The English Teacher


1. Chapter 1

I stare at the message on my iPhone.

Please don't leave me Elsie. It was

just a mistake.

I roll my eyes and instantly delete the message. Ah. John Cox. The man I was meant to marry! How could I be so stupid? How could he possibly think it was a mistake? It was a mistake that he fucked my best friend while I was getting ready for my wedding. How dare he still message me. I decide to ignore the fact that he even exists and continue packing my bags. I am making the bit step. I'm moving to New York. I'm going to become an English teacher. I studied English language and literature at Oxford University and now it's time to forget all of the people I know, or did know, and have a fresh start.

It's 6am when I arrive at Newark Airport. It's all so amazing here, I can hardly believe that I have done it! I rush to the baggage claims and retrieve my suitcases with a few clothes for the week to get me started. I also have the £1,000 grant from uni to get me on my feet. I call a taxi - or should I say cab - and drive off to my new apartment. As we're driving, I take it all in. Different country, different people. Oh, I am so going to love this. It's 8 in the morning when I arrive at the apartment. Thankfully, the cab driver drags my luggage into the foyer for me so I don't have to do the hard work. I thank him, and pay him $50. American money is so different compared to British money.

I grab my suitcases and gracefully load them into the elevator. It's going to be so weird getting used to all of the American slang. I step into the elevator and stand there awkwardly with just myself. As the doors close, mirrors appear and I am forced to look at myself. Long brown hair that falls down just before my breasts, slim face and a thick body. I've always liked my figure; big boobs, small waist, big arse. Huge thighs. I guess I like being different to the stick-thin superficials. I stare at my makeup. It's so basic, a bit of foundation, powder and blusher and plenty of mascara. I don't like going wild with my makeup, it makes me feel trashy.

The elevator pings and the doors slide open on the 30th floor. Ah, I'm so glad my parents are rich. I don't like to think that I'm spoiled, I just think that they help me out when it comes to having no money. My mom and stepdad are still living in England. I still haven't come to terms with the fact that I'm a thousand miles away. The thought daunts me. I drag my luggage to my apartment and enter the key in the door. This is it, I think to myself. I swing the door open and I'm hit so hard by the perfect apartment. I can't believe this is where I'm going to be living for a good five years. I bring my suitcases in and start unpacking immediately. I'm such an organised person, so everything will have to be away in the next three days. I open my wardrobe door and enter it. Jesus. A walk in wardrobe. I am in heaven. I quickly hang all of my clothes up in order of size and item; I know, I'm a freak. I'm so excited to be settled in here.

When my wardrobe is completed, at around 11am, I head for the supermarket to get some food for the week. I'm going to love living on my own!

In the supermarket, I head for what will last me at least a week: milk, cereal, bread, butter, water, bagels and a few ready packed meals. Done. I might get some cheap wine and celebrate my new apartment. As I'm in the wine aisle, someone nudges me and before I can stop myself, I begin to talk.

"Excuse me, do you see that there is someone standing here?" I say. I look up at the man who nudged me and I think my heart literally stops beating for a second. He's looking right at me, his light blue eyes piercing my soul. I blink a few times and stutter before I start to speak.

"Erm..." Shit. What do I say? Wait no. He kept nudging me. He needs to apologise.

"Feisty, aren't you?" He replies, staring deeply into my soul.

I stutter before I actually speak.

"Well?" I squeak. Why do I feel bad? He kept bumping in to me, I need my personal space.

"I apologise, sincerely, ma'am," he says, calmly. Great. I've made myself look like an utter fool.

"Well, it's okay," is all I can manage. I finally pick out some wine and race to the tills. I glance behind me and he's still watching me, his blue eyes, yet again, piercing my soul. I smile and add my basket to the till.

Back at home I get everything put away and begin cooking dinner. There's not much I can have except the pasta I bought as a ready packed meal. I put the pasta in the saucepan and leave it to cook. I put the rest of my purchases away. The whole time I'm doing this, I can't get Mr Tall, Handsome and Mysterious out of my head. The way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me. Who calls people ma'am nowadays? Is it an American thing? All I know is that I won't be getting this man out of my head for a while. Forget about him, I think to myself. What was so special about him anyway? I try to persuade myself that he was just an ordinary guy shopping for supplies in the supermarket... Except he wasn't. I was meant to meet that man today.

When the pasta is cooked I find a bowl out of one of my boxes and quickly swill it out. I begin to eat the pasta, realising I haven't eaten a full meal for over 6 hours. The pasta is delicious, considering it was a cheap buy. Bravo, Elsie, I think to myself.

I gather all of my things ready for my interview tomorrow and decide to go out and explore New York City. I just can't believe I'm here! Last week I was just worrying about my finances and my break-up. And now I'm in New York. I almost can't believe that it's happening. I start to think about John and I decide to call him. The phone rings twice before he picks up.

"Elsie," he says, and I can almost hear him smile.

"Hey John. Listen, I just wanted to call you to say that... I forgive you." My heart skips a beat. He takes a minute to answer.

"Oh, Elsie! Are you being serious?" He cries. I almost laugh.

"No, I'm not being serious you piece of scum. You fucked my best friend a night before our wedding. I'm so fucking glad I found out an hour before I took your stupid name. Just wanted you to know that I've moved to New York for a new start and you'll never hear from me again. Go fuck yourself, John. And fuck Katie while you're at it." I shout down the phone. Before he can reply, I immediately hang up and delete his phone number. I loved that man. I was smitten by him. How could he do that to me? I suddenly realise what I need to do.

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