Chapter One
April 2012
Dear Diary,
God, you'd think that after all this time, I'd have a much cooler greeting than that!
I just wanted to say that I hate airports. Nothing to do, other than sit around, waiting... waiting... oh, and more waiting. What am I waiting around in the airport for? So nice of you to ask. I'm finally off to America (I'm doing a silent happy dance in my seat!) for six weeks. I never thought that my college would have arranged something like this to give a bunch of seventeen and eighteen year olds "life experience". I mean, it's not even a 'proper' exchange programme. No-one's off to the U.K. to stay in my house in return. I just get to go and stay with a family I have never met before. Oh crap, now I'm getting nervous.
Oh well, it's too late, flight's being called.
Holly x
~DD~
April 2012
Dear Diary,
You know in the movies, when a girl is met off her flight by a hot guy holding up a sign with her name on it? Well, only I could miss it when it actually happens to me. That'll teach me to look at my iPod when I walk into arrivals. There I was, the last one left waiting, feeling a bit lost when this guy taps me on the shoulder. He was fucking HUGE! I nearly peed myself and ran away—until I saw the sign in his hands. Yeah, I'm an idiot.
So . . . Tyler King . . . is fucking BEAUTIFUL! There is simply no other way to describe him. He's gorgeous, in that big, brawny rugby player kind of way. His hair glows like a bloody neon sign saying " Hey girls, look at me " it's so pale. I've never actually seen anyone with white-blond hair outside of a magazine before. Then there are his eyes . . . My knees may have actually weakened slightly. They were beautifully wide and ice blue, almost colourless, but not in a creepy way. When he looked at me it was like he could see right into my soul. Urgh, corny much?
He grabbed my case as if it were lighter than paper, while laughing at me. His voice was all deep and rumbly. I have to admit, my girly bits tingled a little.
Maybe I can make the most of these six weeks.
Sitting in his beast of a car was kind of awkward. He chatted away to me, mainly taking the piss out of my accent and my height. He actually called me dinky! The cheek of it. Then he told me all about the school I’ll be going to, giving me the lowdown on all the teachers and stuff like that. I really didn't know what to say without sounding like a total airhead. Eventually I stopped even trying to respond to him and spent the rest of the drive gazing at him sneakily out of the corner of my eye while he bopped his head to a song I've never heard of.
We arrived at his huge house. When I say huge, I mean it was like a fucking palace, especially compared to our crappy three bedrooms back home. The King house is all white and postcard worthy. The inside is just as amazing, like something out of that American makeover show where they rebuild houses from scratch, and I cry every single time I watch it.
Chapter Two
April 2012
Dear Diary,
Wow, jet lag hits hard and fast! One minute I was sat on my extremely comfy bed, writing. The next, its morning and my face is covered in ink.
Luckily, I woke up to find the house empty. There was a note propped up by the kettle written in the neatest writing I have ever seen, explaining that the family had gone to church and would be back in time for lunch. It gave me time to shower, dress, and reflect. My poor brain is operating on overload.
When Tyler had opened the door to let us in yesterday, I was completely gobsmacked. His mum, "Please call me Marie", had laid on a welcome spread. We had just sat down to eat, when his dad, "Please, call me Joseph," and his brother, Aiden, walked in. I thought Tyler was tall, but Aiden must've been raised in horse shit! I didn't see much of him cause he went straight to his room after we exchanged pleasantries.
Oh,
April 2012
Dear Diary,
God, you'd think that after all this time, I'd have a much cooler greeting than that!
I just wanted to say that I hate airports. Nothing to do, other than sit around, waiting... waiting... oh, and more waiting. What am I waiting around in the airport for? So nice of you to ask. I'm finally off to America (I'm doing a silent happy dance in my seat!) for six weeks. I never thought that my college would have arranged something like this to give a bunch of seventeen and eighteen year olds "life experience". I mean, it's not even a 'proper' exchange programme. No-one's off to the U.K. to stay in my house in return. I just get to go and stay with a family I have never met before. Oh crap, now I'm getting nervous.
Oh well, it's too late, flight's being called.
Holly x
~DD~
April 2012
Dear Diary,
You know in the movies, when a girl is met off her flight by a hot guy holding up a sign with her name on it? Well, only I could miss it when it actually happens to me. That'll teach me to look at my iPod when I walk into arrivals. There I was, the last one left waiting, feeling a bit lost when this guy taps me on the shoulder. He was fucking HUGE! I nearly peed myself and ran away—until I saw the sign in his hands. Yeah, I'm an idiot.
So . . . Tyler King . . . is fucking BEAUTIFUL! There is simply no other way to describe him. He's gorgeous, in that big, brawny rugby player kind of way. His hair glows like a bloody neon sign saying " Hey girls, look at me " it's so pale. I've never actually seen anyone with white-blond hair outside of a magazine before. Then there are his eyes . . . My knees may have actually weakened slightly. They were beautifully wide and ice blue, almost colourless, but not in a creepy way. When he looked at me it was like he could see right into my soul. Urgh, corny much?
He grabbed my case as if it were lighter than paper, while laughing at me. His voice was all deep and rumbly. I have to admit, my girly bits tingled a little.
Maybe I can make the most of these six weeks.
Sitting in his beast of a car was kind of awkward. He chatted away to me, mainly taking the piss out of my accent and my height. He actually called me dinky! The cheek of it. Then he told me all about the school I’ll be going to, giving me the lowdown on all the teachers and stuff like that. I really didn't know what to say without sounding like a total airhead. Eventually I stopped even trying to respond to him and spent the rest of the drive gazing at him sneakily out of the corner of my eye while he bopped his head to a song I've never heard of.
We arrived at his huge house. When I say huge, I mean it was like a fucking palace, especially compared to our crappy three bedrooms back home. The King house is all white and postcard worthy. The inside is just as amazing, like something out of that American makeover show where they rebuild houses from scratch, and I cry every single time I watch it.
Chapter Two
April 2012
Dear Diary,
Wow, jet lag hits hard and fast! One minute I was sat on my extremely comfy bed, writing. The next, its morning and my face is covered in ink.
Luckily, I woke up to find the house empty. There was a note propped up by the kettle written in the neatest writing I have ever seen, explaining that the family had gone to church and would be back in time for lunch. It gave me time to shower, dress, and reflect. My poor brain is operating on overload.
When Tyler had opened the door to let us in yesterday, I was completely gobsmacked. His mum, "Please call me Marie", had laid on a welcome spread. We had just sat down to eat, when his dad, "Please, call me Joseph," and his brother, Aiden, walked in. I thought Tyler was tall, but Aiden must've been raised in horse shit! I didn't see much of him cause he went straight to his room after we exchanged pleasantries.
Oh,
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