8: Arseholes

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Ciao ciao, beauties! :D How are you all? Sorry about the wait for this chapter, but I have been crazily busy. I'm so sorry for replying to so few comments lately, too, but I promise I will get to them all at some point. Gorgeous picture of Mila Kunis/Nova at the side. I know Mila is so overused, but she is literally the Nova in my mind. I hope you like it! :D xoxo

8: Arseholes

'Oh bloody hell, you make the queen look poorer than a pauper, Drew,' I said as soon as he unlocked his front door that led into the most lavish apartment/housing I'd ever laid eyes on.

Drew laughed and took my hand, tugging me inside gently but still with enough force for me to almost stumble into his arms.

'You hungry?' he asked, to which I shook my head, although my action was contradicted by my arsehole stomach which chose to grumble so loudly at that moment it was practically thunderous.

'Mhmm,' Drew made a noise before he did a beckoning gesture with his hand. 'Here, let me take your coat.'

I unbuttoned the coat - trying to eradicate all thoughts of this being some sort of striptease - and shrugged it off despite my fever making me feel cold in spite of my hundred and one layers of clothing. The last thing I wanted was to be a pink and feverish sweaty mess.

'Thanks.'

'Go lie down,' Drew instructed. 'I'm going to look after you, Supernova.' He looked so sure of himself as he rolled up his sleeves that a laugh escaped my mouth and I scrunched up my nose at his moment of cuteness.

He led me to his chocolate coloured leather sofas and virtually shoved me down on one when I insisted that I would help him make something to eat.

'Your lack of culinary skills are pretty much common knowledge, you know,' Drew argued with a smirk.

That bitch Mia, I thought darkly. She had probably told everyone and their mother about this time I'd made some kind of whacked out chocolate onion cake and about this other time I'd set my mushroom and marshmallow omelette (don't even ask, it was my time of the month and I was probably being possessed by some kind of psycho food demon) on fire.

It wasn't a joke when somebody dissed my cooking, but I had to make an exception with Drew, his sweetness pulling the wool over my eyes.

'Fine then, suit yourself,' I jokingly huffed, lying back and stretching out as my eyelids became heavy and sleepiness began to take over. There was something about being in the company of somebody when I was a little bit ill that made all of my fatigue pour out of me until I let myself close my eyes, which is what I did then.

The soothing sound of Drew shuffling around his kitchen area was almost a lullaby as I drifted off to sleep.

Something was ringing. It took me a moment to realise that it was my phone, the scent of unfamiliar sheets beneath my nose making the process of opening my eyes and answering it a little bit longer.

Seriously, what was it with people and deciding to call me at the earliest possible hour? Why -

Oh, I thought, catching a glimpse of a grey clock on the wall and seeing that it was only just gone six, a glance out of the window letting me know that it was the evening instead of the heinous early hours of the morning.

The ringing sound was muffled by the fact my phone was in my bag, sat beside the pine wardrobe that stood in the corner of the room, a couple of metres away from the window. I wasn't sure who had done the furnishing of Drew's apartment, but they had bloody good taste.

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