The stolen heart

Chapter two - missing dinner.

The stolen heart.

Chapter two.

"Dyson?" I spluttered choking on my own saliva "Like the vacuum company?"

He sighed as if he's used to this on a regular basis "No" he spat, which he obviously wished would have an affect on me but to no avail. "Dyson, as in the dazzlingly hot boy standing in front of you"

I looked around teasingly smirking "Where? I don't see him. All I see the human vacuum cleaner!" I immaturely laughed at my own joke "Zroom Zroom; I'm Dyson the human vacuum! Hey that rhymes! I think" I teased wiggling around like a little boy pretending to be a power ranger.

I never truly understood the extent of their powers. Like they were ninjas and everything but is that it? I barely remember much from watching it distastefully with my older brothers as I wasn't allowed to watch tv alone for fear that I would switch to a bad channel by mistake. Rather than watching obediently I would kick up a fuss and ruin their time until they were forced to let me watch what I want. I can say much has changed since then regarding getting my own way.

Dyson grabbed my shoulders and held then in place stopping me from taking the mickey and being stupid any further. Honestly I had completely forgotten about Mr. Sexy vaccumn and was having a rather tantalising conversation with myself about power rangers and my brothers.

He grabbed my wrists and held me in place with a stern look on his face. "Don't do that it's highly annoying." He had a middleclass ring to his accent but I believed he was only speaking that way for he was in the presence of a rich girl because he dropped the 't' at the end of some of his words and then seemed as if he remembered to add them again half way through his sentences. His sentences would also start more formal and gradually the pronouciation got more lazy as the sentence progressed. I, myself, spoke significantly posh-er than most people because of my parents who spoke as if they were related to the queen. Once my mother wanted to do a DNA test and create an 'Ancestry.com' account but the family persuaded her that being 103rd to the throne didn't matter. I often practiced speaking less like I had marbles in my mouth and more like a normal human being because a mon avi the posh and overly pronounced way of speaking made me want to stab myself.

"Don't do that it's highly annoying" I mocked in what I thought was a rather impressive male voice.

He growled trying to be fearsome, I wrinkled my nose in defiance trying to be cute. I could see a slight sparkle in his eyes and a wobble on his mouth as he battled to look as serious as possible. He let go of my wrists and put his hands in his pockets; casually swinging on the balls of his feet as he gave a look that I could only think of as one of a perplexed man.  I sobered up and lazily smiled at him raising an eyebrow, casually resting a hand on my hip as I gave him time to figure me out. After a while he stood still and stared at me in silence. Ever so slowly his face became more relaxed and he shifted his weight breaking our eye contact for a second and connected with my eyes once more. He chuckled to him self slightly as I silently watched him still with my small smile. He stepped a little closer to me with a swift swing as if he were dancing.

"You're a mystery, Miss Pleasley." He gave me his unbreaking eye contact.

"And you're transparent as glass, Mr Meyers." I foolishly retorted and he smirked at this.

"You'd be surprised, baby girl." My heart felt funny and for a second but blamed it on my illness.

Rolling my eyes, I changed the subject for fear for my health. "So, why were you wondering through the hallways of Kings Royal hospital at seven o'clock at night?"

"My mum lets me volunteer in the children ward because she's a doctor there. On the transplant ward, you know Dr. Meyers?"

"Yeah, the stiff one," I cringed adding a measly, "No offence."