{Avaluna Chesmore}
My name is Avaluna Chesmore, but I go by Luna. I was born and raised in the quaint town of Shirton, located in Oxford, England. To call it small would be an understatement—it's more like a tiny speck on the map with a population of just 1074.
For as long as I can remember, my nose has been perpetually buried in books. There's something about them that brings me immense joy. Through their pages, I can embark on extraordinary adventures and become anyone I desire. Books have become my sanctuary, a means of escaping the mundane and dreary existence of my everyday life. In those pages, the world opens up to me like a vast ocean, and I relish in exploring its depths, much like my love for seafood. Who doesn’t like some good ol’ succulent Dungeness crab, delicately paired with a rich, velvety butter?
Mm-mmmm!
I found contentment in the idea of embracing my life in Shirton, appreciating the quietude and solitude. Picture me as a spinster, accompanied by a delightful pack of dogs. Now, why a spinster, you might wonder? Well, it's certainly not because I'm lacking in the looks department.
At least, I don't think so.
Let me give you a glimpse of my appearance: I proudly rock thick, curly platinum blonde hair that flows down to my mid-back. Yeah, I used to be a proper brunette, but this platinum look suits me down to the ground, if you catch my drift.
Some of my mates out there know exactly what I'm on about. No matter the color of your hair, we all fancy living on the edge from time to time don’t we?
The day I strolled into my house with my new look, my dear mum nearly keeled over in shock. Ah, those were the good ol’ days! My hair perfectly complements my metallic grey eyes and lovely warm ivory skin. And let's not forget my irresistible features—a cute button nose, pink cupid's bow lips, and a heart-shaped face. But I've got to give a shoutout to my mum for blessing me with a nicely-rounded bum— grateful for that.
It mostly has to do with those Spanish genes on Mum's side and maybe a little too much, fried food. No need for any judging, I never claimed to be skinny now did I? Just keeping it real.
115 pounds isn’t the bloody end of the world, mate. Maybe, just maybe, I'm hovering around the 120-ish mark... Alright, alright, you got me, it's more like 137! No need to twist my arm. But hey, I've learned to embrace it. The only thing I sometimes wish for is a few extra inches, but hey, I love myself just the way I am.
Nothing some stilettos can’t fix.
At 5 feet 3 inches, I confidently strut my stuff, fully aware of my undeniable beauty. My mummy said so. She wouldn't dare fabricate such compliments, would she? Let's just leave that question unanswered, shall we?
Anyway, back to my original point. To be honest, none of the lads around here have ever caught my fancy. They simply don't measure up to the "Prince Charming" figures in my beloved books. And let's not forget, they're a bunch of horny blokes who haven't a clue how to treat a proper lady.
Now, I'm not deluded or anything of the sort. I fully understand that the characters in my books are figments of my imagination. But there's this lingering belief within me that somewhere out there, my perfect man exists, patiently awaiting our destined encounter. I know it sounds peculiar or far-fetched, and I can't blame you for thinking so, mate. Hell, even my own family finds it odd. Hence, my decision to remain a spinster. Good Lord, I'll end up departing this world as a virgin! Perhaps I should save my parents the worry and join a nunnery.
Mum would undoubtedly have a heart attack, but Papa would secretly relish the idea.
Yep, I had it all planned out, but life has a funny way of throwing unexpected curveballs. As fate would have it, Papa's job transferred him to Seattle, Washington, in the USA. Initially, I despised the idea of moving, but over time, it grew on me. It's been a solid eight years since the relocation, and I can honestly say I have no regrets. Needless to say, I didn't end up joining a nunnery, and I most certainly will not be departing this world as a virgin.
Cue the confetti!
Now, as for my family, my older brother Avin made the decision to move back to Shirton. And my sister Avery tied the knot last summer with some pompous hotshot lawyer. The chap is an absolute knobhead, pardon my language. I don't typically throw around such profanity, but in this case, it fits like a glove. You know what they say, if it quacks like a duck and walks like a duck, it surely can't be mistaken for a flamingo.
As for yours truly, the baby in the family, I must say I'm rather fortunate. I have an incredible boyfriend who is caring, loving, and simply wonderful. We met at college, during our freshman year and have been together for nearly a year now. While he may not fit the exact mould of a "Prince Charming," he's pretty bloody close and undeniably attractive. Imagine smooth honey-blonde hair, eyes as captivating as the sky on a summer's day, and ruggedly masculine features that make heads turn. And let's not forget his killer physique, which he maintains through rigorous workouts and his passion for American football. He's the quarterback and a true dreamboat—a quintessential all-American boy. Then there's me, an absolute wizard when it comes to school. I'm talking straight A's across the board, no less. I've got my noggin filled with knowledge and my academic prowess is a sight to behold. Top of the class. A badge I wear with pride. I have it all planned out. Ethan's gonna be working at his old man's law firm, while I'll be making waves at one of the top-notch publishing houses in town. Once we've graduated, tied the knot, Ethan made partner, and I've become a successful publisher, we'll be popping out two little ankle-biters. A proper lad and a darling little girl.
I have it all figured out—
"Babe? Babe? Are you still with me?" Ethan snaps his fingers in front of my face, pulling me out of my habitual daydreaming.
"Uh... Yeah, sorry," I reply, offering a sheepish smile while instinctively nibbling on my bottom lip—a telltale sign when I'm caught spacing out.
He chuckles, his voice dripping with affection. "You're adorable, you know that?" A rush of warmth flushes my cheeks.
Leaning in, he places a gentle kiss on my forehead before resuming his lively chatter about his mate Ryan, whom he deems a complete twit with an astonishing knack for laziness. I settle comfortably into my seat on the bus that was heading back to Seattle after a blissful two weeks soaking up the sun on a beach in the Bahamas. Ethan's stories just went on and on… I nod intermittently, interjecting with an occasional "he didn't" or "No way.”
"Attention, ladies and gentlemen! We apologize for the inconvenience, but due to an accident on the highway, we will be taking a detour. Rest assured, we are still on track to arrive on time," the bus driver's voice boomed through the speakers.
Ten minutes later, in the middle of Ethan’s sentence, the driver announces once more, "Welcome to Brandonville Mall. Please take this opportunity to stretch your legs and use the restroom. The bus will be departing in twenty minutes.”
We all filed out of the bus and headed towards the food court in small groups.
"Grab me a slice of meat lovers. I need to use the restroom," I said.
Using the bus restroom has always been a dreadful experience for me; it just feels so dirty, and I was secretly afraid of being splashed when that cursed bus decided to go over a hump or hit a bump. I'm talking about a full-on splash zone situation. It's enough to make a person question their life choices.
Oh, Victoria's Secret! Hmm, maybe I'll pop in on my way back. They seem to be having a sale. Sneaky buggers. They make you traipse past all these stores just to use the loo. It's their way of reeling you in. Crafty devils.
After taking care of business and washing my hands, I turn to leave when someone grabbed me from behind! It was like a scene straight out of a horror flick. My girly screams were promptly muffled, leaving me in a state of utter shock and terror. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer as my mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening.
Absolute madness, it was!
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