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A pair of bloodshot, tired eyes looked up at me through the small mirror at the front of the bus. The man who owned those eyes grunted something inaudible. Sniffing, he lifted his sleeve up to his nose and wiped it harshly. He then looked down at where he’d wiped his nose and pulled an extremely unattractive face.
I was beginning to regret getting onto this bus. I’d found out Oliver’s home address on my father’s computer and decided to return his phone to him. Without it, there was no way he’d end up turning up for work tomorrow. Besides, throughout the past few days, I'd become very intrigued in as of where someone like Oliver lived. My original plan was to take one of my chauffeurs and a car, but then I realised that it probably wasn’t a good idea. The last time I’d taken a car, my father had been angry with me for wasting it on ‘something stupid’. He’d probably class this as something stupid, knowing him.
The bus driver looked up at me strangely once again. I swore that if he didn’t stop staring at me, I’d walk the rest of the way. The bus itself didn’t even seem stable; it made this very bizarre crunching sound every time the wheels turned. Staring out of the windows, a flash of different colours rushed past my eyes.
The further we drove, the blander those colours became. The greens turned into browns, the reds turned into faded oranges, and the chic blacks turned into dull greys. I knew that the East End wasn’t a beautiful place, but I thought it would have more colour in it than this. As the immaculate buildings were replaced by terraced houses with rubbish-filled gardens, I began fidgeting anxiously in my seat. Maybe coming here was a bad idea? I thought, biting my lip.
By the time we were well into Tower Hamlets, the area where Oliver lived according to the piece of paper in my pocket- I really wasn’t sure about my decision to return Oliver’s phone. It wasn’t the cleanest of all places, by the looks of it.
“Your stop, love.” The ruff sound of the bus driver's voice grumbled as he looked at me.
Nodding, I stood up and steadied myself with a metal pole as the bus wobbled slightly. The bus came to a sudden stop as I reached the front of it.
I couldn’t help but notice the funny looks and the quiet laughter of the other passengers on the bus. One of the badly dressed teenagers slid their foot out as I was about to pass. Luckily, I wasn't a complete idiot and noticed the battered trainer on the floor in front of me. Grinning mockingly at the boy, I stood over his foot and continued walking.
He laughed behind me as I strutted forward. Pulling my hair back into a high ponytail, I headed towards the door of the bus. Before stepping off the chewing gum filled floor, the driver's voice stopped me.
“You sure this is the right place?” he asked with a smirk on his face. “Don’t see people like you around here, babes.”
Glaring at him, I stepped off the bus and mumbled, “Yeah.” That was disgusting. He must have been at least twenty five years older than me and he called me babes.
I’d been walking for ten minutes when I finally found what I was looking for. It was far from beautiful. I took the sheet of paper out of my pocket and read it carefully. My eyes narrowed as I realised that this was apparently the right place.
In front of me was a tall, extremely badly decorated block of flats. On the road that led up to the building were overfilled bins and black bags that covered an awful lot of the pavement. Maybe I should just turn back...? I thought to myself. I’d told my dad that I’d be back by nine o’ clock. I’d also told him that I was going over my friend, Emma’s, house. I wish I had gone over Emma’s house now because the feeling of this place was making me anxious.
I chuckled to myself quietly as I noticed my stupidity. It wasn’t as though there were a group of men holding me at knifepoint or anything. I laughed at my paranoia as I confidently walked forward. I was such a clichéd rich girl, but that would hopefully soon change. I’d done a pretty good job so far, in my opinion. I was in Tower Hamlets, to begin with.
Pushing the heavy wooden door open, I entered the block of flats to be greeted by a flight of concrete stairs. Beside me was a rather dingy looking metal lift. When my attention was drawn to a man that looked like a much worse groomed version of Santa Clause sleeping in front of the lift, I decided that taking the stairs would be the best option. Dragging my feet up the concrete flight of stairs, I reminded myself that I was going to have to complain to Oliver about living on such a high floor.
After painfully walking up seven flights of stairs, I finally reached the floor that I was looking for. Oliver had better offer me something to eat and drink when I reached his flat. Leaving the small block where the stairs and lift were located, I wondered out onto where the concrete balconys were. Passing every door, my eyes scanned the numbers beside them. 397, 398, 399, 340, 341... Finally. My feet stopped in front of the door that belonged to the number 342.
I was dreading the next few seconds. What if I was at the wrong door, on the wrong block of flats, in the wrong city...? Stop being such a little girl. Even if it is the wrong flat, what’s the worst that could happen? I mentally coached myself. Eventually bringing up the courage, my hand reached for the doorbell. I felt my stomach turn one last time as I pressed gently on the button. Moments later, a faint buzzing sound vibrated into my ears from the other side of the door.
Tapping the wall in a nervous rhythm, I waited until I saw the round doorknob slowly turn. There was a surprised expression on my face when I saw the person on the other side of the door. Standing in front of me was a small, almost white haired girl of about six years old.
“Hello!” She beamed, shoving some kind of round chocolate into her mouth.
“Hello,” I laughed as she girl grinned at me. “does, uh, Oliver Poynter live here...?”
The little girl turned her head to the side slightly for a few seconds as her big eyes looked me up and down. It was soon replaced by the big smile that was previously plastered across her freckled face.
“You’re very pretty,” she said, eating another chocolate button. “I’ll get Ollie for you now.”
I couldn’t help but let a genuine smile spread across my face. Partly because of the fact that I had the right flat, and partly because of the fact that a little girl had just complimented me.
“Thank you,” I smiled at her as she spun around and skipped into the flat, singing.
Who the girl actually was, I had no idea. I would have thought that she was Oliver’s sister, but Oliver had told me that he was an only child, like me. She was probably a cousin or something.
I’d been standing in the doorway for a while now and there was no sign of anyone coming to the door. How long could it possibly take to walk a few steps? My questions were shortly answered by the loud sound of the little girl's voice.
“Ollie!” She yelled. “There’s a girl at the door for you!”
Her high-pitched voice echoed through, what sounded like, the entire building. The little girl called again until I heard footsteps nearing me.
It wasn’t long until I saw Oliver’s familiar face in front of mine. He was wearing what he’d been wearing earlier, except his shirt was off and it was in his hand. There seemed to be some kind of yellowish stain on it. Oliver must have spilt something over it.
Not that I was looking or anything, but Oliver's body was rather easy on the eyes. Thinking about it, Oliver himself was quite nice to look at. He was a bit scruffy, but it kind of suited him in some strange way. If he wasn't so annoying and loud, it wouldn't have been so bad having him as an assistant.
I smiled as politely as I could at him. Oliver, on the other hand, gawked at me as though I had just slapped him across the face.
“Victoria...?” He looked slightly concerned now.
Realising that it was in fact me standing in front of him, he suddenly pushed me backwards and stepped out of the flat, closing the door behind him. Well, that was a nice welcome.
“Yes... well done.” I spoke as though I was speaking to a five year old. “I am Victoria. You’re smarter than you look! Well...” I grinned.
Oliver glared at me for a few seconds before glancing behind him, checking that the door was closed. He was fidgeting as he pulled me to the edge of the balcony.
“Are you going to throw me off or something?” I laughed at his paranoia.
“What are you doing here?” He asked me, ignoring my previous comment.
I had come here to kindly return his phone, something that he certainly should have appreciated. This place was hardly lovely to be in, and he was acting rather rudely. I was beginning to remember why he pissed me off so much.
I rolled my eyes at him as I grabbed the crumpled t-shirt from his hands. Placing it on the balcony edge, he grinned at me weirdly as though he wanted to laugh. Why he wanted to laugh, I didn’t know. I didn’t really want to know either.
“Who was that?” I asked, purposely not answering his question.
“My sister,” he replied, “why are you here?”
He was still holding my arm with his one hand as though I was his pet or something. I’d only been around him for a minute and he was already annoying me. And he called Richard paranoid.
“What happened to, 'I don’t have any brothers or sisters'?” I released myself from his grip.
“Yeah, well. I lied,” he muttered, turning away.
For the first time since I’d known him, Oliver was completely silent. He was simply looking over the edge of the balcony, watching God knows what. It wasn’t as though there was anything interesting below us except for a few battered cars.
During the silence, I took a chance to realise what I was actually doing. This was hardly the safest thing I’d ever done and I knew that it was pretty stupid too. I was impressed with myself though, seriously impressed. I’d managed to make my way to Hackney on my own and I’d actually found the right flat.
As Oliver continued looking anywhere except for my direction, I noticed the rubbish that was piled up against the bottom of the balcony. Very attractive. My eyes wondered, spotting a group of people at the other end of the balcony. They all seemed to be teenagers and as far as I could tell, they were all smoking. I could hear the faint sound of their voices, and considering they were rather far away, they must have been talking pretty loudly. The only words that could have possibly been made out were curse words, which wasn’t very appealing. Great neighbourhood this was.
Turning away from the group of youths, I looked back at Oliver who, unsurprisingly, wasn’t looking back at me. I could tell that he desperately wanted to go back into his flat as he bit his lip, glancing at me every few seconds. It was so strange, he was acting so... unlike him. Mind you, I supposed that was a good thing. Not a single pointless story had started spilling out of his mouth and every few seconds.
“I’ve got your phone,” I said, finally making him look at me.
I pulled the faded black phone out of my pocket and held it out in front of him. He muttered what sounded like a thank you before taking the phone from my hand.
He didn’t seem to even think about apologising for leaving it, or asking where he’d left it, or why I’d come all this way to bring it.
“Bye then,” he said, heading towards the door of his flat.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked him, quickly blocking his way. “You are acting really weird.”
He gritted his teeth together before trying to push me out of his way, but I wasn’t moving. I firmly stood my ground and smiled sarcastically at him.
“No, I’m not.” Oliver argued. “Besides, you randomly turn up here at seven o’ clock in the evening and you except me to be perfectly happy about it? Tori, do you realise how weird you look here. You may as well be dressed in a neon green costume with a giant sign saying ‘look at me’ on it. You need to leave before you get mugged or somethin’.”
That was certainly an exaggeration. Although I understood what he meant when he said that I looked a bit out of place here. I couldn’t have possibly looked that weird though. At least I knew how to take a shower, unlike a lot of the people I’d seen here.
“I’m pretty proud of myself, actually. I managed to get myself here alive and I brought your phone back for you. You could at least pretend to appreciate it.”
Oliver sighed heavily before rubbing his forehead. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just a bit... stressed, I guess. Can you please just go now? I’ve really got to get back into the flat.”
I was thankful to see that Oliver was actually looking at me, not the floor or the wall behind me. He was leaning back against the balcony now, appearing slightly more relaxed than before.
Although Oliver was a lot more relaxed, he was still fidgeting and trying to avoid eye contact with me. He constantly kept on glancing at the flat behind me.
“What is on that?” I nodded at the t-shirt that I’d placed on the edge of the balcony. “Did you spill macaroni cheese on it or something?”
Oliver began chuckling as I stared at him, confused. When he saw the baffled look on my face, the quiet chuckling became laughter.
“Tori, that’s puke.” He smiled, letting a few laughs pass out of his mouth.
I suddenly froze in the spot. I’d touched that t-shirt... I’d ran my finger down the yellow stain on it. I’d touched sick.
“What?” I asked, wide eyed.
“My sister was sick on me, Tori.” He was still laughing.
Surprisingly, his laughter was somehow comforting. Normally, that was the one thing that really annoyed me; Oliver laughing. It must have just been the fact that it sounded a lot better than an awkward silence.
“Wait, how on earth was she sick on you? She must be six at the least...”
I knew that I didn’t have any younger siblings or anything and I didn’t have any cousins that were younger than me either, but I was pretty sure that six year olds didn’t throw up over you; it would have been impossible for that little girl to have reached Oliver’s chest to be sick on.
Oliver once again turned his eyes away from mine for a few seconds. He then turned back at me and shrugged.
“My other sister.” He said simply.
That wasn’t what he told me a few days ago. I was discussing how I wished I had an older brother or sister so the whole marriage thing didn’t have to happen. He had the nerve to lie to me and tell me that he was an only child, as well.
“Thanks for being completely honest with me,” I muttered sarcastically, “are they the only two, or do you also have a pet lizard, or something?”
"Look, I've really got to go," Oliver tried heading towards his flat again before I stopped him, making him curse rather rudely under his breath. “Four brothers and two sisters altogether,” he muttered. "Can I go now?"
Was he kidding? It had gone from single child, to one sister, to two sisters, to four brothers and two sisters. Blooming hell, his mother was certainly a busy woman.
Gaping at Oliver, my mouth dropped open. Was there anything else he hadn’t told me? Right now, I couldn’t do anything but stare.
“Close your mouth, it ain’t attractive.” Oliver winked.
Immediately shutting my mouth, I crossed my arms and gritted my teeth, tapping my foot in annoyance against the hard floor below me.
“Do you practice lying, or does it come naturally to you?” I hissed at him.
“Chill out, Tori. Maybe I don’t want you knowing everything about my life. I do have my rights, believe it or not. Fair enough, I maybe shouldn’t have lied to you, but it’s not as if it’s ende-”
“Oi! Poynter!” A voice shouted from the other end of the balcony. “Oi!”
Both Oliver and I spun around. The group of teenagers I’d noticed earlier were walking towards us, the one at the front shouting. Oliver suddenly grabbed my arm.
“Shit! Tori, you’ve seriously gotta leave.”
. I really like this and it was very easy to understand. I love Oliver, I hate Richard and I think Tori is dense. But in a way I side with Tori, Oliver is sometimes annoying and Richard sounds quite perfect, except from the anger thing. I don't think this chapter is boring at all and I liked the build-up to the end of the chapter, and the cliffhanger. 
.My other and the only critique about the story would be that you aren't showing the same bitterness Victoria once shared for Oliver. I mean, you still do say that he needs to know how to shut up their mouths and all, but the bitter feelings, the hatred is something I think was lacking in this chapter. I know that she has to develop soft corner for him, so...I am just confused by the way you're presenting it. Other thing that was confusing or missing was that I really needed to see how Oliver looked when Richard insulted him. That can explain a lot about his attitude and feelings towards Richard.
