(Shortlisted in the 5th MashStories competition, Feb 2015)
“Another one?” said Katie, hearing the giggles from upstairs.
“Two,” said Amy. “One’s in the shower.”
“In the shower? What’s he been doing with them?”
“Oh, she only just arrived. She works part-time at the chippy and wanted to clean up first.”
“Jeez. I always thought he was too geeky for that sort of action.”
“Some people like ‘geeky’,” Amy was picking at the dried flower arrangement on the table. “Some people cultivate it.”
“Well enough about that. Let’s talk about you.” Katie slapped her hand away. “What’s all this crap about moving out? You can’t leave me here on my own.”
More giggles floated down to them.
“It’s that.” Amy jerked her head toward the stairs, “I can’t stand living in a brothel anymore.”
“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”
“He’s going through the English Lit first years like a bad curry.”
“It’s a cockpit up there.”
“Don’t you mean a cess-pit?”
“Oh no. I know exactly what I mean. It’s his control centre of lurve. Everything’s in easy reach, the switch to dim the lights, the music, the drawer with his condom selection…”
“Ew, and I left you alone in the house with him for a whole weekend last month.”
“Excuse me, which one of you is Amy?”
Both girls looked up guiltily.
“Jude said you might lend me your blow-dryer?” The girl in the doorway flushed at their sudden scrutiny and lifted a damp lock of hair, “he doesn’t like it when I drip on his books.”
“On his books?”
“Well of course, what did you think…?” She glared at the expression on Katie’s face, “oh, please! He’s our study partner. Besides, everyone knows he’s too hung up on some girl he slept with a month ago.”
Amy’s fingers jerked on the papery flower pod she was holding and it split, scattering honesty seeds across the table.
© Angela Wooldridge 2014