Page 2 of Don't Be in Love

“Maybe we can find Sabrina a new guy here,” Mia commented, eyeing down men.

“Don’t waste your time,” I sighed. “She has no interest in finding someone new.”

“She doesn’t even know him.” She threw her arms up. “That’s like me being in love with the man that reads the weather on the TV back home.”

“Butyou arein love with the man who reads the weather.”

“But I don’t talk about him as if he put the sun in the sky! She’ll talk about him but then clam up when we ask for a photo or if they’ve ever spoken. We don’t even know his last name. He could be fake for all I know.”

“She has a crush. It’ll wear out.”Hopefully.

Concern for my new friend had become an annoying neighbor, reappearing every time she mentioned this guy. But I wasn’t going to push her away with my whole philosophy on love. Especially not when her entire being was as delicate as a hydrangea. I loved her for it. But I also wanted to wrap her in cellophane as I explained that thinking about men was the equivalent to watching paint dry. Useless and it’d always end up disappointing in the end.

My eye for picking paint wasn’t great.

Mia groaned. “Dorian.Honestly, how hot could this guy possibly be?”

She worried for Sabrina too, but sometimes that was bypassed by her impatience to listen to people that weren’tdoers. Brina wasn’t looking to do anything about her crush on Dorian. She was ahoper. Someone thathopedfor the rom-com moment where she dropped her books in the hallway, and he was there to swoop them up. Next thing you knew, they were married, straddled with kids, with a vacation home in Tuscany, and a wiener dog that only ate salmon-based food.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. I scanned the room for an empty table. As I came up empty, I searched faces, wondering if any of these people would be my classmates in two days.

The acceptance rate for Townsen was something like five percent. As someone from a college where students woke up at 7 a.m. to study for an 8 a.m. exam and still passed, I was nervous. None of these students would come from homes whose mother had to quit her medical career to stay home to parent while her husband took every construction job he was offered.

Academics and working would be my number one priority while I lived in London. This scholarship was the only way I could afford being here.

Mia said, “Let’s go sit—”

“Excuse me.” Her proposal was cut short by areallyhandsome guy. The kind of handsome that made you check the hinges on your jaw.

He stood several inches above me with a sly smile and a dimple on his left cheek. Thecolor of his eyes and hair matched the color of black coffee, sitting neatly above his ears. His skin was a few shades lighter than his hair; a tan that complimented his dark brown eyes.

Then he opened his mouth, and this unfairly beautiful British accent came out.

2

Don’t Converse with Men Who Look

Like Hugh Grant — Adelaide

The first rule I made with myself before coming to England was that I would stick to my morals and not get involved in anything romantic.Nada. It didn’t matter if 1999Notting HillHugh Grant approached me; I wouldn’t succumb.

Was that difficult when a beautiful six foot British man approached you and saidexcuse mein his British accent?Obviously. But it was easier when I remembered the second rule: love didn’t last. And what if he was looking for love? Of course, he’d never admit that. He’d probably start by asking if I wanted to dance, which would turn into a flirtatious conversation, which would lead to a date, and then a kiss.

I would just end up breaking his heart!

I was getting ahead of myself, yes. This Brit (bloke?) was probably just looking for a dance, not my hand in marriage. But avoiding these interactions altogether saved me time and complexities I didn’t have space for in my to-do list.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked. Mia made some type of Poltergeist-choking noise from behind me.

I smiled awkwardly. “Actually, I was just about to sit with my friend …” I waited for him to fill in his name.

“Rye,” he extended his hand.

I shook it. “Like the bread?”

“More like the town two hours south of here.” He almost let a laugh slip.

“Oh. That’s interesting. I’ll have to look that up later. But I’m actually about to sit down with my friend.” I began to turn but his hand slipped around my wrist.