*Hello, readers :) this is a short story that I have been thinking about turning into a novel. It started out as an innocent short story assignment for my college Creative Writing class and depending on the feedback, I might follow through with the thought. Anywho, let me know what you guys think, it would be much appreciated!*
The Guardian
It all started when I met Riley St. Claire in the winter of 1992 when I began my studies at Oxford University for anesthesiology. Not being a native in England, I was entirely out of my comfort zone. Growing up in the Bronx, my life was a far cry from the life I was out to obtain at Oxford. When I attended high school, I was offered the opportunity to attend the prestigious university, and my parents and extended family was absolutely thrilled. In my mind, their satisfaction was more important than the apprehension that I could feel rising within me like a forest fire. When the plane touched ground on the snow infested runway, I realized I was on my own comprehensively. No parents, no friends, no one around for thousands of miles to calm my anxieties. Stepping onto the vast campus at Oxford, It began to sink in just how misplaced I was, and I knew deep inside that I couldn’t just blend in. Maybe I was way in over my head after all.
As I looked around at my immense surroundings, my courage began to plummet. I decided to try and find my dorm so I could get out of the crowd and clear my mind. As the sweat began to fall past my brows, even in the twenty degree climate, I found it incredibly difficult to find the correct dorm building. In my head, I was constantly beating myself up for making the decision to leave my family. I knew that a creeping loneliness was not very far from me.
As I lugged my suitcase and other various belongings behind me, I trekked past three different housing buildings, none of which were the one I was looking for. Frustrated, I found a nearby bench and sat down, exhausted from all the stress and nervous energy surging through my veins. I sighed, glaring at my pale face, exhausted blue eyes, and nappy brunette hair in the reflection that my cellphone’s screen provided. The near twelve hour journey took much more out of me physically and aesthetically than I had hoped. I groaned loudly in defeat.
“Dammit, Angelle, look what you’ve gotten yourself into this time,” I whispered to myself, knowing I had bitten off much more than I could chew.
“Excuse me, miss? Are you alright?” I heard a very beautifully raspy English accent coming from my right side. Even though many people were walking past where I was sitting on the bench, no one I came in contact with even gave me a second glance. I knew I couldn’t get my hopes up. As I looked up from my hands, I met an emerald set of eyes that automatically seemed incredibly comforting to me because of the isolation I felt inside. The eyes that were looking back at me were the first to really notice me since I bid my parents a tearful goodbye at LaGuardia International Airport only half a day earlier.
“Uh..ye-ah,” I stuttered over my words, butchering my only chance at a first impression, completely.
“You seem upset, ma’am,” he said kindly as he sat down on the bench.
For some reason, I wasn’t upset anymore. The man that sat next to me was a gorgeous work of art, more lovely than anyone I had ever seen before in my twenty years on the planet. Something about him seemed almost inhuman. I took him in, in all his glory. He had extremely long and dark locks that hit the middle of his back, smooth pale skin, a lean and toned build, and a breathtaking smile. I couldn’t understand why this nearly angelic human being was talking to me.
