'Wanker' = Idiot or fool
I squinted open my eyes as I heard the soft mumble of music come from the kitchen. I sat up in my wrinkled sheets and stared at my very untidy room.
Used candles that barely hung onto their wicks were by my ageing windowsill that was framed with peeling paint. An ashtray of week-old cigarettes lay next to them, looking as if the slightest breeze would cause them to disintegrate. Layers of old clothes littered the floor and my bed was a mess.
I stared at the state my room was in, and made a mental note:
New school year resolutions:
1. Keep room in liveable conditions.
I sleepily gazed at the cigarette butts.
2. Quit smoking.
As I clambered out of bed, I tripped over various books that had been discarded onto my un-vacuumed floor.
3. Buy a new bookshelf.
Then my eyes caught a slightly mouldy looking notebook which contained last year's resolutions.
4. Stick to resolutions.
I decided quickly that this was going to be my year. It was the first year that I was far away from my family and in particular, my father. Thank God. I lived in a lovely apartment (Thanks Mum) with the only person I really love. Mable. She was in the kitchen probably cooking me some breakfast that I definitely didn't deserve.
I trudged to the small kitchen, wearing some oversized t-shirt of an old 90s band that I probably scavenged from my floor somewhere last night.
As soon as I entered our bright kitchen, I couldn't help but let a smile slowly overtake my face. Mable was there, humming along with the music, making waffles. A halo of illuminated brown hair surrounded her freckled face.
Our kitchen was fairly small but light and airy. We had made sure to put plants all over to make the damp apartment seem more lively. The one thing I seemed to be good at was keeping plants alive.
I plopped myself down on one of our makeshift bar stools as Mable grinned at me and placed a fluffy waffle onto my plate.
"Morning." She said, smiling. She turned down our retro radio and took a seat next to me.
"How long have you been up?" I asked, self consciously.
"Only a couple of hours." She said through a mouthful of waffles. "You?"
I glanced at the clock. "Five minutes? Give or take thirty seconds." She grinned at me.
"When do classes start?"
"11 I think." I made me sound sceptical when in reality, I had spent ages memorising both our schedules, not being able to believe that they were real, and we were really here. I took a bite of her light waffles. Delicious, as always.
Mable glanced at the pristine watch in her right wrist.
Resolution 5: Be like Mable.
"Oh shit, I've got to go. I'll meet you at school. Are you sure you don't want to dance with me?"
It was the same routine pretty much every morning. Mable would ask me if I wanted to do ballet with her. I would say no. She knew my answer. It had been the same for two years. Still, I appreciated the effort.
"I'm good, thanks." She gave me a small smile.
"Well, only if you're sure?"
"I'm sure." I gave her a reassuring smile. It seemed that Mable's one goal in life was to get me to dance again.
Mable gave me one last smile before shutting our front door behind her. I sighed as the heaviness of the silence weighed in. All that kept me company was the soft muttering that came from the radio.
I quickly finished my waffles before deciding to tackle the garbage dump otherwise known as my bedroom.
I grabbed my headphones before starting to sort all of the clothes that lay abandoned on my floor into clean and dirty piles.
I chose to ignore the fact that the dirty pile was considerably larger and moved onto the rest of my room.
As I was sorting through my books, a loud ring echoed through the apartment. I froze, my hand clutching Jane Eyre.
The noise shoved itself into the room, taking up all the space, impossible to ignore, even with the music that was blasting from my headphones. I turned up the volume and tried to ignore it. It squashed every semblance of warmth in the room and suddenly, I was all too aware of the draught coming through my decrepit window.
I knew who was calling.
Only one number ever called.
I knew I would have to answer at some point but today was not going to be that day. It was so mentally taxing just picking up that landline that my fingers ached at the thought.
I didn't move a muscle until the last ring punched its way through. A soft sigh fell from my lips. So small, but it held so many pent up emotions.
Shards of buried memories stabbed their way into my mind, forcing me to acknowledge them. Just like Mable had taught me, I focused on something else.
I shoved a few books under my bed and emptied out my ashtray, making sure to not get too close to the landline in case it jumped out at me.
After I had collected myself a little bit, I took a shower to rinse away the already stressful morning.
As the water slid down my body, I thought about how maybe I wasn't ready for school yet.
Mable and I had moved straight here, to New York.
I had just turned eighteen when we arrived, which meant I could use the money my mother left me after she died just over 4 years ago. I already had it all planned out.
I had kept cut outs from magazines under my bed of what our apartment was going to look like. I loved London but it was too close to home. Too close to my family. Too close to her.
I probably should have healed by now, sometimes I wonder why I haven't. Every time I get close, that bright red phone rings again and the wounds are reopened.
My mother was from New York and my dad London but she dropped everything she knew for him and moved there.
I respected it but knowing my dad I was always just a little confused.
Mable is from New York too but she came to London for ballet. I had been here a few times, but other than my mother, know no family here. Mable's the only person I have.
I step out of the shower and glance at the clock.
9:30am.
I quickly dry my hair before putting on some baggy jeans I found in a run down North London charity shop, a plain tank and an off the shoulder jumper.
I tied up my hair, out of my face. Even though I liked my hair long, for anxious days such as this one, I had to have it up.
I put silver jewellery in and grabbed my backpack, shoving the book I was currently reading - Murder on the orient express. I went over to my small bedside table, took the key that I always wore around my neck, unlocked the drawer and peered inside. I rifled through the letters my mother had sent me when she was in hospital, until I landed one that was labelled 'For whenever you're feeling unlucky.' Mum knew me best.
I stepped out of the building, feeling a little bit more optimistic about the morning and the day to come.
I glanced at my phone.
10:15am.
I turned a corner to find my favourite coffee shop.
It had vines crawling down the sides of the cafe and the name painted in soft green.
I opened the door to be greeted with a familiar pair of deep blue eyes.
Jack had worked in this place since I had been living here. Besides Mable, he's the only other person I would really consider a friend.
Warm steam was flowing from the coffee machine, scenting the morning air with roasted beans.
Small rounded chairs lined the windows and cozy sofas were squashed in corners.
"Caramel macchiato?" He asked with a smile.
"Yes please. Make it a large too?"
He raised one eyebrow, not saying anything. I just grinned.
"First day of school?" He asked as he started to make my drink.
I sighed. For an instant I had forgotten about that. A stab of anxiety gnawed at my stomach but I pushed it down.
"Thought so." He said, sliding my drink across the cream counter.
"How's it going with that Simon guy?" I questioned, not-so-subtly changing the subject.
Jack just rolled his eyes. "Don't even get me started."
"That bad?"
"He's just such a dick, and believe me I know that, but I still like him?" He shook his head in slight disbelief.
"Just don't then." He gave me a flat look. I guess I deserved it considering I had never actually been in a relationship myself.
"How are the resolutions going?" He asked, innocently. I grimaced. I regretted telling him that I make them every year.
"Well, I did clean my room but I also had a cigarette."
"Jesus, you really need to stop doing that." I just shrugged in response.
"Don't look at me, blame my brother." He raised his eyebrows. He was still giving me that flat look that he does so well.
"We'll catch up properly later, you need to get to school."
"Shit, you're right." I said, while giving him a quick hug over the counter and quickly leaving the cafe, coffee in hand.
---
I clambered, off of the bus, my mother's letter in hand for comfort when I realised it was pissing down.
I glanced warily at the letter. So much for good luck. I decided to shrug it off and make the most of it and I hurried to my University.
Weaving through the puddles, I was nearly at the front office when I heard my name being called.
"Val! Wait up!" I recognised it instantly as Mable.
I was about to turn around but before I could, I noticed a guy walking right at me. He wasn't looking at me but instead seemed to be caught up in his own thoughts. He was around my age, had warm brown hair, green eyes and was very tall. He was gorgeous.
I tried to move out the way since he clearly wasn't but before I could, I was knocked down, straight into a puddle. Asshole.
"Sorry." I said, on instinct. He made no reply.
"Ouch." I grumbled, with a rather sore ass.
He made no effort to help, probably didn't even notice me and just carried on storming off.
"Fucking wanker." I grumbled, glaring after him.
I was too busy sending him daggers to notice my mum's letter, floating in a murky puddle, the ink of her treasured handwriting already smudging.
"No, no, no, no, no. No!" I grabbed the letter, shaking it violently and then inspecting the damage. The writing was gone. All of it. The soft curves of her letters now fading in and out, illegible.
This letter was one of three my father let me keep from her. Or rather, one of three letters he did not know about. Now I had two.
I was close to tears. I could feel them prickling at the corners of my eyes. I wouldn't. Not today. Today, I needed to be strong. It was just a stupid letter. Deep down I knew it was more than that.
"Val! Oh my God, are you okay?!" Mable said, having rushed over and was now helping me up.
"I'm fine." I sighed. Mable's eyes moved to the dripping piece of paper in my hand.
"Is that-" She asked. I gave a short nod, pressing my lips in a thin line, afraid of tears spilling over if I didn't.
"Oh Val."
"It's just a piece of paper. It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have been carrying it in my hand anyway. It was stupid." Although I feigned indifference, I knew who was to blame. My face heated up in anger just thinking about him. The dickhead that just pushed me over and didn't have the decency to even apologise. Even after I apologised to him!
"Yeah, I know. I saw that Thomas Verner was the one to knock you over."
"Thomas who?" I said, rubbing my painful bum.
"Verner. He's like a local celebrity. His family is insanely rich and own a whole hotel empire." She added.
"Well, I don't care who he is, he's a fucking wanker that has no politeness! I mean, I know Londoners are bad but I didn't realise New Yorkers were worse." I grumbled.
Mable cracked a smile. "We're not all bad. And neither are Londoners. Come on, let's get to class."
I sighed and hooked my arm through the one she held out to me and we walked in the direction of the office.
Once we had checked in, I made my way to English Literature, determined to be on time. I had had plenty of setbacks this morning and didn't need anymore.
When I reached the lecture hall, I decided to take a seat close to the back, not wanting to draw too much attention.
I reached into my backpack, grabbed my laptop, notebook and pencil case, eager to learn when I heard the seat next to me creak as somebody sat in it.
I looked up to see none other than Thomas Verner.
He turned to me, and I was suddenly hit with those green eyes before I narrowed my own and turned to the professor. I can't believe the amount of bad luck I was having today. I made a mental note to switch seats next lesson.
Professor Twine smiled at us all before he said "Hello class of 2027. Now, as one's year progress, one's memory becomes hazy and I would like to get to know all of your faces." I glanced at the sixty or so said faces.
"Therefore, I would appreciate it if you stuck to the seats you have chosen for yourself."
Fuck.
---
Here's chapter one! I hope you're enjoying the story so far and chapter two will be from Thomas' pov
Word count: 2310