‘Goodnight,’ he says, giggling a little. I say it back, and he turns off the lamp between us.
Silence.
Then:
Thump.
Thump.
Thump thump.
A long, drawn-out moan. A quick whisperedssssh, followed by a muffledyes!
After a few minutes, the sources of the noise seem to forget about even these paltry attempts at keeping it down. I squeeze my eyes shut, cursing myself for trying to be properly social by leaving the noise-cancelling headphones at home.
The lamp turns on. I look over at Arthur, who is wincing with each thump.
‘Feel like watching a movie?’ he asks.
‘Oh God, yes!’ I reply in the same tone as what’s happening next door.
There’s a few DVDs in the house but mostly VHS tapes and nothing released after 2004. We end up choosingNever Been Kissed.
‘I didn’t have you pegged as a rom-com guy,’ I say.
‘I’m not. I just think Drew Barrymore’s really hot.’ He walks in carrying the half-block of chocolate we didn’t use earlier on the platter. He offers it to me and sits down on the brown corduroy two-seater. It’s very small, so we’re sitting thigh to thigh (his are now covered in trackies, a change I note with mixed feelings), feet up on the coffee table in front. I throw the blanket over his legs and press play. The thumps are quieter here and the moans don’t penetrate (as it were), but I turn the volume up a bit anyway. If I kill the vibe, fuck it. They killed my innocence.
Little by little, the chocolate disappears and we sink further into the couch. If I’m leaning a bit into Arthur’s side, it’s just because the couch sags in the middle: an accident of physics.
In the scene where Drew is high at the club, Arthur asks, ‘How’s it all going with your work friends?’
In my guilty silence, it seems like the thumping becomes louder.
‘Well?’ he presses.
‘So, I might have stuffed it up,’ I admit.
‘How?’
‘Bee and I had a discussion a few weeks ago, and I came to the conclusion that in focusing on my new friends, I was neglecting her and not acting like a good friend, so I had to reprioritise a bit.’
The disappointment that darkens his face, though expected, is my new least favourite thing. It’s also marked with a tinge of scepticism. ‘Youcame to this conclusion, then? All on your own?’
‘Well, no,’ I say. ‘Bee communicated how she was feeling;I decided that her feelings were valid and acted accordingly.’
‘And that acting involved ghosting all your new friends and focusing all your attention on Bianca? Do I have that right?’
More or less. ‘I wouldn’t say ghosted.’
‘Then text them right now.’ He’s calling my bluff. He knows I can’t do that without risking extreme embarrassment. He underestimates my skills at the game of chicken.
‘I will,’ I say, and his face says shock.
I make a group chat with Nicole and Reg.
Hey guys!
Too heteronormative.
