I'm a stripper, doesn't mean I'm a slut

Puddy cats

We finally come to a stop, pulling up at my apartment block.

"Never. Again." I say as I shakily pry my grip off of James' back and gingerly get off the motorbike. "I bet we made at least ten speeding violations back there."

"Haha, very funny." James says dryly. "So, is this it?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at my apartment.

"Yeah." I say as I shakily take off my helmet. "You couldn't have managed to stick to the speed limit for at least part of the way here?"

He laughs. "As I said, it's funnier this way. I love making you squirm."

I glare at him and stomp towards my apartment, a no doubt smug-looking James following after me.

As I walk towards my apartment, I start to have the most peculiar sensation of seeing it in another's point of view. For some reason, James' presence suddenly makes me feel very subconscious of my home.

The shabby paint job looked tacky and outdated in the late afternoon light. I remember back to the flawless creamy white walls of James' house, the perfectly trimmed hedges and rose bushes, the lush green lawn and can't help but compare it to the peeling paint of my apartment building, the boarded up windows, the creepy alleyways and cheap greasy takeout shops lining the street.

I suddenly feel ashamed.

I've lived in basic poverty for so long that my life in my parents house, where I didn't have to worry about where my next meal was coming from, or if I had enough money for the rent that month seems like a whole lifetime ago.

I'd just felt so proud that I had managed to survive on my own without the help of my parents' money, or maids or cleaners that I'd forgotten that in comparison to my old life and my giant house and seemingly endless supply of money, that my life here was pretty pathetic.

And my life now compared to James'? How embarrassing.

I open up the front door to the apartment, not bothering to check if James is following me. I climb up the staircase, three steps at a time (the elevator's been out of order since before I moved here) and stop at apartment 2B.

I look down and rustle through my satchel bag to find my keys, my bangs getting into my face. I glance up quickly to find James standing next to me, awkwardly looking around at his surroundings. I breathe out sharply, I grab them and fumble, stuffing the right one into the keyhole of my front door.

"Home sweet home." I say dryly as I open the front door and kick the fly screen door out of the way (the hinges are all rusted so it sticks a lot).

"It's ... nice." he says hesitantly as he gingerly walks into my flat.

I turn around and raise an eyebrow at him. He looks so obviously out of place in my flat, dressed in expensive designer clothes, flawless hair, looking too large and too clean to fit into my filthy cramped apartment - like a fish out of water. He looks so awkward - a contrast to his usual comfortable stance as he saunters through school like he owns the place (which he does in a way I guess).

I snort. "You can say it's a shit hole - you don't have to lie." I say as I throw my jacket onto the kitchen counter.

He cracks a smile. "Okay - it's a fucking shit hole."

I raise an eyebrow. "No need for the profanity."

As James continues to look like a stunned mullet, gazing around my flat, I spy a note left on the kitchen counter next to my jacket. I pick it up.

"Left for work. Remember to eat dinner! Love Lois xoxo P.S check on Freddie for me :) thanks ur the best, K"

"Stay there." I say to James, still gazing around my shitty apartment like it's part of another universe. "I need to check on something."