British Guys Aren't Cute

British Guys Aren't Cute - Chapter Twenty

'An Englishman, even if he is alone, forms an orderly queue of one,'
George Mikes

Chapter Twenty

Post 273

So, when somebody asked was asked what they how the stereotype British guys, they answered:

'As an American, when I think of a typical British chap, I think of Simon Cowell from American Idol. Witty, cocky, arrogant, to the point,'

British guys are none of those things. Simon Cowell is a very bad stereotype for British guys — think more of a cross between the presenters of Top Gear (the British version, not the shitty American version) and the inbetweeners. 

Nora ran into her apartment, tears running down her face. Internally, she was freaking out. He had said it — the L word — not properly, but it was enough for Nora to spiral down into emotional territorial. Skye was out somewhere — probably out moping about Tyler being in Australia for three months filming his news film so Nora was left alone in the empty apartment. Nora ran over to her curtains, pulling them shut before crawling into her bed, pulling the covers up over her head, and crying herself to sleep, trying to just forget about the whole thing.

Milo was going insane. He tried to keep himself busy, trying to keep his mind off Nora as he tried to give her some space to calm down. Milo just wanted to drive over to her house and break down the door — just so he could give her a hug, and tell her that he was sorry. They had woken everyone up with their fight, the queen included. All the staff of the house stayed out of Milo's way, knowing that he was a wreak without Nora. 

"Honey?" a voice questioned as Milo stood in the kitchen, stirring his coffee. Milo turned round to see his hung-over mother standing in the doorway. "She feels the same way, I promise," She added, practically reading her son's mind.

He had said it, in so many words, he had told her how he felt. And she ran away — crying. She didn't feel the same way — that was pretty evident to Milo.

"Okay then! That's why she ran away crying!" Milo replied dryly, taking a slip of his coffee, ignoring the urge to make his coffee Irish. 

"Trust me, she's just not admitted it to herself yet," the queen replied, stepping into the kitchen, before pouring herself a cup of coffee and joining her son. Milo let out a huff, trying to get rid of all the questions circling around in her head.

"Do you think I can go after her now?" He questioned, feeling the urge to run after Nora again. The queen simply nodded, knowing that the longer he waited to go over, the more his heart was breaking. It had been five hours since the fight — in Milo terms, it was far too long. Milo practically jumped off his chair and ran out the door, before climbing to the car that had beens sitting there for five hours waiting to drive him to Nora's. Little did he realise that he was already too late. 

Nora was lying on her bed, wide awake, while trying to process all the thoughts in her head. She had slept for four hours, but now no matter how much she tried to get back to sleep, she couldn't. Nora was ignoring all thoughts related to Milo's confession, and focused more on the argument from before, trying to figure out why Milo was pushing her away. 

Why wouldn't he understand that Nora didn't care that she couldn't do things in public anymore? Sure, it annoyed her, but she was sure that she would find ways around it. Was that the only reason he was pushing her away? Was there another reason that he wasn't telling her?