ROWAN: Okay, that one made me laugh. Shouldn’t that be dental assistants do it orally? I don’t believe the dentist has had the opportunity.
I flushed and ran a hand through my hair before tapping out a reply.
MAX: Not yet.
“What are you grinning about?” Becca asked, looking up from her own phone. She was stretched out on my bed, having invited herself over.
“Nothing, just a funny meme,” I replied, locking my phone and sliding it back into my pocket. “You want to watch a film or something?”
“Maybe. I’m bored,” Becca whined, rolling over on my bed so her head was hanging over the edge. “It’s Saturday, can we go out for drinks or something?”
“Sure, I guess,” I replied, pulling my feet down from the bed where they were resting and sitting up in my computer chair. “What do you fancy?”
Becca rolled over onto her front, eyes sparkling excitedly. I knew that expression; she had an idea. “Well...” Becca paused, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
“Okay, what do you have planned?” I asked suspiciously. Becca smiled back innocently.
“I kind of wondered, um... I wondered if we could go to a gay club?” she laughed sheepishly and sat up.
“What on earth would you want to go to a gay club for?” I grinned. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?” Becca’s face went bright red, and she floundered, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. I laughed.
“Of course not!” Becca finally managed to splutter and threw a pillow at me. I dodged it. “I’ve just never been, and I heard they’re good fun – whether you’re gay or not. Now I finally have a gay bestie who can accompany me.” She smiled widely and batted her eyelashes.
I shook my head, smiling. “Alright, I guess we could do that. You realise gay clubs aren’t the same as the ones you see on TV, right?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, the one in town is pretty grungy. There’s no glitter or any rainbow flags or anything like that,” I explained. “It’s just a sweaty club like any other with really,reallyloud music.”
“We’re still going.” Becca nodded decisively. “It’ll be fun.”
“Yes, Mum,” I replied sarcastically, earning myself a playful slap. “Hey, it’s already, like, four. Don’t you want to get ready before we go?”
“You’re right.” She hopped over to my wardrobe and after studying the contents, she threw a t-shirt onto the bed.
I watched her, confused. “What’re you doing?”
“Choosing an outfit for you, then we’ll head over to mine.” Becca grinned, glancing back at the wardrobe. “Ooh! This is way sexier.” She pulled out a different t-shirt and threw it onto the bed. I hadn’t worn it for years.
“That probably doesn’t fit me anymore.” I pointed out. Becca whipped her head around to look at me, a mischievous smile painted across her face.
“That’s the idea, Max,” she replied, dancing around my room collecting items I would need to stay over at her house. “Is that everything?” Becca asked, gesturing to the small heap of items she dropped onto the bed. I studied it momentarily.
“Yes, apart from my toothbrush and that kind of thing.” I nodded, looking up at her. “Shall I have a shower here before we go or at yours?”
“No time. You can shower at mine,” she replied in a sing-song voice, dropping to the floor to tug her shoes back on. Whilst Becca hurried around my room gathering her belongings, I shoved the pile of things she had laid out for me into an old, dirty backpack.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked me with a smile. I simply nodded and we both headed out into the living room in time to see Oliver coming through the front door.
“I’m going out and staying at Becca’s. I’ll catch you tomorrow.” I strode past, not looking at him. He still had yet to apologise for the way he’d spoken to me the previous weekend, but in the curious way Oliver often did, he’d twisted it all into being my fault.
“Hey, Oliver,” Becca muttered quietly and hurried past him to link her arm through mine. I didn’t look back to see what kind of expression Oliver was wearing but I smirked to myself imagining it.
It didn’t take long to get to Becca’s flat. We arrived at the bus stop literally seconds before the bus we needed to catch pulled in and flew straight through all the traffic lights; not seeing a single red the whole journey.
“Damn it,” Becca grumbled, shoving her front door hard. “This stupid door keeps jamming!” After a few attempts at pushing into it, Becca finally backed away.
“Is it the damp or just the paint?” I asked, eyeing the doorframe curiously.
