wing morn

ents and your visa?" Mum asked as she

of things that she needed to do or things she needed to buy. This time, she

wallet you bought for me," I re

ce. Everybody should have one," Mum suggested as she wagged her index finger at Dad. He had initi

money. We packed your suitcases. Do you have a spare charger? Did you get one?" she que

ne up the other

you some magazines to read on the plane," she r

t to buy those," I re

harp as a whip, this one," Dad pra

ck on the lips before re

rs otherwise." Her eyes creased with concern. "You will be okay ou

re will be loads of things to do when I'm not working. I'm sure that there will be plenty of people for me to make friends with. Th

father and I will be on the next flight over

. I promised myself that I wouldn't cry, but my soft self was barely holding back the tears. I

ook everything I had not to fling my arms ar

going to miss

e giant when it came to us, but to anyone else, he was an intimidati

baby," her shoulders bounce

o detach myself from them and walk away. As I turned around to give a final wave, I noticed them clinging to each other in a tight embrace. The

daunting feeling, the thought of fending for myself. Not only that, I hated flying. Just the thought of having a vast space between me and the ground made my ass cheeks twitch with trepidation. I resorted to occupying myself with magazines and peru

run for the baggage conveyor before anybody else could get there. It was a British thing. We hated queueing. It was no different to a German touris

ke a typical disgruntled Brit - complaining about the shit service and how they better not have lost my luggage or else there would be hell to pay. Then as the cases emerged, my luggage sporadically popped through the flaps as if they'd bee

his hair flat with gel or whether it was greasy because the light just seemed to bounce off all the moisture. The tweed suit jacket he had teamed with an Oxford shirt, jeans, and Converse made it look as if he couldn

e?" He greeted me with a

eavage, and back again as if they were having an involuntary spasm. I zipped

lied, unsure who

hair and offered hi

or a professor

, aren't you? So pretty." Peter narrowed his eyes in a cheeky analysis. It didn't seem seedy, and he certainly didn't mean to intimidate

over their tongues when they catch an eyeful

parked, the fucking wobbly wheel protesting like a dying mouse. Then Peter helped me to load my luggage onto the back seats. He jogged past me to open the passenger

never ran out of things to talk about. I discovered that his age exceeded the mid-twenty benchmark and that he was in his mid-thirties, unmarried, and owned a sho

t far because I was getting a numb bum from all the sitting down. Not to m

tops. Depending on whether the roads are clear. There's a lot of trav

ression sank

four hour

. "Where is Whit

know where to go. The guest house where you'll be staying is right by the forest. The owners are called Chloe and Lincoln Anderson

wn way there. I could sleep for a week,

se. It was late into the night by the time we arrived. I could barel

lurred, wiping the

. "I got you here safe and sou

d smile. "I didn't do