British Guys Aren't Cute

British Guys Aren't Cute - Chapter Twenty-Six

'Like all the best families, we have our share of eccentricities, of impetuous and wayward youngsters and of family disagreements,'

Queen Elizabeth

Chapter Twenty-Six

Post 279:

I feel like I have gone over this before, but I think it needs to be said again. British guys do not dress better than American guys. In fact they probably are the worst dressed male nationality in the entire world. Seriously, I don’t know how they manage to get themselves out of bed and into a suit without messing it up somehow. 

Post 278:

British Guys will not call you ‘love’. Only taxi drivers call you love; and in my 21 years (3 of those in London) I have never, ever seen a hot taxi drive, nor have I seen one under the age of 42. 

Nora lay wide awake, staring up at her ceiling. She had stayed awake all night long, twisting and turning in her bed sheets as she desperately tried to figure out what was going on in her mind. Dark shadows lay beneath her tired green eyes, contrasting with her ghostly pale skin. She was still in her dress from the night before, not caring if the dress was wrinkled or not. Thoughts ran round Nora’s head, playing havoc with her mind and sleep. 

Why had she listened to Dan? Why was he getting to her now and not earlier? Did she believe Dan? Was she being stupid? 

Nora knew the answers, they just weren’t the answers she wanted, they were not the answers her heart wanted. 

She turned over in her head, groaning at her brain as she did. It had come to the same conclusions about the questions she had again, the same conclusions that she had been coming up with all night. They were not the answers she wanted, and so the thinking process began all over again, until she got the answers she wanted, or settled for the ones she already had. 

The phone call from her mother popped back into her head. Nothing out of the usual, just her calling pissed, rambling down the phone to Nora. Nora had been the only person who looked after her mother when she was younger, with her older sisters either gone or used to their mothers behavior. Because of that, Nora was the one that her mother would call when she was drunk and wanted somebody to put her to bed, despite Nora living over 500 miles away. Nora had managed to get her mother sober a couple of months ago, she had gone home in easter with Skye and had managed to get her mother to stop drinking, but she had obviously gone back to the bottle. 

Suddenly, Nora heard the front door of her apartment opening, her heart beat instantly beginning to race as her mind began to make a list of people it could be. 

“Nora, you here?” A voice shouted. Nora quickly rolling off her bed before walking out of her room and through to the hall to see who had walked into her apartment, not caring that she looked a mess. 

“Sean, why are you here?” She questioned as she spotted Sean in the doorway. His blue eyes looked her up and down, taking in her tired green eyes and pale white skin.

“Nor, you look terrible!” 

“Thanks for the Sean! Wonderful friend you are,” She replied dryly, rolling her eyes at her best friend. “Why are you here?” She questioned, repeating herself.