Afraid of the New. (An Amazingphil Fan Fiction)

Chapter Two: Broken Key

Justine’s P.O.V.

Layla and I race into the building. I feel my heart beating quickly, I’m extremely excited. I just can’t believe this is happening! After four years of planning and budgeting. After one year of packing and getting ready. After all this time it’s finally happening. Layla and I are in England, in our new building, and soon we’ll be in our very own apartment. I cannot wait. Layla is standing in the middle of the lobby looking around, her eyes are full of wonder and fascination. I know, even though she tends to avoid situations in which she’ll have to meet new people, she is super excited about this. 

We drag our bags over to the elevator or “lift” as they call it here, then we board the elevator. Layla presses the button and up we go. Once we’re at our floor the doors open, we step off the elevator. I feel kind of tired, I wonder what time it is back in the USA. I walk in front of Layla and we find our apartment. Once we see our number we stop. I put down my stuff and dig around in my purse looking for the key we recently received. I find it and stick it in the door. I turn the key, and it breaks. It fuckin’ breaks. I just stand there, staring at the key hole. The key hole with the bottom half of my key in it. I have no words. 

“Justine, what’s wrong?” Layla asks.

“The key. It broke,” I say, I turn in face Layla. Her eyes grow wide, really wide. For a few seconds, she just stands there and stares at me. Then she yells.

“WELL DO SOMETHING!” 

“Ow,” I say, raising my hands to my ears, “No need to yell.”

“Ow, no need to yell,” she says in a fake high-pitched voice trying to mimic me. Failing at mimicking me. 

“Shut up!” I say, “We need to do something.”

“No shit, sherlock,” Layla rolls her eyes at me. I sigh, aggravated at Layla’s new poor attitude. 

“Why don’t you go down stairs to the lobby and see if you can find a phone book then we can call a locksmith or whatever they have here,” I say. Layla groans and trudges downstairs. I take a seat on beside our pile of stuff and let out a long loud sigh. I hear a door open, I turn my head to the right. The door on the right side of our apartment door has been opened and a young man with dark brown hair and brown eyes is looking at me. I look back up at him, “Hello, Mr. Hottie.” He laughs at my attempt at flirting. I’m not good at flirting. 

“What the hell are you doing?” the young man asks me. 

“Sitting,” I respond, “Waiting for my friend. You see, we just got here and this is our new apartment. I turned the key in the lock and it broke. My friend is off to find a phone book in the lobby so we can call someone to come fix it.”

“Well, your friend is going to have a hard time finding a phone book down there. I’m almost 100% sure there isn’t nor has there ever been a phone book in the lobby,” the young man says, “Why don’t you come into my flat and you can use our phone book, and our phone if you need too.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, “But I should go tell my friend so she doesn’t spend the whole day down there looking for a stupid phone book.”

“Ok,” the young man says, about to re-enter his apartment.

“Wait!” I say, “What’s your name? You know, so I don’t have to call you Mr. Hottie for the rest of the time being.”

“While I do enjoy the nickname you gave me,” he says, “My name is Dan.” 

“Nice to meet you Dan, I’m Justine,” I say, “And I gotta go get my friend.” I walk over to the elevator, and go back down to the lobby. As soon as the elevator door opens, I see Layla walking towards me. 

“I couldn’t find one,” she says, shrugging.

“It’s okay, I got this,” I say. As we go back up in the elevator I explain our situation to Layla. She nods. The elevator doors open, I step out. Layla steps out too, but hers doesn’t really go to smoothly. She trips and falls face-first to the floor. A tall man with black hair and blue eyes runs over to help her up.

Layla’s P.O.V.

The elevator doors open, I try to step out but fail on a whole new level. I trip on one of my shoe laces, apparently my shoes were untied. I fall, and ram my face right into the floor. “Ow,” I mumble, rubbing my aching forehead. Out of the corner of my eye, I see some guy walking quickly towards me. He looks down at me and holds out his hand. I grab it and he pulls me up off the floor.

“Are you okay?” he asks. I nod, I then see Justine standing with another guy. This other guy has brown hair. He and Justine appear to both be on the verge of laughing. The guy who helped me up turns around, “DAN!” he says, angrily, “Don’t laugh, she could’ve been seriously hurt!” This Dan guy then bursts out laughing, shortly followed by Justine. I swear these two guys look familiar, like I’ve seen them somewhere. But, where the hell would I have seen two attractive British guys at? I roll my eyes at the two laughing idiots.

“What were you two doing with our bags, anyway?” Justine turns to Dan.

“We were going on a mad panty raid,” Dan replies.

“Dan!” the black-haired guy exclaims, his face turns bright red, “We were not. We were just putting your bags in our flat, since you probably shouldn’t leave them in the hall.” Justine nods, she adjusts her purse on her shoulder. I quickly walk over to the bags and grab my stuff, which hasn’t been taken into their apartment yet. Dan grabs the rest of Justine’s items that remain in the hallway. The four of us enter their flat. We put our bags down. Dan takes a seat on the couch and the other guy walks over to their phone and grabs a book. He hands it to Justine, “Here’s the phone book.” Justine tanks him for it and begins searching through the numbers. 

“Hi, I’m Phil,” the black-haired guy says holding his hand out for me to shake, “And the rude one of there on the couch is Dan.”

“HEY!” Dan yells.

“‘I’m, uh, Layla,” I say quietly, “Justine and I, erm, just moved here from America.” Damn you, shyness! 

“I guessed that, after all you both have American accents,” Phil says.

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Justine yells, “IT’S RINGING!” Justine is on her cell phone, I guess she found a locksmith. 

I lower my voice to a whisper, “That’s my rude one over there, her name’s Justine.” Phil smiles, he takes a seat next to Dan and motions for me to join them. I take a seat on one of the chairs facing Dan and Phil. We all remain quiet while Justine is on the phone. I awkwardly take my phone out, no new messages and no missed calls. I am so glad everyone loves and misses me. I sigh. 

“Okay, thanks,” Justine says, “See you in twenty minutes.” Justine hangs up the phone. “Hey I hope you two lovely gentlemen don’t mind if we hang here for twenty minutes.”

“Not at all,” Phil says.