Find Me Alastar

I nod. “Yes please.”

He disappears into the kitchen.

I walk over to the window and pull the sheer curtains back and look out onto the street below. There’s

old houses and apartment blocks and terraces down the street. I smile proudly to myself because I did it. I

did this. I’m in London and this is really happening.

Mark reappears with my tea. “Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?”

Hmm. I am as tired as hell. I frown. “Do you mind if we take a rain check? I’m exhausted and would

really just like to sleep.” I sip my tea as I watch his face.

“Of course.” He fakes a smile. “I will pick you up about nine in the morning and we can explore

London?” he offers hopefully.

I smile in relief. “Sounds great, and thank you for being so great today.”

He stands and his eyes search mine. Oh no. He’s coming in for a kiss. He leans in and I quickly peck

him on the lips. “S-see you tomorrow,” I stammer.

He pulls back and I see disappointment cross his face. “Goodbye then.” Flustered, he leaves in a rush.

“Goodbye.” I smile, but as I watch him disappear down the stairs, my heart drops and I feel bad.

This is not what I had imagined and I have absolutely zero physical attraction to Mark.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

Shit.

“K nock, knock.”

I pry open my groggy eyes, slowly waking to the sound of a strange voice. I sit up in a rush. Shit,

where am I? My eyes dart around frantically as I struggle to gather my bearings. The door opens slightly.

“Hello?” A girl smiles through the crack. “Are you okay?”

Oh, it’s my new flatmate. “Hi. Please, come in.”

She slinks around the door and smiles. “I’m Vanessa.”

Vanessa is young, much younger than me, and she’s skinny with black grungy hair with a thick fringe.

She’s dressed in a black dress with thick black tights and knee high punk leather boots. “I’m Emerson.

Sorry, I must have fallen asleep last night. I did plan on waiting up to meet you.” I smile nervously.

She smiles back and flops onto the end of my bed. “That’s cool. Hank.” She calls.

I frown. Who is Hank? A nerdy looking guy pokes his head around the door. “Hello.” He smiles, he

has a very strong English accent.

“Hi.”

“Hank lives with us.” Vanessa smiles. “He’s studying biochemistry and doesn’t really do anything else

so you have to boss him around.”

I grin as my eyes flicker back to Hank. He smirks mischievously and holds his hand up in defeat.

“Guilty.”

He walks in and flops down on my bed, next to Vanessa. He’s wearing an old ripped t-shirt and only

his boxer shorts.

“Thanks for having me, guys.” I say nervously. “I really appreciate it.”

“That’s alright.” Vanessa stands. “Do you want some breakfast?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Hanks making eggs, aren’t you Hank?”

He looks at me and rolls his eyes. “Hank is another word in the English dictionary for slave,” he says

dryly.

“Oh.” I chuckle. “It’s okay. I haven’t gotten any groceries yet. I will get breakfast out.” I frown.

“No, it’s cool. We share food and just go shopping once a week, splitting the cost,” Vanessa calls as

she walks to the lounge room. “We shop on Tuesdays.”

Hank turns to me. “What do you think of London?” he asks.

I shrug. “It’s great… so far.”

He stands and heads back out to the lounge room. “Breakfast in ten,” he calls.

I flop back down to my pillows as relief fills me.

Thank God.

They’re normal.