All I Want For Christmas Is You

I clicked the elevator button, expecting no one to be there, and there was a couple getting in the elevator once it opened at the same time as me. They were American, so they asked me questions as to why I was here and so on and so forth. And I spoke to them while staring at my multi-colored socks (I forgot to put on shoes) on the carpeted floor.
The elevator finally, (And can I highlight FINALLY), got down to the lobby entrance and I stepped out onto the cold marble floor. I glanced around and noticed there was a sofa and some recliners that I didn’t note when I got inside. It looked different now… Since it was like evening.
I saw the man at the counter speaking to another boy (and when I say boy, I mean about a 20 year old) in a trench coat. They were both British, of course. After the boy walked away, the lobby man dinged his little bell meaning he could be of assistance. “Excuse me sir!” I said, slipping and sliding on the floor to him. He caught me before I fell and I gave my apologies. I normally wasn’t a klutz.
“Yes madam?” he asked, getting back behind the marble counter and tapping the tips of his fingers impatiently on the stone. I cleared my throat and then asked. “Is there any pizza, or take out places that could deliver here?” He gave a small smile and then picked up a book. “Miss, This isn’t America. The only place you may know of though is a McDonalds a few blocks down, but they don’t deliver,” he said, in almost a rude tone. “Ok-ay?” I said, walking backwards, but surely enough I fell and I screamed as I felt some hands grasp my waist to catch me.
I felt my breathing slow down as I figured out that I didn’t break my leg or anything. I then glanced around and saw the boy in the trench coat. “Are you alright?” he asked, spinning me around to where I was facing him. I rolled the leather of his coat around in my hands and looked into his eyes. He looked very similar to one of the guys in One Direction. But for sure it wasn’t one of them.
I nodded and caught back my balance. “Maybe you should wear shoes?” he asked, followed by a giggle. I felt my face turn hot and I looked away and ran back up the stairs, I didn’t want to have an awkward encounter with any boys again… Especially when I was not even wearing shoes.

I ran back into the room and I saw Karla curling her hair. “Karla… Really?” I asked, twirling my finger around one of her ringlets. “What?” she asked innocently. I rolled my eyes and noticed Val wasn’t in the room. “Where’s Valerie?” I asked, knowing that she wasn’t paying attention. Karla shrugged and kept staring at herself in the mirror with the curling iron. “Karla! We are in a foreign country and you don’t care if my little sister has gone missing or not?” I asked, slamming my palm on the countertop. Karla set her curling iron down. “Fine, I’ll go look,” she said, aggravated at my constant reproving. “She’s not in here,” she said, looking in the room from the bathroom door. “Great,” I said frustrated stomping to the door. “What? I’m not her care-taker or whatever,” Karla said, going back into the bathroom to finish her undone look. Well… Val was officially missing… in London England… Lovely.

Notes