“Thank you,” I call as I climb out of his car. “See you in a bit!”
I’ll actually be seeing Connor very soon because we’re going to his restaurant for food before hitting the bars.
I walk down Vi’s garden path and knock on the door. Connor is still parked outside the house and ignores me when I try to wave him off. When Violet opens the door a few seconds later, she looks past me and straight into the open window of the car.
“Is he with you?” she asks without looking at me; she’s too busy gawking.
I shrug. “He just gave me a lift.”
“Does he want to come in for a drink?” Violet twirls a strand of hair around her finger and lets her silky dressing gown fall open slightly at the top, just enough to reveal some cleavage, eyes still on Connor.
I don’t look around to see if Connor is looking back, if he’s enticed by her blatant silent flirting. I just shift my body subtly infront of her, blocking her view. “No, he’s on his way to work.”
“Oh, maybe another time then?” For a second, Violet pouts, but quickly recovers, as most twenty-three-year-olds do. “Anyway, get your arse inside and tell me everything about your hot-as-hell chauffeur!”
Violet’s house is smaller than Connor’s, and her décor has a studenty vibe, but there’s no denying it’s comfortable and homely. The front door leads straight into the living room, where a worn leather sofa sits on bare floorboards that have seen better days. Clothes are strewn everywhere and used glasses and bowls lie on every surface. I look towards the walls and see she’s covered the entire back wall with a collage of pictures of her, her friends and family.
Violet leads me through the room and into a tiny kitchen at the back of the house. ‘Kitchen’ might be a bit of a stretch. It’s a room with a sink, a mini fridge and a microwave.
“Drink?” Violet asks. She opens the mini fridge to reveal it’s full of wine.
“Sure, thanks.”
Violet grabs an open bottle of roséand pours me a generous glass. “Get that down you,” she says and leads me towards the threadbare carpet of the stairs.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask as we enter her bedroom.
Like the rest of the house, it’s small and lacks luxury, but it’s cosy. She has a double bed in the middle of the room and a small wardrobe and chest of drawers against one of the walls. The bed is neatly made, contrasting strangely with the ankle-deep floordrobe. She shoves piles of clothes to the side with her foot as she wades through the room, creating a path for me to make my way in.
“I moved in last year. Honestly, I can’t afford the rent anywhere better right now, at least not on my own. But I’m notkeen on house-sharing with someone I don’t know. I don’t want to end up living with someone who’s a total slob, you know?”
I glance around at the mess in the room but decide not to point out the hypocrisy of what she’s just said.
“Didn’t you say you’re sharing a house with someone now?” she asks between gulps of wine.
I take a sip of my own and try not to pull a face as the cheap, acidic drink burns my throat when I swallow.
“Yeah, I moved into my friend’s room while she was away with work. She and her brother inherited the house when their dad died a couple of years ago, so they both lived there together in the interim. She’s actually not going to be coming back to live in the house now, though, so I’m thinking of staying there while I get my shit together.”
“So, you’re staying with your friend’s brother?” she asks over the rim of her glass.
“Yeah, Connor. He’s the guy who gave me a lift tonight.”
“Oh my God, Tilly! You lucky bitch!”
I laugh at her youthful reaction. “There’s nothing going on, we have separate rooms…”
“No wonder you’ve been looking happier these last few weeks.” She smirks, ignoring me completely. “You’ve been glowing.”
“I haven’t been glowing.” I roll my eyes at her, but I feel myself blush. It’s true that I’ve been feeling happier recently, genuinely content and not just masking my pain with a smile like I usually do.
“But youaresleeping with him? Because you can’t live under the same roof as someone who looks like that and not do something about it – I’m pretty sure it’s against the law.”
“I’m not sleeping with him. We’re just friends.”
Violet sighs and plants her hands on her hips. Shaking her head at me, she repeats the words she’s heard me tell thechildren in school countless times. “I’m not angry with you, I’m just disappointed.”
I laugh at her silliness and take another sip of what’s supposed to be wine but I’m pretty sure is vinegar dyed pink.
