C2.

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Song of the chapter Video Games by Lana Del Rey

I decide to go with a simple outfit for my first day of work. Not that I would under much pressure for looking professional, since it's a vintage record store that has the usual 4 customers per day.

I wear a red sweater with black jeans and boots and curl my blonde hair into soft waves.

I grab my coffee and start walking to the shop and think I'm lucky enough to be starting at 9:00am considering I'm still on Australian time which is..... 12:00am in the morning right now.

The cold breeze blows right through me as I walk down the busy main streets of London, colliding with multiple pedestrians as I pass through.

My mind begins to wonder of how I literally don't know anyone here. Except Morrissey, my real estate agent, and I guess you could my neighbour Joel and Hero. Which they both don't know my name.

I guess I better work on that. I'm not sure how I feel about befriending some strange boy that rocks up on my doorstep.

Morrissey greets me at work with a nod. Short and fast.

"Vinyls need to be here" he points to the left.

"Books need to be here" he points to the right. He then turns to the back of the shop and starts stamping books. I guess I have my instructions. I start to work on what I've been told and put on one of my favourite albums by Lana Del Rey on vinyl and before I know it I'm head deep in my stacking shelves and singing lyrics quietly.

"We're just beautiful people with beautiful problems" I sing under my breath.

"Born to die has to be the better album" A voice says from behind me. I drop a book on my foot in shock.

"Shit!" I yelp.

I turn to see Hero standing behind me how long I don't know. He's now standing there laughing at me and my clumsy behaviour.

"Oh it's you" I say, sounding more displeased then I intended.

"Not happy to see me?" He questions and furrows his eyebrows together in sarcasm.

"Not sure how I feel. Are you following me?" I say as I twist my head and body to fully face his tall figure.

"Don't flatter yourself, this happens to be my usual stop offs after leaving Joel's house." He says in bitter charm.

"Ha ha" I say while turning around to pick up the large book I bruised my toes with.

"So what's an Australian doing in London?" He says following me around the shelves attempting to pull me into conversation.

"Looking for an adventure" I say and smile at him. There's no possibility I'd tell the real story. We'd be here all night.

He grins in response. Those beautiful dimples popping through his cheeks.

"If you're looking for an adventure, I could help you find one" he says following it with a wink.

Oh boy, I am not falling for this.

"I'm quite okay" I say gesturing my hands around the shop

"Just here".

"Well if you change your mind, I know where to find you" He says as he walks around with a grin.

I take a deep breath as a watch him walk away.

~

As I get in the door of my apartment the familiar aching feeling in my legs starts as I realise I've been on my feet for 8 hours since work started.

I decide that this is a good time to call my Mother back since she's been texting me since I got off the plane.

"Maya? Oh I've so glad to hear you're there okay! How is work? You have found work haven't you? Is the apartment okay? Are you eating?-" she rambles.

"Its all okay I'm okay I wanted to call you and update you-" I'm cut off by the loud speaker music coming from next door. Sounds like heavy metal and that didn't do too well through the paper thin walls of the apartment.

"Shit uh-I mean shoot. Sorry mum the neighbours are being really loud I will call you back okay?" I plead with her, since she's not easy to get off the phone.

"Okay love you Maya" she says with ease.

I hang up and grab my coat and walk out the front of the apartment and walk next door.

I bang on the large door that seems to be bigger than my apartment. No answer over the loud music, surprisingly.

I bang again louder and harder. To my surprise a familiar face opens the door.

"Guess I didn't have to find you after all. Here for a little adventure?".

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