'My chances of being PM are about as good as the chances of finding Elvis on Mars, or my being reincarnated as an olive,'
Boris Johnson on becoming Prime Minister
Chapter Nine
Post 263:
Okay, men are men, no matter where you go. They all have different accents, they all have different styles and such like. Just because a guy is British does not mean they are amazing, attractive or perfect (excluding Daniel Radcliffe, Matt Smith, David Tenant and Charlie McDonald). So stop stereotyping British boys are perfect cause they're not!
Nora shut her bedroom door, a million things running through her head.
What should she wear?
How should she do her hair?
What shoes go with which top?
Nora spend five minutes running round her room like a mad chicken, pulling her hair out with stress, before snapping and just picking a pair of random clean jeans, before pulling out her baby blue Beatles top from her wardrobe and pairing it with a pair of black converse. Milo wasn't dressed super casual, so there was no point in her stressing about where she what she was going to wear. She quickly dragged a brush through her wavy hair before putting it back in a messy bun.
She put her phone in her pocket, before walking back into the living room, watching a smile grow on Milo's face as she walked through. "You ready?" He questioned.
"Sure! Where are we going?" Nora asked cheerfully.
"About that..." Milo replied, letting out a breath he had been holding in. "What I was planning to do isn't until three, so I thought that we could just walk around London and just see stuff!" Milo replied, rubbing that back of his neck, worrying about what Nora might be thinking.
What if she thought it was a stupid idea? What if she didn't want to do that?
A smile grew on Nora's face as he said this and she realised how nervous he was. "Sounds great! Just let me grab a hoodie and we can go!" Milo's smile grew on his face, realising that there was no reason to be nervous.
And then he realised what he would have to tell Nora later than day.
"This way, Milo!" Nora smiled brightly, pulling him up the steps of the National Art Gallery. Trafalgar Square was packed with tourists, trying to soak up the summer sun, but Nora just pushed past them, trying to get to her favourite painting in the museum. She pulled him through the long red corridors filled with paintings. Milo tried to look at them but at the rate at Nora was pulling him along, he could barely get a glance. Nora suddenly stopped in front of a painting, and Milo looked up.
Swirls of brown, oranges and yellows lit up the canvas in the shape of fat ugly sunflowers, painted by a man who would only ever see one of his painting sold, only for them to be worth millions, years after his suicide.
The painting was the Sunflower painting by Vincent Van Gogh. Milo looked down at Nora, who was smiling lightly at the painting, her eyes following the swirls of colour around the painting. He smirked at her reaction to the painting. How something as simple as a painting could lift her into her own world of day dreams. Milo looked around the wall, eight paintings by Van Gogh, each as amazing as the last, hung on the large red walls, only a rope barrier keeping the tourists away.
YOU ARE READING
British Guys Aren't Cute
Romance'Fact: British guys are not cute. Never have been; never will be!' Meet Nora. During the day, she's a crazed, Irish student trying to survive the insanity which is London. At night, she's a blogger, trying to prove to the world that British guys ar...
