London clearly doesn’t want me on its territory.

My morning started in a disaster and it didn’t stop with that awkward first meeting with Zayn. Ah yes, I can still remember his name. Zayn. Hallelujah. Well, I really should be, because if it wasn’t for Zayn then I would have missed my orientation day and I would be saying goodbye to my slot in the university. And really, Zayn saved me like I’m a damsel in distress –which I am in that very moment whether I admit it or not- and as much as it wasn’t my nature to accept help because it makes me feel inferior when I am already admittedly a walking failure, I still accepted the pair of jeans and shirt he bought for me from the shop on the ground floor of the condominium building and his gracious offer of driving me to school because again it was the best he could do to help me even though he only knew me for the first time. But that wasn’t just something. He really did save my ass and I feel like I owe him big time. Remembering his name would be a good start.

So going back to my disaster of a story –ah, yes, some kind of tragic tale it is. I lost my dorm room. Because I was late for the orientation, they gave my dorm room to someone else. Apparently, my supposed roommate backed out the very last minute and because I was late to meet the requirements and sign the papers, they gave it away. That means I have no choice but to live with Michelle and Andrea for the meantime. For a foreign student on a foreign land, that should have been good news because that means practicality and convenience. For a special case like yours truly, that means I have to take the tube to get to school from where my sister and cousin lives. That also means expect the inevitable countless number of accidents that I would be on a police station, calling Michelle or Andrea and asking them to come pick me up because I lost my way home.

For the umpteenth time, my memory blows.

Michelle asked Andrea to come and pick me in the school. Apparently, Michelle called Zayn and asked where I was because she can’t reach my own phone and David Beckham 2.0 won’t answer his. How she knew Zayn was the one to call, I don’t know and I never asked anyway. I couldn’t even bother because I was already distraught by how my day’s going. Or maybe Michelle did call the other boys, too. Yet again maybe I was just really lucky that Zayn was the one who made an appearance at Beckham look-a-like’s house because let’s hella face it, if Racist Receding Hairline or Pixie Sticks did, they won’t even give a fuck that I’m clad in nothing but a dirty bed sheet and crying my way back to Singapore. They’ll probably just call the security to come and kick my skinny ass out of the condominium.

And again, we end to me being in large debt to Mr. Zayn…whatsoever his last name is. It takes fifteen of my brain cells every time I remember and mention his name. It would take triple the number of it to remember his whole goddamned name. Let’s just stick with the first name, shall we? Let’s just also assume we’ve minimally bonded (read: not!) over that 30 minute drive so we’re good on calling each other on first name basis.

“You disappeared on me last night. I was looking for you, Velvet. Didn’t you remember that I told you to stick around because I was going to introduce some good looking lads? You’ve missed a lot of ‘em!” Andrea said as we made our way to the parking lot. Just like Michelle, my younger cousin walked like she was strutting down a runway. If paparazzi were anywhere near us, they’d think she’s a celebrity and I’d look like the pissed personal assistant.

And I was informed by the way she showed off the car keys, twirling it around her fingers, that she’s got her own wheels. Nice. I get shotgun. Note sarcasm.

“Can we not talk about boys right now, please?” I sighed exasperatedly. Like, really. I have a massive hangover and the topic of the opposite gender just makes me even more dizzy –especially with the how that I want to remember exactly what happened to that me and that One Direction guy last night but I can’t because I have faulty brain cells inside my freaking skull.

“Wait,” Andrea stopped, halting me as well. “Oh, my god! Did you get deflowered last night?!” She didn’t just say it. She actually shouted. The parking lot wasn’t exactly deserted so people probably think we’re crazy Asians.

“Look, I’m tired and still really jetlagged, and fucking hung over. Can we just go home and let me rest for a little while, yeah? We’ll talk when I feel human again, alright?”

Andrea looked smugly at me. “But if you don’t tell me now, you’ll just forget everything later and I’ll never know the story anymore.”

“I didn’t know my virginity issue matters so much for you.” I scoffed back at her.

All I want is a hot bath, a good long rest and a fucking charm that will attract me some good luck. Is that too much to ask?!

“Hey, you still have your voice recorder?” Andrea asked. She reached out on my neck and grabbed on it. “Weird. I remember Michelle mentioned before that you’re trying not to use it anymore?” Andrea raised her brows at me and smirked. “Did you record your kinky night here? Is it something to remember? Voice fetish, yeah?”

“Gross, Andrea.” I said as I lightly shoved her in the shoulders. “The only thing recorded here is Michelle teaching me how to do a proper blowjob.” I told her, making me cringe at the fact I can’t even remember if I did my first blow job or not. “And something about a ten inched dick.”

Andrea’s face scrunched in a still pretty way. “Gross, Michelle.”

I shot her a curious look, but Andrea already skipped away even before I could ask her what I heard about her last night.

“Ta-da!” Andrea screamed proudly as she showed her red mini cooper to me. “Ain’t she lovely?”

“Wow.” I said in awe. How could my nineteen year old cousin afford this kind of ride? Oh, my god! Is she a mistress to some old and presumably dying English bloke?! I thought she’s gay?! Oh, my god! Is she a mistress to some old and presumably dying English lady?!

“I know, right?!” Andrea beamed, her pearly whites showing brightly under her thin pink lips. “The truth is, Rose is actually yours, Unni.”

“Wait, what?”

“I called her Rose because she’s red and beautiful, just like an English rose. Wait, you should record this awesomeness–”

“No. You said that this…This is mine?!”

“Yeah, Michelle bought it for you as your welcoming present.”

“Michelle bought me my own car?!”

So it’s not Andrea’s. Oh, my God! Is my big sister a mistress to a dying English guy?! Or maybe the money’s from Pixie Stick’s bank account!

“Where in the hell did she get the money to buy me this car?!” I asked, still couldn’t believe that Michelle would actually buy me a luxurious car and expect me to drive it around London confidently.

Andrea raised her brows at me and stated, “You do know that Michelle’s pretty successful and loaded with British pounds, right? Of course she’d give everything for her little sister. You are one lucky bitch, Velvet!”

“I can’t drive this! I don’t even have a license yet.” I told her straight to the point.

Actually, I’m really scared that I might just wreck this beautiful mini cooper because again I think I attract bad luck.

“That’s why you have me! Andrea Hann, your designated driver for a little while until you get your driver’s license.”

As we hop on to the vehicle, Andrea said, “You have to promise something though.”

“What, Mum, that I’d drive below the minimum limit?”

“No. Promise me that you’ll call this beauty my darling Rose.” She was serious about it.

“You’re so weird. Don’t you have your own car?” I asked.

“I’m a broke college student, Velvet. I can’t afford my own wheels unless I become a slut to some old and dying bloke. That’s why I feel like wanting Rose on my own, since I’ve been already driving her for the last two weeks. Hey, you’d still let me borrow her, right?”

It’d better be me wrecking Rose than her, so, no. But she could be my driver (read: yaas, slave), she already said herself.

“And besides, I can just call Harry or Niall if I do needed a ride anywhere. Those lads are just the best gentlemen that make their momma’s proud. They don’t even expect something in return.” She stopped for a second and then shrugged. “Well, Harry doesn’t. Niall once asked if I’d blow him-”

“Who?”

“The lads! One Direction? I saw you talking to them last night.”

“No, I mean, who’s Harry and who’s Niall?”

Andrea sighed. “Take notes of this, Dory. Niall is the blonde one and Harry is the curly haired one. They say Harry’s the flirty one, but actually it’s Niall. He’d hit on any birdie that’s got huge boobies.” I’ve fried way too much brain cells in that matter of 15 seconds, and Andrea talks way too fast for my liking. She’s forgotten the approach to me should be slow, damn it. “Skinny lads but they have hella fine pack of abs, actually all of them, but I’ve only seen Harry’s and Niall’s up close.” I shot her a curious look but Andrea just shrugged the malice off. “What? We’re close; Me, Niall and Harry. I’m working with them in their next album. We’re pretty close to finishing the record and I’ll get my name signed on that damn album. Aren’t you happy for me, Velvet?! One Direction is pretty much the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me and my career.” She cheered as she took on the wheel and drove off the traffic.

“Oh yeah, and they called you gay.” I blurted out which surprised both Andrea and I.

“Huh?”

“Erm…Fake Blondie, I mean, Niall. Last night, he called you gay. He said you’re a lesbian.”

Andrea just looked at me in a strange way. We hit a stop in the intersection and she still hasn’t said a word. Maybe she is gay. But why didn’t I know about that? She’s had boyfriends before, even met some of them, and now she’s gay? She’s only been here in this country for over two years. Maybe those One Direction dudes are bad influence.

Then I heard Andrea chuckled.

“I guess Michelle’s wrong. You’ve got a lot of learning to do and you’ll probably gonna need to record every single one you’ll hear, Velvet.”

----------(Blue Velvet)----------

As my eyes fluttered open on my third day in London, I have high hopes that it would go as planned –with less failure from the previous days. Forgotten everything about the other nights with that bubblegum boy band and how Zayn was super nice to me after my disaster. Ugh. Stop.

I sat up on my bed and stretched. The window was wide open and the bright daylight was creeping on my room and I know I’m already gonna love today–

“Good morning!”

Startled by the screaming voice from the other balcony, I scrambled out of bed and went straight to the floor. My face didn’t hit the floor but my lovely buttocks did, and it fucking hurts!

“Whoopsies! I’m so sorry, Velvet!”

Wait… I recognize that voice!

I went to the window and saw that Racist Receding, uhm, Harry, staring from the window of the room opposite mine. Good mother of pearls. It’s way too early for an encounter with him.

Glaring back at him, I hissed, “What the fuck?”

His face scrunched (read: still not bang-able). Then he told me, “God, you look awful.”

I swear if it wasn’t too early for me to actually function as a living thing, I would have thrown him the nearest thing I could hold my hands on to. That would have been the lampshade.

“What the fuck are you doing there?”

He frowned and then told me. “I live here! We’re actual neighbors! Didn’t Dr. Ferrol tell you about that?”

Is this some kind of joke? “Are you funning me?”

“I might switch rooms though. You’re not such a delight to see every morning. Your cousin is. Especially when she forgets her window’s open and changes her clothes right before my eyes.”

“Fucking pervert.” I whispered to myself.

Then my eyes drifted into the right corner of his room.

There was a telescope.

“I guess you like stargazing.” I commented, actually mocked him because I already have the hunch it wasn’t for the purpose of stargazing.

“Oh, this little thing?” Harry brought the telescope next to him and showed it to me. “Yeah, it’s for looking at stars. But this one is special. It’s for one star in particular.” Harry grinned and added, “Do you know Andrea’s got a naughty tattoo just right under her left side breast –”

“You fucking pervert!” I shrieked as I slammed the window shut and closed the curtains.

I stormed out of the room, already pissed at such an early hour and went straight to look for Michelle. But instead, I found Andrea in the dining area already eating her breakfast.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

I stared at Andrea as she poured milk in her bowl of cereal. I can’t even blame Harry for wanting to ogle on her every waking morning (read: and night). She’s so kawaii cute in a tiny baby pink boxer shorts and black tank top. Her long black curtain hair isn’t even messed unlike mine which is just all over the place like I’ve been into a bitch brawl. She’s so cute I felt like puking. Why am I not cute?!

“God, you look terrible. You could use a comb.”

“When did you get a tattoo?”

“Tattoo? What tattoo?” she asked. Oh great, she could pass an actress as well.

“That naughty tattoo right under your left side breast.”

Andrea stopped mid-chew and looked back at me like I killed someone.

“Is that one of the few things you’d want me to record so I won’t forget? Yeah, that’ll help me remember so I could mention it sometime to Uncle and Auntie-”

Andrea shot up and ran to the window in the sink, and then screamed at the top of her lungs. “Harry Edward Styles! Show yourself or say goodbye to your balls!”

Racist Receding Hairline didn’t show up (read: he didn’t want to get his balls castrated) but there were knocks in our front door.

Andrea immediately ran to the front door, cursing Harry Styles’ name all the way.

But it wasn’t the curly haired boy waiting in our doorsteps.

“Liam!” Andrea greeted as she reached her hands and hugged him.

“Morning, love.” He greeted back as he kissed her on the cheek.

I stood there watching both of them. I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning and my stomach did all sorts of backflips ever possible.

“I’ve missed you in the party! Where did you go?”

I saw Beckham 2.0 smirked at her. “It’s a long story, Andrea.” he said.

“Well, come have breakfast with us so you can tell me all about the lucky one that rode the Payne train, yeah?” Andrea laughed.

And then they both caught me awkwardly standing there.

“Oh, Liam, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Velvet.”

Beckham 2.0 looked at me and again the butterflies just turned into large moths that romped around my stomach.

“Hi, Velvet.” he smiled back at me. He said Velvet. My name. Oh, my god. He said my name. He remembered my name. I swear I felt like melting on the spot.

“Hey…you…” I said, barely out of breath.

“You two know each other?” Andrea asked curiously.

“Yeah, we’ve met each other at the anniversary party.” Beckham look-a-like answered.

Andrea quickly got the point. She looked at Liam and then said, “It was Velvet? Really?”

And then she turned to me. “You rode the Payne train?”

Yet, she wasn’t finished. “You two fucked?”

I glared back at her and hissed, “You could honestly use a lesson in being discreet, young lady.”

As Andrea stood in disbelief on the side, Beckham 2.0 went towards me. “I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye yesterday, and I really am sorry for that. I’m not that kind of guy who just ditches a girl, believe me. I had fun talking with you. You’re fun to be with and I enjoyed your company, really. When I woke up, the first thing I did was to look for you but you weren’t there beside me and that made me sad because I really liked it with you lying next to me.”



I didn’t really know what to say. I couldn’t find anything better than words to describe what’s stirring in the bottom of my stomach, to actually describe him. I just stood there right in front of him and stared at him like I’m sort of dumb. Well, kind of.

But the thing is, this beautiful creature standing right in front of me is saying he looked for me when he woke up and it saddened him to find out that I wasn’t there lying beside him.

So that must mean that I wasn’t just a one night stand. It wasn’t just sex for the night. I wasn’t just the whore he found that could suck his dick. I was a girl he wanted to cuddle with. Oh, my god. I felt like something was just lifted from my own chest.

And I made him happy. He said so himself that he had fun when we were together. For the first time, someone just said my presence made him happy.

“Oh, and I’m sorry for the dress I ruined. I got you a replacement so you could forgive me for what I’ve done.”

He handed me a white paper bag where the exact same replica of little black dress he ruined on that night lays. He’s basically giving me something to remember him from.

He’s done something exceptional, and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing to me but he’s done it. He just made my heart burst into tiny heart pieces. What is happening to me?!

“Erm, yeah, I just came here to see you and give this to you. So…” I saw the blush creeping in his face. Mine’s already flushing hot and it was no doubt I’m as red as a tomato.

I just made a guy blush. I made a guy from One Direction blush. David Beckham 2.0 is blushing because of me.

“You wouldn’t mind me calling you sometime?”

“No… not at all.” I said. Without stuttering.

This is not freaking happening.

“Good, because I’d still do it even if you say you don’t want me to.” Oh, so he’s a proud little fucker. I already like him. “And I know where you live so it’ll be easier to find you.” He smiled. I gushed. Fuck me sideways. This is so not happening. “I’ll call you sometime, yeah? Goodbye, Velvet.”

He leaned his face towards mine and before I knew it, his lips were pressed right to the side of my mouth. His lips were so close to my own, I swear I could taste something minty. Jesus H. Christ. Has good luck finally turned my way?

I heard Andrea gasped loudly. She’s taking this way too dramatically. Shouldn’t I be the one doing all the gushing shit because David Beckham 2.0 was kissing me?

It was only when he left that my still shocked younger cousin managed to speak out once again.

“You had sex with Liam.” Andrea said. “Velvet, you just had sex with Liam Payne.” Again, said incredulously and much louder this time, I bet even Harry heard it from his room.

I turned around and ignored Andrea’s follow-up questions. I went back to my room and took my recorder because I cannot forget this anymore. There was in no way I’m letting myself forget about this ever.

I brought my voice recorder close to my mouth and said, “I had sex for the very first time, and it was with that guy from One Direction.”

Guess I’ll be frying a lot of brain cells because I shouldn’t forget his name from now on.

“His name is Liam Payne.”

End of Record001
Time of Record: 9:10AM
Date of Record: September 17, 2015

-To Be Continued-

Notes

Hii.. I'm back. :)

-Andie