British Guys Aren't Cute

British Guys Aren't Cute - Chapter Two

'The place was so British, I wouldn't have been surprised if the mice wore monocles,'

Bob Hope, 'I owe Russia $1200' 

Chapter Two

Post 257

 I once read a post which was a list of seven reasons to date a British boys. The reasons were having somebody call you love; they dress better than American boys; they're cuter than American boys; and the repeated use of 'his accent' to make up the seven things. All of these things are not reasons to date a British guy; they are reasons to run away!

"Nor, you know you wouldn't have to write this bloody blog if you weren't so damn picky?" Skye questioned from where she was lying on Nora's bed, watching her type like some kind of crazy stalker. 

"At least I have standards! Unlike some people!" Nora smirked, turning away from her laptop screen.

"That's mean! I'm hurt!" Skye said, clutching her chest. 

"It's true!" Nora added.

"SO? I'm calling fairy gay mother on you!" Skye replied, pulling her phone from her pocket and dialing Sean's number. "You're just upset cause you know if he was straight — he would pick me!" She added, before sticking her tongue out at Nora. 

"Please! He prefers brunettes and you know it, Blondie!" Nora replied, but Skye didn't reply, Sean had picked up and Skye was shouting down the phone.

"SEAN! Brunettes or blondes?" Skye yelled down the phone. "It doesn't matter why! Just answer the damn question!"

Nora turned back around, and began to read over her post, looking for mistakes when suddenly, her eye caught the tiny digital clock in the corner of the screen. 

"Fuck- I'm late!" She shouted, jumping up from her desk and running over to the nearest pair of shoes she could grab.

"Ha! He said he liked blondes! Told ya!" Skye shouted at Nora. "Where you going?" Nora picked up a discarded coat, which was lying on the floor.

"School, I'm late again!" She quickly replied before grabbing her bag.

"Oh right, see ya!" Skye replied. Nora didn't reply and instead ran out of her flat, and on to the street. 

Nora knew there was a reason why she shouldn't wear this jacket, she just couldn't figure out what it was. Skye had borrowed it, and well that alone should have meant that Nora wouldn't touch it with a 35ft pole; but she had been in a rush and had picked up the first jacket that came to hand.  

The cold spring air blew, forcing Nora's chocolate brown hair to dance around wildly in the wind, and making her wish that she had grabbed a scarf before she left. She zipped up her jacket and shoved her hands into the pockets before walking quickly up the street. 

She was studying English, and due to the fact that her professor was an old bat — she could not afford to miss one lesson. Once your late; you can't come in. And that meant that Nora couldn't afford to miss one lesson. 

Nora began to jog up the street, the fear of being late quickly taking over her. Her jog soon turned into a full sprint as the university came into view. She ran round a corner and right into a guy, before falling onto her ass.

"SHIT!" The guy swore, as Nora tumbled — for the second time in 24 hours — on to her ass. Hot coffee flew everywhere burning both Nora's and the guy's skin.

"Oh my god, sorry!" Nora cried as she looked up at the guy, desperately crying to scramble to her feet. The guy was wearing a pair of black ray-bans, blacking out his eyes. His hair was a light shade of brown and his face was full of anger.