Seventeen-year old first year college student Josie Clarke would prefer not to blush the colour crimson at every little thing, but Idiopathic Craniofacial Erythema, a chronic facial condition doesn't play fair.
In fact, it's as uncontrollable...
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"Josephine darling, it really is quite important that you come downstairs."
I continue to ignore my mum and toss out the third pair of winter boots I've been hoarding in the depths of my wardrobe.
Behind on my bed piles of school yearbooks court Art class coursework, alongside clothes I haven't worn since I was six, that my mum won't let me chuck out because she gets way too sentimental about them.
"Darling, please can you come-"
"I'm getting ready!" I call out, fumbling for the sandals I've spent the last twenty minutes trying to locate. Ones that go best with my denim shorts and flannel shirt borrowed from the box marked Car Boot that's sat in our shed for the last three years.
With some last minute fussing over the state of my hair (unruly and more or less bog coloured since the hair dye faded out), I fire off a quick apology to Max for running late and gather my backpack.
My phone bleeps whilst I do a last minute check, before today's practice and before I make my speedy escape away from my mother, to the safety of Max's car, which has been idling for far too long outside of my house.
"Josephine, answer me!"
"NOT NOW MUM!" I swallow back the feeling of annoyance and how loudly my voice rips through.
"But you have a visit-"
I slam my bedroom door, taking the steps two at a time as I race down in sandals that slip under my sweaty soles. Swinging my backpack over a shoulder, I use the momentum to launch myself off the last step.
When I land with a solid thud, I slap a hand on the bannister post and without looking at her I say, "Why are you being so bloody annoying today? Look mum, I don't really have time for this, alright?"
Now, normally I would never talk to her like this, or with what dad calls 'too much lip' but a trifecta of stress, poor time management and nerves for the day ahead make it so.
And by the time I catch my mum in the kitchen giving me the eyes and Max's giving a look of mixed amusement, it's too late to take any of it back.
His jaw goes all tense when I choke out his name and a flurry of fiery blush begins to pierce my cheeks.
"I saw this poor fella waiting outside in his car for you. He's been there for half an hour Josephine," Mum says, tutting a little. "And in this heat! That's why I couldn't help but invite him in for something to drink."
Max side eyes me and mouths the word hey and then he goes back to looking suitably awkward.
"My apologies, Josephine is not normally this... rude."
