Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,1

years of our life. That usually means you're bored."

"I can't be bored," I cried. "I'm in London! I've got this adorable flat in Oxford, and the whole town is adorable, and the campus is amazing, even if they have really strict rules about not sitting on the grass, and how on earth could I be living a life where I can come spend the day in London because why wouldn't I and somehow still be bored and missing the normal life I left behind."

Claire laughed under her breath. My cheeks burned a little hot at my outburst, and I looked around to make sure no one heard me. I couldn't even handle the idea that some lovely Brit who might become my best friend for the next couple of months would hear me and think I was just another crazy American.

"Lia"—she sighed—"promise me something."

"What?"

"Don't be so consumed with what you're missing that you stop paying attention to what's in front of you. Okay? Go eat a scone. Or that beans and toast and bacon thing you told me about."

I smiled. "That's for breakfast."

"Fine, then go get a beer in a pub and enjoy your time. Flirt with a cute British boy. Then go back to your flat in Oxford and get a good night’s sleep. Don't you meet with Professor Atwood tomorrow?"

My fingers plucked at a blade of grass. "Yeah. I'm so freaking lucky she's letting me do this." I watched some clouds drift across the sky, a dark enough gray that I frowned. "You're right. I'll go get some food."

"Be careful on the train home, okay? Make sure to head back before it's dark."

I smiled. Claire was so Claire, she couldn't even help herself. "Okay, Mom."

"Love you."

"Love you back."

She hung up first, and for a few minutes, I laid on the grass and stared up at the slowly darkening sky. When the breeze held enough of a chill, I stood and pulled my wadded-up jacket out of my crossbody purse.

I wandered for a while. Taking pictures. Looking up at buildings. Reading placards. I hopped on and off the Tube, allowing for spur-of-the-moment decisions in what I might discover. It helped take that edge off, the one I desperately didn't want to feel again.

As I did, I tried to take Claire's advice to heart. Be in the moment and not think about what I was missing. I did pretty well until the first fat raindrop hit me on my forehead.

The rain came out of nowhere, and like a rookie, I'd left my little umbrella back at my flat.

Even though I pulled the hood of my jacket up, it didn't do much to protect me from the sudden downpour, so when I looked up and caught sight of a dark wooden sign for a pub off a side street, I smiled, thinking of what Claire said. I quickly jogged around a group of tourists on a sightseeing walk, hooked a right onto the quiet street, and ducked through the heavy wooden door.

It was quiet inside, decorated with dark wood, glass-covered sconces, and burgundy booths that had seen better days. It was still hours before the post-work rush would have a place like this packed to the brim with men wearing tailored suits in want of a pint.

God bless London, because really, British men knew how to wear suits. It did not take long to recognize how far superior they were to American men in that regard.

I slipped off my jacket and ran a hand through my hair. After a day of sightseeing, it was beyond tangled. The only other people in the pub were huddled in one of the corner booths, and for a split second, I wondered if the beer was poisonous or something, because honestly ... it was really, really empty, considering what time of day it was.

An old man wiping down the dingy wood bar nodded to me as I slid up to a stool. "What can I get for ya?"

I glanced behind him at what was on tap. "I'll have a Stella, please."

He nodded, deftly pulling a glass under the correct tap. "Be wanting anything to eat, dear?"

I smiled. Would the accents and the casual endearments ever get old? "Just the beer for now."

He set it in front of me. "Cheers."

After my first sip, I glanced around the pub again, wishing that even one other person would've been sitting at the bar with me.

Alone.

My first two weeks here had been a whirlwind, yes, but I'd still spent