Questions (Julian Jordan Fanfiction)

1

"Are you fucking kidding me? This was my cab! I called it before you did," I protest at the man with a phone pressed to his ear.

He doesn't listen to me and jumps in anyway. I watch as the cab speeds off and groan in frustration, cussing in Dutch. I've only been here for two hours and New York is proving to intimidate me just as my mother swore it would.

God, I can't bear to think of her.

I check my watch. I got an email thirty minutes ago saying that the apartment I'd be sharing with someone was ready for me to move in. All I have to do is get there. I sincerely hope whoever this person is, owns furniture because if she doesn't, we're screwed.

It takes me another fifteen minutes to get a cab and eventually pull to a stop in front of a dingy looking apartment building downtown. It's not fancy but that's expected. Fancy isn't something I can afford. I pay the driver and worriedly look at my diminishing amount of cash. I need to get a job and fast.

I pull out the key that was posted to me back home and it takes me a few tries to twist it in the rusting, sticky gate. I pry it open and head up the stairs. I notice the walls are covered in cracked paint and scribbles of swear words and various body parts.

My apartment is number seventeen. When I reach it, the door is already open and I can hear shuffling inside. I peak in slowly, making my way inside. I pass the small kitchen and enter the tiny living room.

I stare in shock at the obvious boy sifting through a suitcase. I thought it would be a girl.

"Uh. Hi," I stammer.

The boy turns around quickly. His eyes widen.

"I thought you would be a guy."

There are two things I notice in succession - the first, his blue eyes and second, his accent.

"Are you Dutch?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Yes."

"This is really fucking strange."

"What are the odds?" I say, fiddling with my keys as he looks around at the empty room.

"If this were a novel, it would be extremely predictable," he notes, twiddling his thumbs.

I raise my eyebrows, confused. "How so?"

"Two people in America, both Dutch, coincidentally both of these attractive people of the opposite sex are living in the same apartment. You tell me the rest of the story," he looks at me with knowing eyes, lifting his shoulders.

"They fall in madly love and have sex on every surface," I finish for him.

For a moment he stares at me before bursting into laughter.

"Spot on," he winks, "Do you think that's where this will go?"

I cock my head at him, taking in his strong features. Chiseled jaw line, wavy brown hair and those piercing blue eyes.

"Definitely not."

He nods, a small smile on his face. "We don't have furniture."

"That is very, very apparent."

"Are you broke? Because I am," he says with a grin on his face as if he just inherited a million dollars. The irony.

I stare at him. "I am too, but I'm not very happy about it."

"Where's your suitcase?" he asks suddenly, glancing behind me.

I turn around, instinctively reaching for the handle that I usually grab. Instead my hand grasps at air. I jerk around, gasping. My heart starts skipping beats.