Written Movements

one

01 

"If Tom had learned anything... it was that you can't ascribe great cosmic significance to a simple earthly event. Coincidence, that's all anything ever is, nothing more than coincidence... Tom had finally learned, there are no miracles. There's no such thing as fate, nothing is meant to be. He knew, he was sure of it now." -500 Days of Summer

/ essie /

The credits rolled and so did my tears. Why does this always happen? I don't know what it is about this movie that gets me so emotional. Probably because I wanted Summer to end up with Tom. My toes were freezing, but the rest of my body was engulfed in that old duvet of mine. I pulled it up over my head and fiddled with the keys of my antique laptop. I really need a new one.

"Get your ass off that blemin' couch, Essie!" boomed my room mate, Scarlet. Her strawberry locks rested on the arm of the sofa as she began to throw items at me.

Scarlet. What a lovely name. I'm stuck with Estelle. Mum said it was an elegant and graceful name. Well, those traits aren't in the slightest related to me. I want a quirky name like Jamie or Ariel. Like my other to room mates. Jamie is exactly like her name. Quirky and witty, she is. I swear if those three weren't my room mates, I'd rename myself Jamie Ariel Scarlet Clark. 

Estelle Clark. I always liked the ring of my name. It was so simple but it was very unique. I like being a simpleton. It's like I'm one of Jane Austen's characters from one of her books. I'm no Miss Darcy, I'm like Lizzie, although she is very judgmental; I hate when people are impacted by first impressions, 'cause you never see the person for who they really are.

That's why Pride and Prejudice was such a long book and was six hours long in the TV series. It took Elizabeth so long to realise Mr Darcy wasn't a jerk. Because seriously, when did Colin Ferth ever play a bitchy Englishman?

Oh, I forgot.

Bridget Jones' Diary.

I'm awoken from my thoughts when Scarlet hits me with a book that was lying on the table, Pride and Prejudice.

How ironic.

I laugh at her petty attempts to pull me off the black leather couch.

"Meer mortal, thou shall never defeat me!" I mock her. She tosses her red hair back and laughs. She continues to pull at my leg and suddenly, I slide off the leather and on to the hard marble floor. Both of us are on the floor laughing when there's a knock on the door and we both brush ourselves off, still giggling.

"Have you invited someone over, Lady Scar?" I ask humorously. She shakes her head as I make my way down the corridor of our apartment and open the door.

My eyes meet with beautiful hazel eyes you only see in movies. And I've seen quite a lot of movies.

His light brown hair was swept up to the side of his face and his slim body was pressed against the door frame. I'm guessing he's about 6' 1 because damn, it feels like Goliath is standing over me.

A really sexy Goliath.

"H-hi, um," I take a deep breath as I look into his eyes like this is a soap opera, and take in his features. I swear, this sounds creepy, but his lips look like pillows. Okay, it doesn't sound creepy; it is creepy.

"Can I help you?" I finally manage.

"Yeah, I was wondering if you knew how I can contact the building's management. Me and my mate just moved into this apartment block, and there's something wrong with our apartment key." He says earnestly.

 I must have been staring for a while because his face is clueless when I come back to reality.

"Um, sure, hang on a minute."

I run through my apartment and crash right into Scar.

"Dude, there is a model standing in our doorway, asking for the manager's number. What do we do?" I ramble.

"Woah, woah, woah, slow down, so there is a model," Scarlet repeats, crossing her arms.

"Yes," I hiss, being the impatient bitch I am.

"And he wants the manager's number?" I nod.

"Is he gay?" She blurts.

"No- what the hell! I mean, I don't know, I just fucking met him! He needs the management number because of his bloody apartment key! There is an angel living next door!" I yell frustrated.

She covers my mouth and hisses, "Then you better shut up before he hears you, dumb ass!" 

I nod slowly, as she removes her hand.

"Just give him Bruce's number, Essie. But I'm just saying, the way you described him, he sounded gay."

I chuckle as I make my way down the hall to see the guy standing there, on his phone.

"How come you don't have his number?" I blurt as he looks up suddenly.

"Well, I didn't rent out the apartment. My mate did," he says, scratching the back of his head. "I'm just living with him for a while but he's out of the city for his sister's wedding. He gave me the spare key but it doesn't work. I just used his key for the past week until he could get another key. And now that I have a key, it doesn't work." He smiles at me warmly. "I'm Ed, if you wondering." 

He holds out his hand.

"Estelle, but I'd prefer you call me Essie. Estelle sounds too formal." I explain as I shake his hand.

"I think Estelle is a lovely name. I've never met anyone called Estelle," he grins.

"Well, I've never met anyone called Ed, either," I smile back.

We stare at each other for a few seconds until I pull out my phone.

"Uh, this is Bruce's number. He's the manager. He should be able to help you."

As he takes down the number into his phone, I stare at his prominent jaw line, his velvet-looking skin and his model-like features.

"So what do you do for a living?" I ask as he looks back up at me.

"Oh, I work at a book store." He replies, putting his phone away.

"Do you like to write?"

"Yeah, I'd say it's a hobby as well as reading."

"That's cool, I like writing, too. And reading." I awkwardly answer.

He chuckles, as we both stand facing each other.

"I'd better get going, it was nice meeting you," he says, shaking my hand again.

"You too. See ya 'round."

"I hope so," he says as he turns around, jogging away back to heaven.