Find Me Alastar

He gives me a stiff smile and nods. I turn and leave the office, finally feeling a little better.

I walk down the street on a mission. It’s my lunch break and I am going to Heirloom to see Beverly to find

out more about my ring. I have been reading my love letters and I’m officially beyond intrigued. I want to

know if they have any names or dates or… anything-anything that gives me more information so I can

research. I smile to myself as I walk. It’s ironic, really. I came to London to soak up the history and I

somehow find myself as the owner of a beautiful antique ring and a box of precious love letters between a

princess and her guard. Who would have thought? I’m not actually sure where Heirloom is, though. I have

been here twice but the place I thought that it was looks like it’s now a travel agency? I must be in the

wrong laneway or something. I look back to where I came from. Gosh, these cobble streets all look the

same. It’s here somewhere. I search aimlessly until I run out of time and have to be back at work.

Damn it, where is it? Maybe I should ring Mr. Twinkle and ask him where it is. My heart jumps at just

the thought. Should I ring him? I haven’t even let myself contemplate it before now.

What would I say? I think about this from his point of view. He said he didn’t share and then we spent

three dreamy nights together. I smile at the memory. God, he’s damn delicious. Then he asked to see me

again on the Friday night and I said I had something on. Hmm. Then if he was walking across the road and

saw me with Mark, I suppose I would have investigated, too. Bloody Mark was all over me, which didn’t

help. I was jealous of him just talking to a girl at the bar. I can’t imagine if she had had her lips all over

his hand or he had been holding her hand under the table. Oh shit. Maybe he is right and this is partly my

fault? I just expected him to know I didn’t want Mark.

But how would he know that I’m not just stringing him along? He doesn’t know my character. He

doesn’t know I don’t have the energy or morals to betray and cheat on anyone.

This is definitely something to think about.

4pm on the longest day in history and I am in the kitchen devouring every damn biscuit I can find.

Screw the diet. I don’t have the stamina for this shit.

I hold my phone in my hand and stare at it, urging myself to just ring Alastar.

I want to see him, and the more I have dissected this situation all afternoon, the more I can see his

point.

Text. I will text him. What will I text him? Something undramatic. I make my coffee as I think. I’m not

apologizing because he was totally out of line to behave the way he did. I’m not sucking up, either. I don’t

want to appear pathetic and needy. What was the last thing he said to me?Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Take your freedom.

I smirk and text.

I don’t want your freedom.

I stare at my phone. Reply, please, reply. I pour my milk into my coffee and wait.

Damn it, he’s not going to reply.

I head back to my desk and sit down when my phone beeps?

Does Wham know that you’re are using their lyrics?

Huh? I quickly Google Wham and type in freedom. What is he talking about?

The lyrics of a song come up and I smile broadly. Trust him to know this.

I text back the next lines of the song.

I don’t want to play around.

I wait for his reply and then I immediately text again.

Part time love just brings me down.

I wait for his reply and I know he’s probably smirking. My phone beeps.

I scramble to read it. The others aren’t at their desks and will be back any moment, it reads.

And?

Bloody hell, do I have to spell it out? He’s not going to make this easy. I text back.

Can I see you tonight?

I wait, and I wait. My eyes guiltily scan around the office as I tap my pencil against my desk. Damn, I

am slacking today. I have hardly done a thing. Maybe Stephanie really should tattle on me? A text bounces

back.

That depends.

I frown and text back.

On what?

A text fires back.

On whether you are going to go all praying mantis on me.

I laugh out loud and then remember where I am, quickly regaining some composure as my eyes dart

around again. I quickly reply. Shit, I am going to get caught. Without a doubt, I am the world’s worst

employee.

No.