Resistance is Futile.

Resistance is Futile. 1

Resistance is Futile.

Lacey is a university student whose just moved to London with best friend Tammy. They're shacked up in a pokey flat with the boyish Jack and the possibly gay Andrew. On a drunken night out Lacey meets George and ends up in his bed the next morning, naked. She can't remember anything that happened and sets out to find the truth -the big question being whether or not she lost her virginity to this stranger. But, George seems intent on making things difficult for her. She battles with embarrassing situations, unknown emotions and George's roommates before finally finding the truth. She'd always thought that as soon as he told her that'd be it, she'd never see him again. But now that's the case can she resist his cocky charm and softer side? Or will her stubborn nature stand in the way of true love?

Chapter 1. The Monster on the Mattress.

My head was thumping, it felt as though I'd woken up at six in the morning and the builders next door were drilling a hole in the stubborn cement. With an unladylike groan I tried to wrench open my mascara smudged eyes, and failed. Each time I'd manage to open them a little and then the sun would shine through and that'd be it, they'd slam shut and all my hard work would be for nothing. Finally, after many fruitless attempts, my eyes opened- though I have to admit they were still rather squinty in a poor attempt to avoid any straying sunlight that might come their way. I then pushed back the dark hair that fell messily around my face and sat up. This is when everything started to go wrong- or at least when I realised how terribly bad things were.

As I sat up the dark blue -and unfamiliar- duvet that had previously been protecting my modesty, need I say more, fell. My squinty eyes burst open- now seeming not to care about the blinding morning sun, well I suppose the current situation was a little more worrying. And that's when I really truly discovered that I was naked. Naked. Well when it sunk in at least.

Apparently my brain wasn't quite awake yet and so I jumped up, leaving the duvet behind. Still duvet less I got a good look around the room in which this dark blue modesty revealing duvet dwelled. To say it was untidy or messy would be an understatement. The place was such a tip that for a moment I thought I was in a landfill site, only the cream coloured carpet poking through it's layer of clothes steered me away from that assumption. I continued my assault of the room, noticing that the greeny yellow, I think it used to be close to white, wallpaper was peeling. Especially in the mould infested corners. The only decent piece of furniture was a wooden wardrobe, however, even that was in a sorry state; with one door hanging off it's hinges and clothes spilling out of the bottom shelves.

It was then that I decided to return my attention to the duvet. I noticed that the thing I'd been sleeping on wasn't even a bed, it was a mattress. A stained mattress- without even a bed cover i.e. disgusting. But that wasn't what made my throat close up and my hands turn clammy. No, the thing that did that was the man half concealed by the dark blue duvet.

Two hairy legs peeked out as well as an arm hanging over the mattress and draped on the floor. I could also see a head of messy dark brown hair, cut short, and a pair of broad shoulders. And Dear God was that the start of a tattoo. Although I could hear his heavy breathing I stupidly seemed to forget that this man could awake at any moment. And so, still naked, I leant over and began to pull away the duvet to get a better look at his tattoo.

This was the biggest mistake of my life. My fingers brushed his back as I was pulling away the dark blue duvet, unleashing a moan from the monster on the mattress. Screaming I jumped backwards, tripped over some unknown object and fell, I landed with a harsh thud on my poor bottom. Crap. I closed my eyes and began muttering- please don't let him be awake- repeatedly.

"Bit late for that isn't it?" I opened one eye to see a man with messy dark brown hair and a cheeky grin standing over me. Oh, and he was one hundred percent stark naked. I tried to overlook the Scottish or Irish, personally I can't tell the difference they're both unbelievably sexy, accent, but failed and instead just blushed like a silly little high school girl who'd never met a boy before. The only good thing about the situation was that so far I'd managed to keep my eyes from straying to his nether regions. I finally managed to cough out something similar to a laugh in reply, although it sounded more like a dog choking, and tried to smile- which ended up looking like a Jokeresque grimace.