The next day, I spend the first half of my day, on my Macbook- the usual. I decide to Google Brooklyn, because if he thinks it’s okay to practically stalk me, I’m allowed to do the same.
After typing in Brooklyn Beckham, a ton of articles about him and his family pop up. I scroll through a few, and they all say how he’s a ‘nice lad and is very polite’.
Are you kidding me?
I do think he’s really polite to people in general, and is overall a nice guy; but just not to me. I have no idea why, though. It might be his way of flirting; but first of all, why would anyone want to flirt with me, and second of all, I have close-to-zero boy experience, so it’s probably not flirting.
The world may never know. Or at least, I will never know.
I finally get out of bed, dressing into another floral top and denim shorts. (outfit on the side) Deciding to change up my routine, I grab my pennyboard and my leather backpack, instead of my purse.
Slipping on my new white converse, I walk out the door, having no idea of what I’m going to do for the second half of the day.
The shopping center is empty, considering it’s a Monday, and people have work. So, I don’t really want to go there. I guess I’ll just go find a nice place to just sit and draw in my unused sketchbook.
I skateboard near a huge school, and sit down on the concrete steps of the entrance. I begin to sketch a bunch of random doodles with an ink pen I pulled out of my backpack.
Time has passed, and I’ve probably been here for an hour now. I'd get going, but I’m in a comfortable position and there’s no rush, so I continue to keep doing what I’m doing.
Suddenly, I hear a bell.
A school bell?
A ton of students that look like high-schoolers, or I guess would be called secondary school students, here in England, rush out of the building I’ve been sitting by.
A group of girls come up to me. “What are you doing here?” one of them asks with a strong accent. I don’t know, but this girl seems a little snobby.
“Um, I was just chilling; I didn’t know there was still school going on.” I reply, not really knowing what to say.
“Oh my God, she’s American!” one of them shrieks.
“I love your accent!”
“Are you going to be attending school here?”
“You do know that that outfit is definitely not allowed at schools here, right?”
"What are American boys like?”
“Are your boobs real?”
What the hell? I’m being interrogated, and it’s making me quite uncomfortable. Now that they shouted out that there’s an American girl here, a bunch of boys come join us.
Answering all the questions I was bombarded with, I tell them, “No, I’m not going to school here. Yes, I know you have to wear uniforms here, but this outfit is allowed in schools in America. American boys are… interesting. And yes, my boobs are real, what kind of question is that?”
A few of the boys whistle, at that last answer. I roll my eyes, while getting up on my way to leave.
“Liv? What are you doing here?” Brooklyn pushes through the crowd, which has grown even bigger.
Of course, he goes to school here, just of course.
He probably legit thinks I'm stalking him, now.
