by Megan McCoy
“You never said how your visit has been going,” said Anna to Heather when they were seated.
“Yeah, are you in love with the city and ready to move here?” asked Brittney.
“It definitely seems like a cool place to live,” said Heather.
“But?” said Michelle.
“No buts. I really do like it!” said Heather.
Brittney turned around in her seat to look closely at Heather. “Did something happen?” she asked.
Heather hesitated. “I sort of met someone.”
Anna, sitting next to Heather gasped and elbowed her. “What? Who? When?”
“It was my other Airbnb host,” said Heather with a reluctant grin.
“Oh my God, tell us everything,” said Michelle.
Heather tugged her hat lower, feeling self-conscious. “There’s not much to tell. I mean, I booked a room with him and,” she stopped. “I don’t know, we hit it off I guess. We spent Christmas together.”
“Did you sleep with him?” asked Anna, looking at Heather.
“Yes.” Heather rolled her eyes at her friends’ reactions. “But I think it’s over.”
“You think, or it’s over?” pressed Michelle.
“I don’t know!” said Heather miserably. “I basically stayed in his house with him instead of the rented space after the second day, but I left this morning and I don’t know if I’ll ever see him or talk to him again.”
“How did you leave things?” asked Brittney.
“We talked yesterday about our plans for the rest of the week, but I don’t know,” said Heather again, shaking her head. “It’s weird because I don’t know if I’m moving here or not, and I don’t know when I’ll find out. If I don’t end up moving here, then it’s not like a long distance thing will work, so I didn’t want to make things weird and try to stay in touch.”
“If you did find out you were moving here, would you want to see him again?” asked Michelle.
“Yes,” said Heather, smiling shyly. “I really liked him.”
“Is he Scottish?” asked Anna.
“Yeah, tell us about him,” said Brittney.
“He’s tall and fit and hot. He’s got wavy coppery hair and a beard and a great body. He’s from Aberdeen.” Heather fidgeted with her scarf. “I just worry that it could be months before I know anything about moving here or not, and by the time I do get the news and get settled over here, he could definitely have met someone else. But it’s not like I can ask him to wait for me to figure out if I’m making this huge life transition or not. And maybe he doesn’t want anything else. Maybe it was only supposed to be a fling.”
“Heather, he brought you flowers and a gift on Christmas morning,” said Anna, looking sideways at Heather. “He had just met you. I think it’s safe to say he’s definitely interested.”
“Yeah it sounds like he put a lot of effort into the few days he was with you,” said Brittney.
“Then why didn’t he reach out either?” said Heather. “He didn’t give me his email or add me on social media or anything.”
“For the same reasons you didn’t,” said Michelle with a shrug. “It’s a weird situation.”
Heather sighed. “It just sucks. I really like him.”
Anna put her arm around her and squeezed Heather, “Maybe you’ll find out sooner than you think about your visa. Either way, I’m sure you’ll be able to find him again if you do end up moving here.”
“If nothing else, you know where he lives,” said Brittney. “You could send him a letter once you moved here.”
“Or stalk his house,” suggested Michelle, half-standing to take a photo. “Nothing says, ‘Let’s make it work’ like spending every evening in someone’s front yard.”
After an early night in, courtesy of jetlag, Heather’s friends were ready for action the next day. They visited the Scottish National Gallery and did some shopping before heading back to the room. They stopped at a chippy on the way back to eat some fish and chips, and decided a night out sounded like fun. Back at their Airbnb, they changed clothes, touched up their makeup, and headed to a pub that had good review online and was within walking distance of their room.
Heather was feeling good about herself. Spending time with her friends exploring Edinburgh had been a lot of fun and she was starting to feel better about her parting with Liam. The new lipstick she had picked up was a darker color that made her feel sexy. Beneath her coat, she wore a sequined top, short skirt and leggings. Brittney had even helped her with her hair, which Heather didn’t usually spend much time on.
The friends ordered drinks at the bar and then selected a table, shedding their coats and looking around. Like nearly every other building in the city center, the pub they had chosen was gray and stone and felt old. The bar was made of dark gleaming wood with matching shelves behind it stocked with liquor. Stained glass windows looked out onto the streets, though the effect was largely lost in the dark, and the lighting inside the pub was warm. Textured tiles decorated the ceiling and the walls were cluttered with antiques, mostly with a Scottish theme. Lit tapered candles sat in the center of the tables, each in a different candleholder. The pub was mostly full already and more people were coming in. Despite the level of noise, Heather could hear snatches of song in the background.
“Excuse me.”
Looking up, the women saw a man standing near their table, a second man who seemed to be with him but stood several feet back, and another man watching intently from a nearby table.
“Yes?” said Anna.
“I’m sorry to bother you lovely ladies this evening, but I was wondering if you could clear something up,” said the man. “You see, my friends and I,” he looked back at the man standing behind him and the one at the nearby table, “were wondering if you were Americans.”
“We are,” said Brittney.
The man looked over his shoulder and shouted, “I told you!” Turning back to the group, he said, “My friend was convinced you were French.”
“Our accent didn’t give us away?” said Anna doubtfully, cocking an eyebrow, but looking amused. The man was not bad looking.
“We couldn’t hear you from over there,” he said, “but I told him American girls were prettier than French girls, so you must be from the States.”
The friends laughed, Heather rolling her eyes. “Where are you from, then?” asked Michelle.
“We are from Cornwall,” he said. “England,” he added, seeing their blank looks. “We’re in town for New Year’s.”
“What a coincidence,” said Anna, eying the man with increasing interest. “We’re also here for New Year’s.”
“How lucky,” he said. “I don’t believe I introduced myself. My name is Robert. These are my friends, Ian and William,” he indicated the man behind him and the one at the table respectively. The ladies introduced themselves and then Robert said, “Would you like to join us? We’ll buy the next round.”
The women looked at each other, exchanging small shrugs, head tilts, and smiles. “Sure,” said Anna. They stood, collected their coats, and followed Robert to their table where Ian and William seemed to have already accumulated extra chairs.
Heather ended up sitting beside Ian, a tall, thin man with brown hair and green eyes. He shook Heather’s hand when she introduced herself and asked what she was drinking. The men left for the bar to bring back more drinks.
“They’re pretty hot,” said Anna happily when the men were out of earshot.
“They don’t need to be hot,” said Michelle. “I could close my eyes and orgasm as long as they keep talking with those accents.”
Heather laughed. “I know what you mean.” For a flickering moment, she thought of Liam, but then Ian was back, setting her drink on the table.
“We ran into a friend of ours at the bar,” Robert announced, clapping a hand on the shoulder of a dark-haired, barrel-chested man. “This is Peter. He lives here in Edinburgh.” Peter waved and sat down, Heather noting that there was now a
man for each of them.
Ian touched Heather’s arm lightly to get her attention. “Is this your first time in Edinburgh?” he asked.
“Yeah, my first time in the U.K., actually. You?” She set her empty glass down and reached for the drink Ian had brought her.
“I’ve been to Edinburgh before,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “and the U.K., too, come to think of it.” Heather laughed, the alcohol in her system making her feel light and free.
The group spent several hours together, laughing and joking and drinking. When they stood up to leave, Heather felt pleasantly drunk. Out on the sidewalk, Peter pointed out another chippy. “Anyone fancy a snack?”
“We had fish and chips there earlier,” said Anna, giggling drunkenly. “Fish and chips! Like the Brits!”
“Yes, just like us,” laughed Robert, his arm around her waist.
They walked over and got some French fries (‘chips’ as the men called them) and fried Mars Bars, which Peter insisted were good. Battered and deep-fried, they reminded Heather of state fairs back home. When they had finished eating, they threw their things away and reconvened on the sidewalk outside the chippy.
“So, we’ll meet again tomorrow night?” said Robert.
“For the Torchlight Procession,” agreed Anna, hanging off of him. She kissed him sloppily on the cheek.
“Brilliant,” said Robert, grinning down at her and then kissing her full on the mouth.
Ian cupped Heather’s elbow. “I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow, Heather,” he said.
“Me too,” said Heather, even as Liam flashed through her mind again. Her heart sank as Ian gave her a wink and then turned to leave with his fellows.
Always held on the day before the Hogmanay Festival, the Torchlight Procession featured mainly a large group of people carrying lit torches along a route in Old Town followed by a firework show.
Anna, Brittney, Michelle, and Heather left their Airbnb two hours before the procession was due to start so they could collect their torches, meet up with the guys, and get in line. When they had their torches, the women headed to the meeting point to find the men. Robert waved when he saw them.
“They’re not quite as good looking when you’re sober, are they?” muttered Brittney to Heather, who giggled.
Anna, on the other hand, did not seem to find Robert any less attractive tonight than she had the night before, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.
Peter pulled out a flask from inside his coat. “Some scotch to keep us warm,” he said, unscrewing the lid. He took a small swig and then passed it around. On her turn, the drink hit Heather’s stomach with heat and she felt her face flush. Pulling a face and shuddering a little, she passed it to Ian, who grinned at her before downing some himself. Heather remembered drinking scotch with Liam on Christmas Day and wondered how he was and if he was enjoying his time in Aberdeen.
When the flask returned to Peter, he shook it gently, testing what was left. “It’s about halfway gone. I say let’s pass it around again and finish the thing.” So, he took another drink and passed it back around the circle. Though she had eaten a late lunch, Heather had not had dinner and her second turn at the scotch seemed to go straight to her head. Feeling giddy, she handed the flask to Ian, who put his fingers over hers as he accepted it. She looked away from him, her thoughts still with Liam.
Flask emptied, the group began walking toward the staging area for the torchlight procession so they could get in line. None of the torches were lit yet, but excited anticipation was in the air as they saw some of the other attendees. Heather was surprised to see so many people in costume. It seemed as though at least a third of the people at the procession were dressed up, most of them as Scottish, Celtic, or Viking warriors from various time periods with weapons in one hand and torches in the other. The rest of the attendees wore modern clothes, including men in dress kilts, complete with tall socks, jackets, waistcoats, bowties, and sporrans.
They took their places in the line and chatted while they waited. Ian kept engaging Heather in one-on-one conversations, wanting to get to know her better.
She answered him reluctantly and did not return his curious questioning. Eventually, it was time for the procession to start. Bagpipes, drums, and wind instruments began to play as the torches were lit. Heather experienced a childlike excitement as she watched the flickering light on everyone’s faces. Slowly at first, they began to move, walking through the city. Crowds of people without torches stood on both sides of the streets, waving and cheering the procession on. Heather felt an inexplicable pride to be part of the procession. She couldn’t stop smiling as they marched.
The night was clear, but cold and fairly windy. Melted wax was picked up by the wind and speckled the walkers’ clothes. In all, they walked for over an hour before the line slowed and then finally stopped. Though they couldn’t see the entire line of torchbearers, the group was high enough on a hill to appreciate the crowd. They would find out later that twenty thousand people marched with torches, winding through the city in a ribbon of light. The portion of the procession they could see from their vantage point made for a stunning visual effect, and Heather’s throat tightened with emotion at the beauty of it.
“It’s really something, isn’t it?” said Ian, leaning in so Heather could hear him over the sounds of the music and crowd.
She nodded, beaming. “I—” she started to say, but at that exact moment the fireworks started. Green and blue and pink lit their faces in the dark as the fireworks exploded above them.
Ian put a hand in the middle of Heather’s back. Thinking he had something else to say, she looked up at him, but instead of speaking, he kissed her.
Caught by surprise, Heather hesitated for a moment before kissing him back. It was nice, but when they broke apart all she could think of was Liam. She blinked, forcing a smile but not meeting Ian’s eye. He squeezed her close to him and she allowed him to hold her in the torch-lit cold. Looking over at her friends, Heather laughed to herself at the sight of Anna and Robert kissing with far more enthusiasm.
Everyone clapped when the fireworks ended. “Who wants a drink?” Peter prompted. His friends and Heather’s all nodded, but Heather felt suddenly as if she wanted to be alone. Moving with the crowd, they headed back toward Old Town and toward a pub Peter had in mind. A couple of blocks from their destination, however, Anna and Robert broke off from the group, saying they would meet up with everyone later. Making her decision right then, Heather, too, announced that she was leaving the group.
“Sorry,” she said, “I’m just not feeling well. I’m going to go lay down.” Ian looked disappointed but told her he hoped she would feel better before Hogmanay started. “Thank you, me too,” she said, and she gave him a quick hug before departing.
The Airbnb seemed exceptionally quiet after the movement, lights, and sounds of the Torchlight Procession. Moving without hurry, Heather took off her boots and coat, and then her makeup. She changed into her pajamas and crawled in bed, laying still in the dark. Heather rolled over, trying not to think of her friends, out laughing with men they had just met, or Ian, who had kissed her, or Liam, who she would never see again. It was stupid to be hung up on a fling, pointless to pine over a man she had known for only a couple of days, especially when a new man was already so interested. Yet here she was. Heather sighed in the darkness, wishing sleep would come.
“Are you okay?” Brittney asked Heather the next day. “You left really early and were asleep by the time we all got back.” It was midday on December thirty-first and Heather’s friends were just beginning to stir, having stayed out late the night before.
“Yeah,” Heather sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sick?” asked Brittney.
“No. I just,” Heather broke off and groaned. “Ian kissed me during the fireworks last night.”
“Is that bad? I thought you liked him.”
“I like him all right, but as soon as he
kissed me, all I could think about was Liam. I feel like an idiot because I only knew Liam for such a short time, but I feel like I’m going through a breakup.” She cradled her coffee cup in her hands for warmth in the chilly flat. It seemed that residences in the U.K. did not provide central heating like she was used to in the United States.
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” said Brittney. “I think you developed feelings for a man who made grand romantic gestures when you were alone on a holiday in a foreign country. I mean, how could you not?”
Heather bit her lip. “He seemed to really like me,” she said, hating the note of pleading in her voice.
“From the way you described it, that’s what I would think too,” said Brittney. “The sort of things he did would certainly make you guys feel closer, more connected, pretty fast.”
Heather nodded and closed her eyes for longer than a blink. “I just don’t know what to do about it now,” she said with a sigh. “Ignore it, I guess. As of now, I still live in the States and I have no idea when or if that will ever change.”
Just then, Anna walked in through the front door. “Oh,” she said, smiling at her friends. “Good morning.”
“Are you just now getting home?” Heather laughed.
“Why yes, yes I am,” said Anna, smoothing her hair with one hand. “And I am headed straight for the showers, after the night I’ve had.”
“Ew,” teased Brittney. “Did you at least leave Robert in one piece, or will he need the week to recover?”
“I suspect we will see him again tonight,” said Anna loftily, and she strode away to the shower.