Chapter 2

As I stepped onto the plane, my heart pounded with a mix of excitement and fear. I had never flown before. Everything I knew about flying came from other people’s stories, some filled with wonder, others with turbulence.

As the plane began to move, I gripped the armrests tightly. The engines roared beneath us, a deep rumble that vibrated through my chest. Then, in one smooth motion, the ground fell away. My stomach lurched as gravity released its grip, and for a heartbeat, I felt weightless.

Through the window, the world below shrank into a patchwork of tiny streets and roofs. The clouds looked impossibly close, soft and pure, like tufts of cotton floating in a sea of light. The sun blazed above them, painting everything in gold.

When the plane finally leveled off, I exhaled and let out a small, nervous laugh. “Had to take this long to fly in one of you, huh?” I muttered under my breath, brushing my fingertips against the window. The man seated beside me gave me a look and muttered, “Les villageois.” I ignored him and grinned to myself.

A flight attendant came down the aisle, her red lipstick bright against her smile. “Juice or water?” she asked.

“Juice, please,” I said, grateful for the distraction and the normalcy of her voice.

Hours passed. We landed once for a layover, then soared back into the sky again. I tried to close my eyes, to rest at least, but sleep wouldn’t come. My mind kept wandering, and my eyes, traitorous as ever, kept turning to the window, drinking in the endless blue horizon.

When the plane began its final descent, my heartbeat quickened for the third time that day. Pressure built in my ears; I swallowed hard, trying to ease it. Then, with a soft jolt, we touched down. Relief rushed through me, and I realized I’d been holding my breath the whole time.

Stepping off the plane, I was struck by that same dual sensation, excitement and fear, but this time, it was deeper. I was on another continent, far from home, far from everything familiar.

I followed the crowd toward baggage claim, pausing to take in the grand expanse of the airport. Curved steel and glass arched high above me, sleek and modern, catching the glow of the afternoon sun. The air smelled of coffee, pastries, and new beginnings.

Outside, I spotted a man holding a placard with my name written in bold letters.

“Hello,” I greeted, smiling as I approached.

“Miss Kee-uh… Ash Ah-fake-ehz?” he struggled, squinting at the card.

I laughed softly. “Kie Ash Afaikez.”

“Oh! My apologies,” he said, grinning.

“It’s fine,” I assured him.

We loaded my luggage into his car and drove off into the city. The world outside my window blurred into motion: tall buildings, flickering billboards, people rushing across busy crosswalks. As we moved farther out, the scenery softened. Neat houses gave way to open fields, winding roads, and the gentle sprawl of the countryside.

The late afternoon light danced across the hills, and when we crossed the River Thames, I pressed my face to the glass. The water shimmered under the bridge like liquid silver.

After more than an hour, we finally reached my residence. The driver helped unload my things.

“Have a nice stay in Wyvern, ma’am,” he said with a polite smile before driving off.

Because I’d started looking for accommodation late, I’d been placed temporarily, and I needed to call the house manager to meet me. When she arrived, a light-skinned woman in her early thirties, she smiled warmly.

“Sorry for making you wait outside,” she said.

“Miss Monette?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s fine,” I assured her. “You didn’t keep me long.”

Inside, the waiting area was cozy, with soft lighting and a faint scent of lavender polish. She started up the stairs but paused when she noticed my heavy luggage.

“I don’t trust these elevators much,” she said, “but with all that, you’ll never make it up three flights.”

I laughed. “Thank you.”

We rode up, and she turned to me as we neared the last door. “Your roommate’s already in. Did he contact you?”

“He?” I blinked.

She stopped, looking slightly uneasy. “I hope that’s not a problem. You did check the box saying you didn’t mind sharing with any gender.”

I froze. I had filled that section without much thought, desperate to secure a spot.

“I didn’t think it really mattered,” I admitted.

She sighed. “That’s why they say think before you check the box.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, dear. It can be temporary anyway. I can get a new space for you, in maybe a week, maybe a month. Depends on when a new space opens.”

“A month?”

“Possibly more.”

We reached the room. It wasn’t bad at all, a modest living space with two sofas, a small dining table, and warm wooden floors.

“You’ll be fine here,” Miss Monette said kindly, handing me the keys. “Call me if anything comes up.” Then she left.

I rolled my suitcase into my room and stopped, pleasantly surprised. The space was wide, the bed almost queen-sized, the air faintly scented with fresh linen. I swapped the white sheets for my own, unpacked, and exhaled.

The bathroom was small but spotless, with a shower and a mirrored cabinet. I turned on the tap and stepped under the cold water. It hit me like a shock, refreshing, grounding, exactly what I needed after the long day. When I finally lay down, the exhaustion caught up with me, and I drifted into sleep almost instantly.

***

A sound woke me hours later. My body felt heavy, my mind foggy. I blinked at the time, 1:00 a.m. Eight hours of sleep. That seldom happened.

I heard voices, two of them, low and male, from the living area. My roommate, probably. I got out of bed, slipped into something decent, and cracked my door open.

In the dim light, two guys sat on the couch, completely absorbed in a video game. Their faces flickered with the glow of the screen, laughter spilling between rounds.

“Hi,” I said softly, then again, louder. Nothing. I sighed and noticed headsets covered their ears; reason why they didn’t notice me.

I turned to head back when I stumbled into someone.

“Oh my…” I started, but my words died in my throat.

“Are you okay?” he asked, steadying me by the arms.

I nodded, my pulse racing. “I’m fine. You startled me.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, stepping back. “I’m Damian, by the way.”

“Ash,” I replied.

He smiled. “Okay, Ash. Are you here with Oliver or Jack?”

“I live here,” I said, still catching my breath. “Temporarily, anyway.”

His laugh was warm, low. “Then you’re my roommate.”

“Temporary roommate,” I corrected, smiling despite myself.

“Well then,” he said, his grin widening, “welcome to Britonia.”

He turned to join his friends, and I watched him walk away, my mind spinning. Tattoos snaked down his arms, faint and mysterious in the half-light.

“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself. “He’s hot.”

And somehow, I knew right then, my stay here was going to be interesting. 

I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, heart still hammering. Damian. His name repeated in my head like a soft echo, bouncing off the walls of my newly claimed room. There was something about him, his laugh, that easy confidence, the faint curl of a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes but made them brighter somehow. I couldn’t stop picturing the way he moved, how his presence seemed to occupy the space effortlessly, like he belonged everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

I dropped to the bed and sank onto the edge, hands tugging at my hair in disbelief. Why did my pulse spike so fast just from a glance? I’d known boys before, sure, but this was different. My chest felt tight, a mix of anticipation and that nervous flutter I always tried to push down but couldn’t. Why was this happening? Was it just because of proximity? 

I tried to shake it off. He was just a roommate. Just someone I’d be sharing this space with temporarily. But the truth clung stubbornly, like the scent of his shampoo or the faint hint of musk I imagined clinging to his skin. Every detail of that first encounter, the way he had stood there, so casual yet so aware, the ease of his voice, kept replaying in my mind like a film I couldn’t pause.

“Kie Ash Afaikez,” I thought to myself, “Get a grip on yourself. You don’t know this person, and he cannot affect you this way. Think of your studies and think of Will.” I thought of the last part and then remembered we were broken up.