UTOPIA HIGH

Nostalgia I

In a big fancy house, George walked down the stairs looking really good. His hair was neat, and his clothes were cool. When he smirked, it felt like magic, and I couldn't help but fall for him right away.

My dad introduced me to Mr Hovers as George arrived. George's dad told him to behave since I'd be staying with them for a bit. George just smirked, brushed his hair back, and joked about when he's ever badly behaved.

Retreating to my room, the maids arranged my surroundings, but the distant sound of a splash drew me to the window. There, against the backdrop of a mesmerizing ocean and a flourishing garden, George emerged, shirtless, a vision of masculine allure. His every movement, from the cascade of water droplets to the confident stride, stirred within me an unfamiliar sensation.

Nightfall ushered in a family dinner, and as I descended in a pristine white dress, the ambiance shifted. All eyes converged upon me, but none as intensely as George's, fixed on my every step. His smile, a silent acknowledgment, spoke volumes, creating a connection that transcended the ordinary and promised an enchanting journey into the depths of the unexpected.

The opulent dining room echoed with the soft clink of cutlery against fine china as we sat around the table, savoring the delicacies spread before us. Mr. Hover, a man of distinguished demeanor, looked across the table at me with an inquisitive gleam in his eyes.

"So, Morgan," he began, his voice carrying a warmth that resonated through the room, "tell me about yourself, your aspirations, and what you do."

I glanced up from my plate, meeting Mr. Hover's gaze. "I manage my father's airline transports," I replied, a hint of enthusiasm in my voice. "But my true passion lies in becoming a risk and profit manager, essentially pursuing a career as an actuarist."

His eyes sparkled with interest, and a smile played on his lips. "An actuarist, now that's an intriguing choice. Planning for the future, managing risks—commendable. What inspired you to tread that path?"

As the conversation unfolded, Mr. Hover's curiosity delved into the intricacies of my career aspirations. The atmosphere was one of genuine interest, each word a brushstroke shaping the canvas of our interaction. Meanwhile, the three children at the table, Mr. Hover's pride and joy, listened intently, their expressions a mix of curiosity and admiration.

George, the eldest and the apple of his father's eye, leaned back in his chair with a casual charm, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding beyond his years. He observed the conversation with a subtle nod, appreciating the fusion of ambition and practicality in my career choice.

Mr. Hover's pride emanated as he turned to his children, gesturing toward me. "You see, children, Morgan here is charting her course in the business world. A future actuarist in the making."

George, seizing the moment, spoke up with a charismatic ease. "Impressive choice, Morgan. The world needs more people who understand the balance of risk and profit. Dad's always taught us the importance of knowledge and growth."

The younger siblings, a duo of lively energy, exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued. Mr. Hover beamed, emphasizing the significance of education and ambition in shaping the family legacy.

The room was kinda dark with a little light. Mrs. Hover, she wasn't much into talking during meals, so we just kept eating and chatting. After dinner, we all went back to our rooms.

I tried to sleep, but the place felt strange. The big house, new surroundings – it made sleep feel like a faraway thing. Then, out of the quiet, a knock on my door surprised me. It was George, wearing a fancy suit, looking all cool with one hand in his pocket.

He said, "I need to use your room." I asked why, and he explained that he uses this room  when he tries to sneak out. Apparently, he had a party to go to. I was a bit scared and asked if that's even allowed.

George just smirked and said, "I'm just passing through, and you'll turn a blind eye, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked in and headed to my balcony where there was metal stairs leading down. I stood there, kinda puzzled, as he disappeared into the night.

The next morning, my driver pulled up in my dark blue Range Rover to pick me up. Stepping out in a professional suit, I crossed paths with George, who was casually sipping coffee in the living room.

As I walked by, he looked up, noticing me from the distinct sound of my shoes. "Where are you off to, looking so gorgeous in that tight skirt of yours?" he remarked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

I replied, "This is an official suit by a designer. Why am I explaining myself to you anyway?" Continuing on my way, I heard him call out, "Well, let's go then."

I halted and firmly stated, "No, you can't come with me to work. I have a lot of papers to fill in." George just grinned and casually responded, "Yeah, I know. I asked your father, and he said I should give you company."

He approached me, standing close, looking directly into my eyes, and remarked, "Your eyes are like an ocean." With that, he sauntered away, heading outside, leaving me with a bewildered mix of flattery and confusion.

As we sat in the car, the plush interior cocooned us in luxury, and I was engrossed in studying the stock market on my tablet. Meanwhile, George remained still, gazing out of the window, his demeanor calm against the bustling cityscape that unfolded beyond the tinted glass.

Upon our arrival at my workplace, my assistant hurried towards me, delivering the news that George had rearranged my scheduleand his friends were waiting for a tour.

I rushed back to the car, opened the door, and found George still sitting there. He mentioned something about the car's sunroof being nice. Getting a bit mad, I asked, "Why did you mess with my schedule?" The view outside was busy with tall buildings, and my dad's airline company looked really big against the city backdrop.

I stormed into my office with George trailing beside me, his pace calm while I fumed with anger. Upon entering, I discovered his four friends seated in my space – one of them was Tynab, and the others were Derek, Maya, and Zayn. Since I didn't know them, I felt nervous about stepping into my office.

Feeling tense, George took my hand and gently pulled me inside.