The Materialists | Book 1 + 2 ✔

01 | Gold Digger

. I wanna get away from here .

. It really hasn't .

. been my year .

❀---------------❀

BEFORE I MOVED TO LONDON, I lived in New York. I was surrounded by desperate rich boys with desperate motives that led to desperate actions. Boys that would chase after me, sending thousands of dollars worth of designer gifts I never needed just for a night in bed that they never received. 

A bulk of my closet has been purchased by those stupid New York boys with new money. Boys are caught up in the idea of being able to afford useless accessories. How silly of them to think they could buy me. My heart, my body, my time.

When my parents and I moved to London, I was more than pleased to accept their offer of living in a classy apartment closer to the school. Rather than staying in their house 1 hour away.

They didn't show much emotion when dropping me off, just gave my forehead a kiss and a little wave as they left me with mountains of suitcases full of shit to be moved into the apartment. 

My servant, someone with an Irish accent so thick it's hard to understand him, collectively moved the suitcases up into the elevator with the help of the doorman. Surveying my surroundings, I took a seat on a green velvet couch. 

The lobby was nice and uncomplicated. My parents said I didn't need anything fancy -- or what millionaires consider fancy -- as it was just temporary living until I go to university in 2 years where I planned on returning to America. 

So the two bed one bath was just a tad bit smaller than what would've been my bedroom at home. 

The white walls of the lobby stretched up to the ceiling at least 20 feet, allowing an excessively expensive chandelier to hang down. Its crystal glasses reflect the light all around the lobby, casting beautiful gleams of light that cut everything into lines. It only took 10 minutes to transport all of my suitcases, considering a good portion of the furniture was already moved in and ready. 

Mother and Father hired an interior designer a week ago and the preparation was quick and efficient. What was left in the suitcases were the rest of my clothes, shoes, accessories, and little random objects I didn't want to leave behind. And of course, my supply of school materials, which wasn't much. A notebook, one binder, a pencil case, and a laptop.

School hadn't started yet, but it would in two days. Tuesday, more specifically. I thanked my servant who only comes in during school hours to check on the apartment, and occasionally clean if anything is dirty. 

But I usually find myself cleaning any messes up before he gets the chance. I also have a cook, a new one. Our family's old chef, Mrs. Melerie was offered to come work for my family in London but wanted to stay back in New York with her family. 

Although a huge yearly check went down the drain, I probably would've stayed if I had a sufficient family growing up there too. So now I had a new one, who came in on Sunday to prepare dinners for the week.

I slid my keycard into the lock and listened as it clicked open. The last time I had been here was a week prior to meet the interior designer. He had only shown me pictures of the final product, and I was beyond excited to see it in person. The theme colors of the apartment were white, gray, and red, my signature colors. 

The layout of the apartment was simple. A hallway with a minuscular office connected to it opened up into the kitchen and living room. With enormous full-length windows that spread out across the city. There were 2 doors in the main section of the apartment. One led to a big bathroom with modern appliances, while the other opened up into a gorgeous bedroom with a big bed. 

The bedroom also had a walk-in closet doorframe with no proper door. Instead, a red curtain separated the space. My suitcases were stacked inside the closet, waiting to be folded and replaced -- something that was going to take me ages to do.

All in all, it was amazing. Simple, modern, comfortable, just as I wanted. In a hurry to get situated, I collapsed onto the couch. Jetlag suddenly hit me like a brick, I kicked off my heels and clicked on the TV to Netflix. 

I hadn't fully processed I was actually living on my own right now. I almost had complete freedom. I pulled out my phone which had been dinging nonstop for almost 2 hours straight. Looking at the screen, I suddenly wanted to pull all my hair out.

I leave the entire fucking country and he still won't leave me alone? 

Getting up from the couch, I walked across the room, trying to hold in my anger. When I left New York, I didn't exactly tell everyone until the day of the move. Which left a lot of untied business and confused friends trying to contact me. Although I did somewhat miss living in New York, as it was my home after all, I was more than happy to get a fresh start. I needed it at the time, and this was my chance to start over. For now.

Annoyed by another notification that covered my screen, I flung my phone onto the couch cushions, so I could throw it and still prevent it from cracking. I repeatedly did that for 2 more minutes, before putting it on airplane mode and screaming my head off.

Honestly, at this point in my life, I can truthfully and honestly say, FML.

AUTHOR NOTE

This chapter honestly sucked, but I just wanted to give a bit of background before I hope straight into the good stuff. If you have any questions about my God awful writing style, please comment them!

.

Hello everyone! It's currently 2023 Kujiis.

After 4 YEARS. Yes. 4 FREAKING YEARS, I return to finally edit this book! So everyone rereading - you will notice some changes. If you aren't rereading... I hope you simply enjoy the book and the terrible writing style of little Kujiis :)