California is identical to London, except the fact it is in America. So, I guess, that made moving a lot easier. I could barely stay away from my home in England for one night, let alone three years. My mum had had enough of me lounging around her house and she finally kicked me out. I had nowhere to go. For about a week I wondered the street and pondered what I would do next. Then, I saw an ad poster pinned to a tree in the park. It said "ASSISTANT NEEDED! Shane Dawson, of California, is looking for someone to help him. $27,000 a year - call the number below if you can help!" I still have no clue how that advert got from America to England and I do not know why, but I called the number. Turns out I was the first person to call and was instantly offered the job. So I flew to America. Then rented out a flat next door to Shane. It all happened so fast and I can barely remember any of it.
Now, I'm anxiously sitting in a small coffee shop in California, hands sweating and trembling uncontrollably, waiting to meet my new employer for the first time. I clenched onto my boiling cappuccino (with extra cream) and thought about what I would say to impress him. However, before I could fully divulge into my thoughts, the door to the shop opened and a tall-ish man with unkempt hair walked in. "You must be Hannah?" Shane Dawson stood in front of me wearing a green, stained t-shirt, grey, also stained, joggers and blue flip flops. He looked like a tramp. A GORGEOUS, BEAUTIFUL, tramp.
