Read Across the Music (Across the Ocean Book 2) Online
Authors: Heather Sosbee
The rest of my shift went smoothly, and I’ve been asked to be a part-time waitress for the rest of my visit, however long that will be. I feel much better knowing that I'll have something semi-constant while I'm here, and I won't feel like I'm vacationing, rather that I'm
living
here.
I’ve grabbed my jacket in the back room, and am sliding it onto my shoulders when one of the waitresses who worked on the same floor with me tonight walks in. Noticing me, her face lights up as though she has remembered something. She starts to speak to me in Icelandic, but I don’t understand. I raise my hand to stop her from continuing.
“I’m sorry, but I only speak English.”
“Ah, no problem. There was a man asking about you this evening. Dark hair, blue eyes. Good looking. He asked for your name. It’s Sophie, right?” I nod at her, my mind spinning for who would be asking about me until Gunnar’s face pops in and grins at me.
I blink rather stupidly at the other woman, who shrugs and grabs her own jacket. No way. Gunnar was asking about me? Asking about my name? That tells me that he doesn't remember what happened. I guess I should be grateful.
“I hope it’s ok that I told him your name,” I glance at her again, noticing the worry that has crept into her expression from my lack of response.
“Oh, it’s no problem. Thank you for telling me.” I nod and smile reassuringly, while she grabs her jacket from the hook next to where mine had been hanging a few moments earlier.
“See you sometime,” she says to me as I turn to leave. I wave goodbye on the way out of the door.
Walking down the main street called Laugavegur downtown; I hear my phone buzz in my pocket. That’s rather convenient timing. Pulling it out, I check the message on my screen.
There’s a party going on tonight at 21:00, and a girl I know named Brooke asked for you specifically to come. How do you know her? Don’t know what you are doing tonight, but it could be fun. Call me when you get this and I’ll help you get there. – Hilary
Sounds like fun. I remember Brooke from when I was in Tálknafjörður a few weeks ago. We met on the same night I embarrassed myself in front of Gunnar. Luckily, she wasn't there when it happened. She was really nice though, and I enjoyed our conversations. I know that I could definitely use more friends in Iceland, so I think going to this party would be great for me.
Hitting the button to call Hilary, I put the phone up to my ear as I stop walking down the street. There aren't too many people downtown yet, even though I know people will soon fill up the streets as the evening gets later. It’s a little after nine in the evening and the street seems to have more than enough night life already. I hear the ringing in my ear while I wait for her to pick up her phone.
My mind wanders back to how amazing Gunnar looked earlier tonight. I am still completely dumbstruck that he was asking about me. It's also possible it wasn't even him at all, and just a miscommunication. I know he was at the restaurant with another woman. It doesn't matter anyways, I suppose.
“Hey, mate.” I hear Hilary’s voice come over the line, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to the here and now. Her lack of an Icelandic accent helps to soothe me; sometimes I get extremely anxious when I'm surrounded by a language I don't understand.
“So where’s this party at?” I wonder if Gunnar will be there. He’s friends with Brooke, from what I remember.
“What, not even a hello between old friends, Sophie? How was your first night of work?” I roll my eyes at her even though she can't see me, but I smile.
“It was fine, thanks. I think I’ll fit in without any trouble. Everything was pretty straight forward. Now tell me about the party. My interest has been piqued.” Hilary laughs at my impatient tone.
“Okay, okay. Hold your horses. You’re on Laugavegur, right?” Hearing me grunt in agreement, she continues. Laugavegur is the main street downtown. A large amount of the bars and clubs are on this street or are within a small distance from it.
“It’s probably best if you take a taxi, it’s not far away but I know you will get lost.” I roll my eyes again, but she’s not wrong. “I will send you an SMS with the address to show the driver. How do you know Brooke?”
“I met her a few weeks ago. She was really nice to me in Tálknafjörður. Did she ask for me specifically?” I’m rather curious as to why Brooke would want a person she’s only met once to come to a party, but I'm not sad for the invite.
“Yeah she did. Maybe you’ll make some new friends.”
“I hope so. Send me the info, and I’ll talk with you later.” She reminds me of a mum sometimes. I rather like it. It’s nice to know there is someone out there who gives any thought or care about me, and watches out for me. I love Hilary.
“Love you babe.”
“Love you too babe,” I hang up.
Since I know it will only take her a few moments to send me the address, I start heading down the left side of the street to where the line of taxis wait for someone to hop into their cars. I can see a few food trucks behind them, and my stomach growls in protest from lack of food. I'm thinking that I should grab a bite before I head over to wherever I need to go.
The night is still young, and I’m not really in any rush. I don’t want to be the eager beaver who shows up to the party first, so once I make it to the bottom of the hill, I quickly dash across the intersection when no cars are coming. I slow my pace and walk into the large square called Lækjatorg. To my right is the line of taxies.
Walking to the red van with a large window for ordering, I smile up at the friendly woman to give her my order. I’ve been to this car before, and I love their burgers. They have what is called a Béarnaise Burger; béarnaise sauce being an egg yolk, buttery concoction of heaven that accents a burger to perfection. Accompanied by a side of chips with Icelandic krydd (spices) all over them, I think my taste buds touch heaven when I eat this meal.
I relay the order to her in English, and I think she might remember me from the last time I was here, by the warm smile she gives me. Maybe it’s my accent. I pay for my burger and step back from the window to wait for her to prepare my order.
I am brought out of my lazy and irrelevant thoughts by the woman handing a bag in my direction. I rush forward to grab it from her, hoping she hadn't been holding it out for long without me noticing. I open the bag and take in a huge sniff through my nose to savor the enticing aroma inside. I think my eyes are rolling back in my head with the bliss of it all.
I’m absolutely obsessed with hamburgers. I have difficulties eating them in front of people because I tend to be overdramatic while I eat. I can’t help it, I just love them. I know it’s probably not a great idea to put on a food porn display here in the open square where the food vans have parked, so I head over to the line of taxis with my bag clutched in one hand and my phone in the other.
Walking up to the closest taxi to me, I slide into the back seat.
With a quick “Hello,” to the driver, I turn to my phone to get the address that I know Hilary has sent by now. It’s not one that I recognize, but I flash the screen between the front seats towards the friendly-looking driver. He looks to be in his late thirties, has a welcoming smile, and thick, black rimmed glasses.
“I need to go to this address right here, is that alright?” I have a habit of deliberately starting conversations in slow English so that everyone knows that I don’t speak Icelandic.
“Ekkert mál. No problem.” I sit back into my seat and plug in the seatbelt, relieved that there were no communication troubles. It's a fear I have here, to not be able to communicate with someone.
My mind wanders to the party I’m heading to as the driver pulls out of the spot he was waiting in and heads onto the main road. Moments later, we’re passing with the pond on the right, the ducks and geese swimming peacefully in the almost completely still water.
Rays of sun glance off the shiny surface, the red, orange and yellows seem greedy to touch everything. The sky is becoming pink and purple with the lower the sun sets, turning the clouds into a watercolor painting before my eyes. It always leaves me breathless. We pass a bridge over the pond on the right, and it has color-changing lights that turn on in the evenings. They turn from blue to pink and then purple and I think I see green but it's hard to tell as we completely pass it and I can no longer see it.
While my eyes enjoy the view, my mind goes back to the party. Will Gunnar be there, or will I have a chance to flirt with other attractive men? I really and sincerely hope so. I could sure use a good roll in the sack. My poor lady parts are practically starving for attention that isn’t self-given.
The last relationship I was in was destroyed by my father. My then boyfriend couldn’t understand the drama that was my life. His name was Aaron, and he couldn’t handle how I dropped everything so often to help my father out of a bad situation, even though Dad never thanked me for any it, or acknowledged all that I did for him. Aaron called me an enabler, and told me I was only allowing my dad to continue to behave the way he was. I think he was partially right.
I can’t say that I blame him when he finally did break up with me, but it was still rejection, and rejection always hurts. At the time, I didn’t think I could walk away from my father, that it was my responsibility since I am the only one left who could do it. Family watches out for each other, at least they are supposed to. I’d give anything to have a family watch over me.
Swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat, I realize we’re slowing down next to an apartment building with four floors. I hand my debit card over blindly to the taxi driver while I'm glancing at my phone for more details on which building and apartment number I’m supposed to show up in. I see that I need to go to the third floor.
The driver hands me back my card and I open my door and step out, closing the door behind me. I walk up onto the sidewalk while the taxi drives away. I check my phone for the time; it's 21:40 which should be fine if everything that Hilary said was correct. I should be fashionably late.
Tucking my phone and card into the back pocket of my pants, I look over the building in front of me. It seems simple enough, a grayish/mauve color. The shiny red wooden door of the building in front of me beckons me to enter, so I do. I'm surprised to find it unlocked.
Closing the door behind me firmly to latch the lock, I look to the right where a large row of mailboxes with everyone’s names and which apartment they live in is on the wall. I look carefully over the boxes, searching for Brooke’s name. I don’t see it, but I’m not surprised. She’s only been here in the country for a short time, and probably hasn't had a chance to add her name to the box. Truthfully, I don't even know if she lives here.
I head up the stairs towards the third floor, feeling butterflies start to flutter around in my stomach. I am usually an outgoing person, but I take a little bit of time to warm up. Being in Iceland seems to make me doubt myself, and I think the fact that I’m no longer surrounded by what is familiar to me, gives me social anxiety. Sometimes my brain and body aren’t completely in sync.
Finally reaching the third floor after what feels like a never-ending spiral (even though it wasn't very far at all), I walk up to the door on the right, as per the instructions in the SMS. There is a plaque on the lower part of the door with the names of the people who live here, and my heart speeds up when it sees a
Gunnar Jónsson
amongst the three other names. It could possibly be a different Gunnar, since it is a fairly common name, but I have a hunch.
I stand and stare at the door for a few moments, contemplating my next move. I reach up to my hair gathered at the base of my neck and pull the pins and elastic out to let the waves tumble down my back. Tucking the pins into my pocket, I shake my hair out for added volume, and reach out to knock on the door.
I hear a knock on the front door, and walk quickly out of the kitchen into the hallway to open it. I'm surprised someone is here already, as the party isn't supposed to start for another twenty minutes. The second the door swings open and I see who it is, my whole body freezes.
It’s her, it’s Sophie.
I can't believe this.
How perfect is it that she's here at my house, now
? I’m absolutely stunned. There is no way I would have ever guessed that she would be the one at my door. I had been thinking of her since I saw her earlier, and here she is. My heart feels like it’s free falling from a cliff with no parachute. I have no words for a long moment, and she looks to be in as much shock as I am. I’m not sure if she expecting to see me either.
We stand staring at each other, my eyes eagerly and happily taking in that her hair is down now, flowing in shiny waves over her shoulders and down her back, just like I imagined earlier this evening. My fingers twitch in response. I love long hair. I love
her
hair. I want to run my fingers through it.