I woke up a couple of hours later, the smell of macadamia nut cookies filling my nostrils. They were always my favorite. My stomach grumbled, and I glanced at my clock on the night table and saw that it was going on five. My stomach let out another growl, louder than the last, forcing me to get up to feed it.
I followed the heavy scent of cookies to the kitchen and expected to see mom, but instead, found Isa pulling a batch of cookies out of the oven.
After putting in another batch, she noticed me and pulled me in for a hug. I had to suppress my urge to groan. It's not that I didn't like Isa, but the amount of physical contact I had today was way past my limit. Despite that, I hugged her back, and let go moments later.
She started a conversation, but my eyes were too busy staring at the cookies behind her.
"I have an amazing idea," she smirked, her British accent becoming thicker. "How about you stop drooling over the cookies behind my back, and just grab one along with a cuppa?"
She laughed and I raised eyebrows. I didn't know what 'cuppa' meant.
"What's the face for?"
I shrugged and slid past her and grabbed a cookie. It melted into my mouth, so I finished it quickly, and she stared at me. Her hands rested on her hips, and her gray-blue eyes bored into mine. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked down at my shirt, wondering if I spilled something on me.
She rolled her eyes. "Well," she gestured toward me, "how'd it taste?"
I gave her a thumbs-up as my response and she smirked once again, seemingly proud of herself.
Just as she opened her mouth to say something else, the doorbell rang. I nodded my head at the door so and went to open it, seeing that Isa was busy with baking, and no one else was around. First, I peeked through the door hole, but all I saw was a neck. I tried looking again, but I couldn't tell who it was.
I gave up trying to see them, and opened the door. A woman stood on the porch, around six feet tall with a dark blue suitcase next to her. I couldn't help but stare. Her curly hair rested on her shoulders, walking on a thin line between red and brown, complimenting her tan skin. Her eyes-
A white cloud formed as she opened her mouth. "Hey mate... not sure if ya noticed, but it's kinda chilly out here," she joked, a thick accent I didn't recognize, seeping through her voice. "So, can I come in?"
Snapping out of my daze, I moved out of her way, and let her step in. I sighed, realizing she was probably a family member of Isa's. After all, she did in fact look like her. I refrained from sighing again over my lack of a decent first impression and decided to keep my mouth shut. I didn't want or need to embarrass myself further.
As she got her stuff situated, she asked, "Tell me. Do Americans always do this?"
I furrowed my eyebrows. "Do what?"
"Let people into their homes, without so much as a 'hey'?"
"No, just me," I said, trying to play off my embarrassment.
She lifted an eyebrow and gave me a small smile, making me wish it would stretch farther and turn into a full one. "Name's Aloryan by the way, not that you asked."
I nodded my head at her. "Onsana."
Isa came into the room, disrupting our not-so-great conversation, and hugged Aloryan.
"Onsana, this is Aloryan. I was trying to tell you about her earlier, but she interrupted me." Isa glared playfully at Aloryan. "Anyway, my sister and parents will be joining us for dinner, but I guess you already know that now, don't you?"
Leaving her rhetorical question unanswered, she turned toward Aloyan. "I haven't seen you since I last went to Straya. How are you doing?"
My ears perked up when she mentioned the word Straya. It sounded like a slang version of Australia, making realization dawn on me.
Her accent was Australian.