September 8th, 1989

September 8th, 1989

Penta Hotel, Hounslow, Middlesex

It’s the early hours of the morning and I just woke up and feel the need to record what have been, without a doubt, some of the best hours of my life to date!

I’ve always been a sucker for the guys with the floppy (especially blond) hair. Even while he sleeps, David’s hair looks like he spent ages styling it so that it falls across his beautiful face in such a way that all I want to do is brush it away and kiss him.

But, as usual, I’m getting ahead of myself!

Last day of the course and we all passed, yippee! We’re now licensed to fly on that magnificent flying machine known as the Boeing 747. And I’m not just saying that because it’ll take me to LA (yeah, right!)

When Kimberly and I got back to the flat, the phone was ringing.

“You answer it,” she said, following me as I dashed to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Karen, it’s David. I made it!”

I covered the mouthpiece and whispered, “It’s him.” Kimberly gave me a thumbs- up and made no attempt to move away from the phone.

“How was your flight?” I asked.

“It was awesome, I slept for most of it.”

“Oh, good for you.”

“According to the map, I’m about six miles from where you are.”

Cradling the phone on my shoulder, I held up six fingers. “He’s only six miles from here,” I mouthed to Kimberly.

I read her lips as she exclaimed, “Shit!”

“Wow,” I continued. “I had no idea the flat was that close to the airport.”

“Yeah, it’s real close. Would you like me to come pick you up?” he asked.

“Actually, why don’t I come to you?”

“Much better idea,” Kimberly whispered, nodding her head.

“Sure,” he said. “You know your way around better than I do.”

“Not necessarily,” I said, which made him laugh. “Give me about an hour and I’ll meet you at your hotel.”

“Cool. I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

I hung up. “So?” asked Kimberly, excitedly.

“You just heard everything I said.”

“I know,” she laughed, “but tell me anyway.”

I felt really nervous driving to the hotel and couldn’t believe I was actually going to see David. In an attempt to calm down and gather myself, I waited in my car for a few minutes before

In the parking lot, I waited in my car for a few minutes in an attempt to calm down and gather myself together. My stomach was doing somersaults when I walked through the double doors of the hotel but when when I spotted David, I was immediately reminded why I made that bold move and left him “the note.”

“Hey you,” he said, kissing me on the lips.

“Hi,” I smiled. “Slightly different surroundings to our last meeting,” I said, glancing around.

“I see you’re wearing your Delhi shirt,” he said, with a wide smile. “Should we get a drink here first and figure out what we’re doing?”

“You decide what you’d like to do. You are, after all, the guest here.”

“I’d like to go to London,” he said.

“I’d like to go to London too,” I replied.

We shot off in David’s hire car and forty minutes later, after much talking, he managed to find a parking spot close to Covent Garden. It was his first time in that part of London and being a Friday night, every place we went was packed and the atmosphere felt electrifying. David remarked more than once on how much he loved it.

After dinner, we walked around for ages and talked nonstop.

“I’d like Trafalgar Square more if they’d clean it up a bit,” I said, stepping, for the second time, in pigeon droppings.

“Let’s go sit up there,” David said, pointing to one of the massive, bronze lions, surrounding Nelson’s Column.

“How do you propose we get up there?”

“You’ll see,” he grinned.

David clasped his hands together and holding onto his shoulder, balancing on one foot, I stepped, with my other foot, into his hands. In one fell swoop, he propelled me up towards the lion’s mane. Once I got situated, I held my hand out to help him up. We wedged our bodies’ closely together, underneath the lion’s mouth and next thing I knew, we were kissing.

When I opened my eyes a few minutes later, the lights of London looked much more twinkly than they ever have and we sat, holding hands, watching the tourists below us.

“Do you remember where you parked?”

“I do. Why?” he asked.

“Let’s get a taxi back to the car. It’ll be quicker than walking.”

“Sounds like a plan,” David said, sliding down the base of the sculpture.

I can say that not only am I officially “back on the bike,” but that we also went to London.

More than once.

 

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