There’s something about waiting for my luggage at baggage claim that gives me the deepest of anxiety. It’s like waiting for my food to finish being warmed up in a microwave and watching it go around in a circle as my stomach grumbles beneath me. Switch out a TV dinner with the most important clothes, shoes and accessories I chose to pack for my trip and you could quickly see how I could find myself starting to freak out (at least internally). Absentmindedly, I tugged at the sleeves of my mustard-colored sweater as I waited for my luggage to pop up while person after person walked away with theirs gleefully.
The wait time had another nasty side effect. It gave my mind just enough space to wander back to the days right before my flight, when my excitement for this new opportunity had almost been squelched by the breakup that wasn’t with my boyfriend, David. What I’d thought was going to be a dramatic affair, with him making a last-ditch effort to ask me to stay, instead had ended with the two of us agreeing to a pause until my return with not one tear shed about my departure. For most, this might have symbolized a sense of maturity in their relationship. But for me and David, it really just magnified the lack of passion we’d had all along—something even my annoying but lovable younger brother had noted to me on several occasions.
Olivia, if it’s what you want, who am I to stop you? David had asked me rather ironically, sitting in my flat just days before my flight. What I suppose he hadn’t realized was that if anyone could have been the person to stop me, it would have, in fact, been him—which was something I hated to admit even now. Or maybe he had known, and that simply wasn’t what he wanted.
Part of me had thought, or rather hoped, that he was going to at least throw me the kind of going-away bash I would have for him—complete with decadent foods and tokens from our moments together, perhaps some bubbly and a surprise final shag to remember me by. But, perhaps unsurprisingly to my friends who hadn’t ever been really big fans of his, David had done nothing of the sort. He’d just shrugged off the moment as if the last two years had meant nothing to him. And when he’d left my flat for the last time, he hadn’t even kissed me goodbye.
So much for including love and a happy, healthy relationship in my plans for my thirties, I thought. I won’t make that mistake again.
Really, when I thought about it, David had taught me a good lesson. When we’d started dating, my family had been so happy that finally, in my thirties, I’d brought home a man who’d seemed respectable and ready to settle down. And for a while, I’d been happy, too! Never mind that, together, we’d had the passion of a toad on a log; I’d had an attractive and successful man who liked me, and for most of my family members that was all that mattered. There was just one problem: when I was truly honest with myself, whenever I stopped to think about what I really craved from my partner, I had to admit that there had always been something off about us despite how much we’d tried to make it work.
I mean, I was a woman who liked over-the-top everything, and David had really never appreciated that. He’d loved me—I thought he still did—but in his heart of hearts, I also believed he’d always thought it just doesn’t take all that whenever he’d look at me and how I operated in my life. But that place where it seemed like an extra step might be too much? Well, that was where I thrived! It was why simple girls’ nights in with my friends included sparkly decorations, balloons and champagne. And why I’d made my company millions of dollars in less than a year. Because when someone else thought they’d done enough, I was just getting started. Maybe in relationships that could be too much for some people to deal with—there was a reason I was staring down thirty-six and single again, yeah—but it had always served me well in my career...so the lesson I’d learned from him was clear: my career was bloody well where my focus needed to be.
On the bright side, my brother and Robin had made up for everything David hadn’t done. The two lovebirds, who quite literally owed me for putting them together after serendipitously meeting at my flat, had pulled out all the stops and showed up to my flat the next day with three bottles of bubbly (one for each of us) and plans for a farewell tour throughout London. For a full day, we’d traipsed our way through the city, drunkenly giggling at all my old haunts and finishing off in Brixton with a surprise dinner hosted by my family. Craig, who was an accomplished photographer, had even taken a ton of photos while we’d been out—one of which I’d posted on Instagram with a Goodbye, London caption right before boarding my flight.
Now that’s how you send someone off like a boss, David. Tuh!
Right as I could feel myself getting upset again, I saw out of the corner of my eye the first of my matching gray-and-teal luggage pop out of the carousel shooter and make its way toward me.
“Yes,” I whispered under my breath, and ran toward my bag, catching it by the side handle and dragging it toward the rest of my things.
What a relief. I double-checked the tag to be sure my name was on it and then lifted it onto the cart that held all my luggage together so that I could easily wheel them out when I was ready.
Now there was just one more to go.
I fixed my eyes back toward the carousel in anticipation of seeing my next one come around the corner.
“Now, what’s in this bag? The UK army?”
As soon as I heard that unmistakably deep voice to the left of me, another smile I couldn’t control instantly grew on my face. If I was going to keep running into him, I would need to work on that for sure.
“We really must stop meeting like this,” I said, turning toward him. “One might begin to think it’s on purpose or something.”
“To be fair, it’s not a huge leap that we would see each other again at baggage claim,” he said, correcting me slightly with that same smirk he’d had when he’d called me out about not asking for help.
I guess he’d had a point both times.
“But also,” he continued as he snaked his fingers through his luggage handle for safekeeping, “I was kind of hoping I’d run into you again.”
“Oh?”
His words caused my heart to skip just a beat faster than normal, but I steadied myself in time to not let him in on that little secret.
“Yeah, well, I realized after we parted ways that I never got your name. And I...”
Before he could finish his thought, I saw my last piece of luggage come bouncing around the bend from the corner of my eye. Without hesitation, I dived toward it in a feeble attempt to catch it before it went back around, and then I’d be stuck waiting for it again for God knew how long. Unfortunately, because of my impromptu dive, I caught ahold of my luggage in a weird position and once again found myself struggling to wrestle it down—that was until I felt my kind, handsome stranger’s hands on the left side, helping to pull it off with me.
Together, we yanked it down from the carousel and then stood the twenty-three-kilogram bag up onto its wheels, the dynamic duo having once again conquered what felt like my ongoing luggage wars.
“Apologies,” I whispered, catching his eyes. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but...”
“Please. There’s no need to explain. It’s important you get your suitcase. I get it.”
“Thank you,” I said with a chuckle, knowing full well that would make him smile.
I wheeled my last bag over to my cart to add it to my ever-growing pile before turning to him again.
“You were saying?” I asked once I’d connected my bag with the others.
“Oh right, I was just going to finally ask you your name.”
“Oh, of course,” I replied, raising my hand to meet his again. “It’s Olivia. Well, Liv is what most people call me.”
“Okay, well, hi, Liv. I’m Thomas.”
The way he grabbed my hand, keeping his eyes fixed on mine, if I’d been a betting woman, I might have actually thought the man was trying to seduce me this time around. But I knew better; in London, I’d hardly ever had anyone approach me out of the blue. So, while I’d dated my fair share—mostly men who I’d met at get-togethers—I’d long realized that I wasn’t the meet-cute kind of girl. And yet second after second passed by with our fingers intertwined before Thomas and I let go, only prompted by the sleeve on my mid-thigh-length sweater falling down to my wrist and breaking my attention from his gaze. Finally, I did us both a favor and loosened my grip, similar to our last handshake, eliciting the ripple effect of him parting from me again.
“Hi, Thomas,” I said, stepping back from him just a tad. “I feel like I already said this, but it’s lovely meeting you.”
“Technically, the last time you didn’t seem all too sure.”
“That’s true. But now you’ve helped me twice with my luggage. I can’t deny it anymore.”
He chuckled to himself, turning his head slightly away from mine in what seemed like an attempt to regain his composure.
“Duly noted,” he replied, shifting his intensity as he returned his eyes to mine.
“You know,” I said, looking back at him, desperately holding on to the last remaining bit of willpower I had to not “accidentally” fall into his arms so he’d have to put his hands on me again, “I could actually use your help with one more thing.”
Thomas raised his thick eyebrows at me as he waited for me to continue.
“You mentioned you’ve lived here for a fairly long time, yeah?”
“Yes.”
I could see his smile growing again, betraying whatever cool pretense he was trying to give off.
“Well, I’d love any recommendations on anything I should do or see while I pretend to be a New Yorker for the next year.”
“Recommendations, huh? Hmm.”
He stepped back and looked at me quizzically, very obviously trying to read me. Unfortunately for him, I couldn’t afford to let him see how much he’d captured my attention in just our three short interactions, so I wasn’t exactly making it easy. And to his credit, he didn’t try to push me to give more than I was comfortable divulging, either. He just simply...observed.
“Where are you staying?” he finally asked.
“My company put me up in a flat... I’m sorry, apartment—I have to get used to saying that—in the East Village.”
“Okay, okay. Nice area, but can I be honest with you?”
“Please do.”
“Actually, first let me ask you something else. Where did you last live in London? Was it Brixton?”
I laughed, having a thought of where his line of questioning was going.
“Uh, no. I was born and raised there, but my last flat was in the City. It was easier to live in London’s financial centre when I started working for investment firms.”
“Sure, that makes sense.”
Thomas paused and looked at me again before proceeding forward, almost as if he was still trying to determine how honest he would now be with me.
“So, I’ll say this... The East Village has a lot of character, so I don’t think you’ll ever be bored there,” he began. “But it’s not exactly known for being a bastion of Black cultural experiences, if you get my drift.”
“I sort of expected that, yes. Hence my question to you.”
Once again enjoying my rare position of being the one to slightly tease him, I finally let my wink fly and laid it on thick so he knew it was my version of “get back” toward him. My clumsy attempt at teasing, however, only seemed to embolden Thomas instead of embarrass, as it had done for me. For all at once, his eyes lit up, and I could almost see a streak of joy run across his face, even as we both began walking toward the doors to leave the airport.
“Well, then my recommendation for you, Liv, if you want to find something in New York that’s a little different...you gotta check out this Everyday People day party happening in Brooklyn next Saturday. The music’s going to be lit, they’ll have all kinds of food vendors—everything from Jamaican to Dominican to soul food from Mississippi—the people are going to be cool as hell, just trying to dance and have a Black-ass good time before the weather turns too cold here, and...”
Thomas paused and let his lips curl up slightly in that now signature smirk of his.
“I’ll be there, too, of course.”
What woman could resist all of that, normal or not, right? Especially the way his eyes twinkled as the last part of his argument floated out of his mouth.
Okay, I thought, maybe I’m not being ridiculous and he is actually flirting with me.
“Is this your way of telling me you want to see me again, babes?” I asked, hoping for some clarity and, even more than that, a simple yes.
He licked his lips before responding, which only served to draw my attention to how kissable they seemed.
“I’m a little more straightforward than that, Liv. If I wanted to ask you on a date, and I’m assuming that’s what your question really meant, I would.”
He never took his eyes away from mine even as he shattered the little dream I’d begun to let sprout up. Served me right. I knew better than to think this guy, of all guys, was into me and not just being a genuinely nice person who just so happened to have a proper dangerous smirk.
“Don’t get me wrong—you’re very beautiful,” he continued. “But you just moved to a new country, so I’m not under any mistaken impression you’re looking for anything more than what you already told me...”
“To kick ass and take names,” we said in unison, eliciting another round of laughter from us both.
“Exactly,” he continued. “And I don’t want to get in the way of that. You really just seem like cool people, so I think you’d have a good time there. Plus, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to run into you again without having to help with your bags.”
“You’re right,” I replied, feeling some sense of relief that once again this stranger got me in a way no one else had seemed to do so before. But also a little sadness because in understanding me, he somehow intrinsically knew he wasn’t part of my plotted-out story. And yet he appeared content to be a fun witness on the sidelines, which I kind of really appreciated.
“And that’s not a bad proposition,” I continued. “I’ll be sure to tell my girl about the party, and maybe we’ll see you there.”
“Oh, so you have friends here already? The American ones you mentioned earlier?”
I couldn’t tell if he was shocked that I knew other people in the city or disappointed to not be the sole source of my New York recommendations, but there was a bit of a curious tone in his voice. I shrugged it off so I wouldn’t start overthinking it.
“One. And sort of,” I explained. “She’s a friend of my friend who moved to the UK earlier this year, but she’s already been very kind to me. She and her boyfriend are even picking me up from the airport today.”
“Ahh, well, that’s great, Liv. I’m glad to know you won’t be alone in the city.”
Thomas’s eyes dipped between my eyes and lips as he stared back at me. It seemed like there was so much more he wanted to say, but from our brief interactions, I understood something about him, too—he was used to thinking everything out so that he always presented as cool, calm and collected. That meant he certainly wasn’t going to allow himself to come across flustered in any way, at least not in some feeble attempt to, what, woo me? Doubtful. After all, he’d already said if he wanted to ask me on a date that he would, and he hadn’t. I guess he’d chosen Door Number Two as well.
“I hope I see you both there,” Thomas continued. “And I can guarantee you one thing—you won’t regret going.”
“Well, you certainly make a compelling argument. So, chances are good.”
“I’d rather the chances be great, but I’ll take it.”
I stood in front of him for just a few seconds more, cheesing like I had a high-school crush, until I eventually gathered myself again, took in one last breath and said my goodbye.
“Until we meet again, dear Liv,” he replied, holding my attention until I stepped back and made the left turn to walk away from him this time, maneuvering with all my bags on my cart.
Before I walked through the exit doors, I glanced behind me once more and saw him heading to the Uber/Lyft pickup area, carrying only a small duffel bag and rolling a piece of luggage that could have been a carry-on if he’d desired. We couldn’t have been more different, and yet there was something about him that felt oddly familiar...like home. I’d have to unpack that on another day.
For now, I had a friend to find in the pickup area. And maybe thanks to Thomas, I had one piece of clarity about my big adventure to the Big Apple—nothing about this trip was going to be boring or go as I expected. But I was ready for every minute of whatever it was going to be.