Looking to see if I have any messages, I smile when I see a selection of memes from Char. Laughter escapes me while I look for the most inappropriate ones I can find and hit send.
It’s the other message that surprises me though, and for some reason, my heart rate picks up as I open it.
Muscles: How did your audition go?
It must have come through while I was on the tube.
Me: Terrible.
I’m nothing but honest, after all.
I take another gulp of my wine and close my eyes. It’s almost laughable that my parents didn’t even ask me about my audition, yet Nathan managed to remember.
My phone vibrates in my lap, and I almost spill my drink.
“Shit.”
I lick the rim of the glass and look down at the screen.
Muscles: I’m sure you were great, Vi.
If only. I roll my eyes.
Me: I promise it was epically bad. I’m not being modest.
Maybe I need to accept facts. Pushing myself up, I go to the fridge and pull out the cheese, cutting a chunk, and start nibbling it.
Muscles: You forget, I heard you sing. Where are you?
He’s sweet, but he wasn’t there. I’ll let him suck my left nipple if I get a call-back. I laugh at my joke. Fuck, I need to get a life.
Me: I’m at home.
I return to the sofa and consider watching Netflix, and then I remember I had to cancel my subscription. It was already hard with everything split down the middle, but it's even harder now. And the tiny amount I have in my savings account won’t last long. I seriously need a new housemate. But the thought of finding someone fills me with dread.
As easy-going as I am, I’m also a creature of comfort. It’s why Char and I worked so well; I didn’t have to worry about wearing a bra, taking a shower, or peeing with the bathroom door open. Okay, I draw the line at a number two, even I’m not that comfortable.
Muscles: I’ll be there in twenty.
Excuse me? I almost drop my phone as I frantically try to type back.
Me: I said I was home, not that I wasn’t busy!!
Presumptuous or what?
Muscles: Chill your beans, sweet cheeks. See you soon, Tink. *Fairy Emoji*
I stare down at myself and wonder if I should go and retrieve my bra. I’m torn. Fuck it, take me as I am or not at all.
Grabbing the remote, I flick on the TV and start channel hopping. How is it possible to have this many channels and fuck all to watch? I stop when I get to a programme about nightmare neighbours while finishing my wine.
I’m happily buzzed when I hear my intercom sound. It's excessive.
Picking up the handset, I answer. “You know you don’t have to hold your finger on the bell. Once will suffice.”
“Hello to you, too, Tink. You going to let me up?”
I contemplate saying no, but he’s already here, so whatever. Without answering, I press the button and wait for the click, followed by the buzz, and then hang up.
