Page 7 of Until the Last Star Fades

“Ben, I’m already late. My friend’s probably waiting outside my apartment right now, cursing me for catching hypothermia…”

“This is 28th Street.” The automatic announcement crackled through the train’s speakers as it slowed to a creaky stop.

“Your friend can come, too. We can talk about California, you can tell me about New York, making TV programs…ice hockey…”

“I appreciate the offer, but I really have stuff to do, sorry.”

“So, you’re gonna leave me to fend for myself?”

Riley rolled her case closer to her boots. “You’ll be fine. Americans love British accents. Go into any bar and you’ll have lots of female company. You don’t want me cramping your style.”

“I do! You’re my only friend in New York.”

“We’ve only just met!” She laughed. “You’ll make new ones.”

Ben’s stomach sank. They sat quietly for a few minutes.

“This is 23rd Street.” The doors opened, allowing the train and platform to exchange passengers.

He shifted his backpack on top of his case so an old woman could sit down. “You know, it’s okay. I’ll find my way in the big city. I’m sure I’ll pick up friends before long.”

Riley bit her cheek and checked her texts.

She looks like she just kicked a puppy. Ben’s gaze darted out the window at the mosaic tiles on the station wall. “What’s with all those floating hats?”

Riley looked up. “Apparently, they’re hats worn by famous people who passed through this area: Oscar Wilde, Eleanor Roosevelt—the actor, Ben Fagan…” She grinned, returning to her phone as the train began to move.

Ben smiled as he adjusted his Boston Bruins cap. “Maybe one day, eh?”

“Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“Piper wants me to pick up”—her finger slid up the screen—“Cookie Butter…and Cheddar Rocket Crackers from Trader Joe’s. With what? Magic beans?”

“Where’s that, then?”

“14th Street.”

Ben’s eyes shot to the subway map near the doors. “Oh—next stop?”

“Yeah, sorry Ben.”

So, I guess that drink really is out of the question…along with any hope for a snog ever, I reckon. Bollocks. The twinkle left his eyes.

With a tight half-smile, she quickly looped her scarf around her neck and zipped up her parka. “Make sure you get off at Canal Street. It’s three stops after 14th Street, got it?”

“Yeah…” Pulling out his phone, he deflated in his seat.

Riley packed away her phone and tugged on yellow mittens with TAXI stitched down the hands. Eyes darting to Ben, she pressed her lips together. “Ben, you’ll be fi…” A heavy exhale left her lips. “Look, I know New York can be overwhelming, so I’ll give you my number—for emergencies only, ’kay?”

Result! “Really? That’s brilliant! Cheers, Riley!”

She rattled it off and Ben typed it into his phone, a smile lighting up his face. “When I’m back on street level, I’ll text you so you’ll have mine.”

“Sure.” She nodded, standing up to corral her suitcase. “On Canal, I think you need to head toward Mercer Street. If you pass McDonald’s, you’re going the wrong way. You want to head toward Dunkin’ Donuts.”

“So, burgers—bad. Donuts—good. Got it.”