(aw sweet sweet song)


@chrissykinz @sarahstardom 

Name : Amelia "Mila" Aganovic, 24 (is that a good age?)
Hometown : Melbourne, Victoria
School : University of Melbourne
Career : owns a boutique and is in a band
Likes : music, rainbows, champagne, home decor, her guitar, baking cupcakes, jewelry, magazines, summertime, flowers, margarita, fresh fruit
Dislikes : cooking (she generally eats out or takeout; baking sweets is more her style), boy trouble, Gangnam Style, punctuality, managing money, math, and cigarettes
Bio: Amelia Aganovic--or Mila, rather (you can't call her Amelia unless you're her grandmother)--is fresh out of university and is just settling into her new life in Sydney. She was born and raised in Melbourne, and all her life she dreamed of seeing the Sydney Opera House and that is why she moved to Sydney--okay, no, she just thinks Melbourne is kind of boring after 23 years. Mila is the kind of girl who thrives on change and always has something going on, and so after finishing up university, she flew to Sydney, started up her boutique in the Northern Beaches area, and met a cute guy named Sebastian who invited her to be in his band after hearing her sing under her breath in line at Starbucks. If you ask her what the meaning of life is, she'll say, "Being free." She has no intention in settling down anytime soon, but let's see if something can change that for our little wild bird.
Relationship Status : single (but is she ready to mingle...with Sebastian?)
Model: Annabelle Fleur


“Emily, you okay in here? Looks like a stampede,” I ask as I poke my head out of my office. Really, I’m being sarcastic because the store is anything but.

Emily, the new salesgirl who I hired because of her sunny disposition and the fact that between her and the other two applicants, she was the only one who showed up on time to her interview (which I guess is a hypocritical bias, considering I’m never on time anywhere), looks up from her magazine and bites her lip.

“Oh, I don’t know, I could use some reinforcements.”

I wink at her and poke my head back into my office. It’s so lazy out there that all afternoon since our lunch break, I’ve had nothing better to do than hole away in my office, pretending to go over financials while listening to my favorite radio program. 

“Be sure to return next week, when we’ll be interviewing future stars, including Cammie’s girl crush Rita Ora and Mr. Gangnam Style himself, PSY,” Leighton Ashford tells me over radio waves from who knows where in Sydney. 

After the program ends, I turn off my radio, figuring I should probably focus and maybe actually take a look at the financials, when I hear the bell I strung above the front door chime. The clear tinkling is followed by a short, melodious whistle. I know exactly who it is.

“Come on back, Seb,” I call without looking up from my papers. I sigh in frustration. I hate numbers, especially if I’ve had to forego my usual to-go cappuccino from Starbucks like today.

“Hello, sunshine,” Sebastian chirps, leaning in the doorway in an extremely sexy way-I mean, okay, come on, ANY BOY leaning like that would look sexy and I can assure you there is no preferential treatment towards this particular one.

None. Whatsoever.

“What do you want?” I ask in mocking exasperation. “I’m a busy woman, can’t you see?”

“Oh, yeah, I can see. I just wanted to remind you about practice tonight.”

“You’re so full of it. It’s on my calendar. And in my phone. I set it there this time. Is this because I was late last time?”

“You, m’dear, are late every time. Besides, busy women have so much going on, I thought it’d be best I came by myself. I was thinking about writing it in pen on your face. Oh, and I brought you this,” he says, and with a flourish, brings his hand back from behind him and presents me with-oh my GOD, a CAPPUCCINO! 

“I must say I think I’m in love with you,” I say in what I hope is an appreciative tone, taking a much-longed-for sip of the foamy goodness.

Oh, so good.

“I know, babe.”

“Shut up, get out, see you at seven you b-stard.”

“If you’re late, you’re out of the band.”

“I will try my oh-so-hardest. GOOD-BYE.”

I give him a push and slam the door in his face, trying not to savor the sound of his maniacal laughter. 

No, no, no, you’re getting the wrong idea, it’s quite a nice laugh! ANY BOY could have that laugh, mind you, and I would try not to savor it.

I shake my head at myself and take a seat again with a quick glance at the clock hanging above the door. 5:07. Precisely one hour and fifty-three minutes of agonizing numbers and I can finally enjoy myself.

At least I have a cappuccino.



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