“Well, she couldn’t really,” Rosa says, giving Finley a wink. “Not when we have photographic evidence to prove it.”
“What photos?” I ask, caught halfway between enraged and amused. We’ve now officially exchanged more conversation in the last minute than during the week since I moved in.
“You want to know what I can’t work out, Rosa?”
“What can’t you work out, Finley?”
“I can’t work out whether she’s sneaking him in and out through the window because she’s ashamed of us—”
“How could she even?” Rosa shakes her head with mock disappointment.
“—or if she thinks we’re so attractive that we’ll steal him away from her to have our own fun times.”
“Because we’re that unscrupulous.”
“Well, you might be darling. I’ll have you know, I’m a card-carrying lesbian.”
Rosa jerks a thumb at Finley. “She is, you know. I have proof.”
“But even I have to admit to being tempted.” Finley brushes her nails against her top. “I want to know where that boy got his genes so I can help myself to some.”
“That’s genes with a G, not a J, just in case you’re confused.”
“She’s not confused. I’m the one with the learning difficulty.”
“Didn’t realise there could only be one per household.”
“It’s the law. You’re meant to raise me up and if there were more of me, we’d just end up pulling you down.”
“To your level, or…?”
“Who knows, darling? I learned a long time ago not to question authority.” Finley moves closer to me with a glint in her eye. “Unlike some people who, apparently, are too good to use the door.”
The back and forth of their conversation leaves me dizzy and a tad perplexed. “When did you two turn into a double act?”
Rosa wrinkles her nose as she says, “In the hour that we bonded over the atrocious—”
“Not atrocious,” Finley interjects. “More like interesting.”
“Definitely interesting. Even… salacious?”
“Get a load of you with your big words. Pretty soon I’ll have a proper vocabulary and everything.”
They exchange a high-five, grinning like fools. “The salacious sounds emerging from your bedroom,” Rosa finishes, as they both look pleased with themselves.
“There’s no one in my bedroom.”
Rosa turns a phone screen towards me. “And I suppose you’ve never met this delightful physical specimen?”
The image shows Zach outside my window, glancing in the opposite direction to the camera as he slides up the sash.
“He left. A while ago.”
“Mm-hm.” Rosa arches her eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“There’s nothing—”
“What was the ice for? That’s what I’m most curious about. Not just the sounds of a sloppy blow job that—don’t you dare to deny—were emerging from your door, but ice. Where does that fit in? Have I been missing a trick all these years?”
