help but burst into laughter, a fit that only prompts judging stares from the passengers boarding the cart.
“Oh, my God!” I can hardly get the words out, tears brimming my eyes. “Are you…are you okay?”
Much to my surprise, rather than being met with the cold frown I received last time Warren made some sort of decline, the look in his eyes is brighter than I’ve ever seen before. He’s smiling. He’s laughing. He’s himself.
“Okay,” he responds through his laughter, holding up his hands. “I’m okay.”
We both re-adjust ourselves, standing back up. “You know…” I lean in close as we both hang onto the same handrail. “You should really hold on.”
He stares down at me, and I could swear for a moment that he leans in the faintest bit, too. I’m almost close enough to rest my chin on his shoulder.
A pure sense of awe on his face reminds me of that childhood photo up the staircase of his mom’s house. I knew it was true. Warren is a child at heart—one I’m going to spend all day trying to unleash.
“You’re a total goof, you know that?” Despite a snarky smile on his lips, he shakes his head in displeasure.
“Now arriving at Camden Road.” A voice falls over the P.A system before I can respond, the doors opening to our right.
“C’mon.” He releases his grasp from the railing, gesturing his hand out for me to step ahead. “We’ve got a city to see.”
“You’ve got to try a 99!”Warren hands me a vanilla ice cream cone with a chocolate bar sticking out of the top. “And once you’re done, we’ll head over to this pub up the road. My mates and I always used to sneak out of the house to go without our mums finding out.”
Warren has spent the last few hours taking me on a personal “Park Tour” of his side of London—his words, not mine. I’ve never eaten more English treats, heard him talk more, and frankly, showcase a side of himself I’d always suspected—but didn’t realize had the ability to be quite so relaxed.
“I’m absolutely buzzin’. I haven’t been around here in ages!” His eyes are as bright as the sun beating down on us. Despite a few clouds rolling in, it’s the most beautiful day—and not just weather-wise.
We’re in the heart of Camden Market, which is already one of the coolest shopping experiences I’ve ever had. I’ll admit: London has proven to me that it’s an unforgettable city filled with even more unforgettable people.
Here, I don’t feel as much of a fish out of water as I do back in Crawley. The market is diverse, filled with so many interesting people and items you’d never find in a department store. I hate to give Warren the satisfaction that he was right when he told me that Oxford Street has nothing on Camden. But it’s true—everything he’s said about this city. It’s magical, just like it is, being here with him right now.
“Oh, look!” I hand Warren my ice cream cone as I dart ahead, my gaze having landed on a shop with fancy bow slippers on display. Since I’d first noticed Helen’s worn-out slippers, I’dbeen itching to buy her a brand new pair. These were perfect—a pretty pink color that perfectly matched her sweet energy.
I watch as Warren follows me in the reflection of the glass. “Those?” His voice is ridden with distaste as he eyes the pair I’m pointing out. “If I know anything about you, you probably already have a million pairs of those.”
I roll my eyes at his response, staring up at him with the faintest bit of a smile.
“Well, I like them. Plus, a girl canneverhave too many pink slippers.”
He nods, pretending to consider my response, although I’m convinced he’s calling me ridiculous in his mind. He leans in to inspect the slippers for a moment before speaking. “They look like the same material as your pajamas this morning.”
I whip my head in his direction, taken aback by his remark. The fact that he studied what I was wearing long enough to recognize the same print makes my stomach tighten up.
