Sequel: Untitled Two ›
Untitled
Chapter Three
Morning came.
I woke up to find my phone telling me that it had had a text. I opened it up. It was from Eleanor.
‘Hey, sorry about last night but I was actually loving the talk, although I had been sleeping. My life’s pretty boring. Mum and Dad are away in Crete and I’ve got nothing to do. Coffee after school?’
By this she meant after school for her. And by coffee she meant meeting up at Starbucks whilst I turned up 20 minutes late, dragging half the capital’s bushes into the shop with me. Because I’d have been ‘trying to find a new shortcut’.
At 12 o’clock my tutor arrived to teach me the joys of French, German, Spanish and Mandarin, and also to tell me about Business and Economics higher level. Which was so easy it was unbelievable. She left at 3.
That gave me an hour before I should be at Starbucks. Fuck. If I was late again this time she might murder me, although she never appeared to mind on the outside, I could always tell she was quite annoyed. I would have to leave the house now, go and get a Tube and then hopefully I might arrive there before her. For the first time ever.
As ever the journey into the country’s capital was fairly uneventful, apart from the odd person asking for my autograph, or an amateur photographer hoping to gain a few thousand by posting the picture of me on mrpaparazzi.com. I didn’t really care to be honest. I had gone beyond the point of caring. At least I didn’t have a swarm of photographers outside of my house every morning.
I was there 10 minutes before four o’clock and was amazed to find that she was there already. Shit. I repeated that as I sat down at the table holding a cappuccino that was so full to the brim it might have gone all over someone and then they would have sued me.
“Hello Richard.” She said in that cheery voice that told me that she was pleased to see that I had arrived early, but I had done something wrong.
“What is it this time?”
“You don’t like cappuccinos.”
“FUDGE!!” I shouted, the entire shop came to a standstill. Fuck, way to draw attention to yourself.
I positioned myself facing the window, hoping for some sort of inspiration and idea to spring to my head about what next month’s report would be. When Darren walked past. Eleanor was still talking to me, but it seemed a million miles away. Darren was in the year above me and was therefore in sixth form college. Gay. And Gorgeous.
“RICHARD!” that was the second time someone had shouted at our table in 20 seconds. Perhaps someone might call security.
“What?”
“What are you going to do for next months report?”
By this time Darren had left the window, and therefore presumably had no more chance of seeing me, or me seeing him for that matter. The little light of hope in my stomach disappeared.
“I don’t know.”
“You just saw Darren didn’t you?”
Bloody hell.
“No.”
“Yes you did.”
“No I did not!”
“Richard, your protesting about it like a screaming child, and you normally know what you’re going to do for next month’s report by now.”
“Yes, OK, I saw him. But I also don’t know what to do for next month,” I paused “Do you think he would be alright for me?”
“Richard, you can’t make somebody love you.”
“I know.”
“You just have to stalk them and hope for the best.”
That was definitely a Laugh Out Loud moment.
I woke up to find my phone telling me that it had had a text. I opened it up. It was from Eleanor.
‘Hey, sorry about last night but I was actually loving the talk, although I had been sleeping. My life’s pretty boring. Mum and Dad are away in Crete and I’ve got nothing to do. Coffee after school?’
By this she meant after school for her. And by coffee she meant meeting up at Starbucks whilst I turned up 20 minutes late, dragging half the capital’s bushes into the shop with me. Because I’d have been ‘trying to find a new shortcut’.
At 12 o’clock my tutor arrived to teach me the joys of French, German, Spanish and Mandarin, and also to tell me about Business and Economics higher level. Which was so easy it was unbelievable. She left at 3.
That gave me an hour before I should be at Starbucks. Fuck. If I was late again this time she might murder me, although she never appeared to mind on the outside, I could always tell she was quite annoyed. I would have to leave the house now, go and get a Tube and then hopefully I might arrive there before her. For the first time ever.
As ever the journey into the country’s capital was fairly uneventful, apart from the odd person asking for my autograph, or an amateur photographer hoping to gain a few thousand by posting the picture of me on mrpaparazzi.com. I didn’t really care to be honest. I had gone beyond the point of caring. At least I didn’t have a swarm of photographers outside of my house every morning.
I was there 10 minutes before four o’clock and was amazed to find that she was there already. Shit. I repeated that as I sat down at the table holding a cappuccino that was so full to the brim it might have gone all over someone and then they would have sued me.
“Hello Richard.” She said in that cheery voice that told me that she was pleased to see that I had arrived early, but I had done something wrong.
“What is it this time?”
“You don’t like cappuccinos.”
“FUDGE!!” I shouted, the entire shop came to a standstill. Fuck, way to draw attention to yourself.
I positioned myself facing the window, hoping for some sort of inspiration and idea to spring to my head about what next month’s report would be. When Darren walked past. Eleanor was still talking to me, but it seemed a million miles away. Darren was in the year above me and was therefore in sixth form college. Gay. And Gorgeous.
“RICHARD!” that was the second time someone had shouted at our table in 20 seconds. Perhaps someone might call security.
“What?”
“What are you going to do for next months report?”
By this time Darren had left the window, and therefore presumably had no more chance of seeing me, or me seeing him for that matter. The little light of hope in my stomach disappeared.
“I don’t know.”
“You just saw Darren didn’t you?”
Bloody hell.
“No.”
“Yes you did.”
“No I did not!”
“Richard, your protesting about it like a screaming child, and you normally know what you’re going to do for next month’s report by now.”
“Yes, OK, I saw him. But I also don’t know what to do for next month,” I paused “Do you think he would be alright for me?”
“Richard, you can’t make somebody love you.”
“I know.”
“You just have to stalk them and hope for the best.”
That was definitely a Laugh Out Loud moment.