Just a Feeling

The next morning, I woke up to the stomping sound from the room above mine. Not only that, my stomach felt like it just got twisted into knots. It ached madly that I couldn’t even get out of bed. What’s worse is that today’s my scheduled trip to the University. Maybe it was okay not go instead but since the program director suggested this and even scheduled it herself, I figured it would be not okay to miss it. So it all went down to me fighting the insane pain I was feeling inside, and dragging myself to Cambridge.

Basically, my whole trip there consisted of me almost puking at the staircase but managed to keep it in until I reached the ground floor where a trash bin was placed. And then there’s me hailing a cab and trying to not puke inside. Miraculously, I managed to reach my destination without puking at anything—or anyone and it felt like such an achievement. Too bad it didn’t last long enough so my campus tour was cut short. The program director suggested I should visit the clinic and get a check-up. So I did.

Apparently, and to my surprise, I got food-poisoning. Turns out that the dessert I had last night wasn’t really fresh anymore, so it corrupted my digestive tracks and now I’m having trouble getting rid of the toxins. I was sent home and advised to rest up until all the rotten food I ate were all gone. That didn’t take long either; my digestive system was already cleared up in a span of 4 hours. All I had to do was sit on the couch, then run for the bathroom whenever I felt like puking my guts out.

When I had finally found the time to just lie down without feeling nauseous, there was a knock on the door. A part of me flinched in annoyance since I was only down for about 10 seconds and now there’s already a need to get up again. “Who is it?” I said out loud. I opened the door swiftly and a face of an unfamiliar young lad appeared in front of me. He was wearing a sweater with an obnoxiously huge letter “F” printed on it and nothing else.

His face was so…masculine, as if it was chiselled into perfection. Not to mention his bright Gray orbs meeting mine. He smiled then and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Finn!” enthusiasm filled his voice, as if he was actually glad to meet me. I shook his hand and introduced myself back before letting him come in.

“So…welcome new neighbour.” Finn said as he flopped down the sofa. His eyes were just wandering around, the walls, the picture frames and the furniture.

“Thank you.” I replied. “Uh—can I help you with anything?”

A smile spread across his face. “Actually, I should be the one asking you that question. Can I help you with anything?” he said, looking around and eventually seeing the unpacked boxes and luggage at a corner near the window.

“Thank you, but no thanks. I’m fine, besides I still have a lot of time for unpacking.” There was no way I’d let a complete stranger touch my things.

He insisted on helping though, and mind you, he was persistent. According to him, it was the least he could do since I’m supposed to have a tough time being his neighbour in the near future. So of course! Who could resist a 5”11 tall, British guy with the brightest Gray orbs and seems to be extremely cheeky? Exactly! No one. Well unless you’re completely Lesbian and in no way interested in someone of the opposite sex. The point is, I fell for the cheekiness and he just made his way through the boxes at the corner.

Slowly and carefully, he took the out the things inside the box. It’s weird and sounds creepy but I found myself standing at the same spot as I was 20 minutes ago, staring at him. While all he did was talk about his University, and his age, and his hobby. It was interesting and all but I was too distracted by his presence alone. Are the boys in England naturally this helpful and—well, sweet? I shrugged the thought off and snapped back to reality. He was still talking about himself, and then stopped after a while. “Oh sorry, I have this habit of talking people’s ears off.” he smiled again.

“Oh it’s okay, carry on.” My voice came out a little smaller than I’d expected.

It’s only been a day since I’ve arrived in England, and it seems like my life’s already taking a huge turn. First Zayn and now this guy walks in to my life as if it’s a door opened for everyone to come. Back then, I was pretty good in neglecting people who tried to come close, they would always be kept on arm’s length. But now here I am, carefully observing this guy I’d only met about 30 minutes ago, as he rummaged through my stuff. When he finally finished unpacking a box, he moved to another one. I realized the box contained most of my clothes, shirts, pants, underwear. “Wait, don’t touch that!” I exclaimed. He stopped and turned to me with amusement drawn across his face. He held his both his hands up and stepped away.

“I’ll unpack this. You can do the other one.” I stated.

He nodded and continued to a different box. “Alright Miss—uh”

“Max, my name’s Max.”

A hint of surprise fell on his face. I guess he didn’t see that coming. “Wow…I never took you for a Max.” he said. And I fell into laughter. “I’m sorry, that was rude. Haha, I just figured you were more of a Sophia…or a Marie.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” I scoffed.

He laughed adorably at this and moved to the empty seat next to me. An arm wrapped around my shoulder and he stared me down. “You know, you’re not supposed to that to strangers.” I said. And he gave me a questioning look. So I looked over to his arm, motioning him to move it. But he didn’t budge—at all.

“You, love, are not a stranger.” He smirked. “For I already unpacked your things for yah.” His eyes were bored to mine and we had a short stare-down.

He then exhaled deeply, smiled and in one swift move, leaned in and placed a kiss on my cheek before dashing for the door. “See you later, love.” He shouted from the hallway before disappearing to the stairs.

I, on the other hand, was left dumbfounded. My stomach, once again, was tied up in knots. I couldn’t move myself, not even an inch. “Holy shit” I thought to myself. And everything that has happened yesterday flashed inside my head. What exactly is happening? Good lord. I tried to gather my scattered thoughts and gain back my composure, because things like this don’t just happen to a person over a day or two. And being in a different country that’s across the country where you’ve lived for the rest of your life isn’t much of an exception.

“Deep breaths” I chanted quietly. Maybe it was just a friendly kiss. I mean, most English boys do it all the time—right? He probably does it to every girl he meets, or something like that. The thought kept messing with my mind, therefore it was shrugged off. I had a lot of time in hand and I wasn’t going to spend all day at home.