The leaves crunched beneath my feet as I walked through the woods over the road from my house, a half smoked spliff between my index and middle fingers. I had one headphone in, and I was blasting some shit indie music, bopping my head to the beat. Stoke was miserable at this time of year, fuck it was miserable at any time of year; all of my friends had gone off to university, and I'd stayed behind to clean hotel rooms and work in a club to save up enough money to fuck off to Australia for a year. University was on the cards, I just wasn't ready for it yet, much to the dismay of my grandmother and mother; my dad was understanding, but cancer had taken him and left me under the scrutiny of the two pestering hags.
"You know you really piss me off when you zone out like that," my best friend George said as he took the spliff out of my fingers and relit it. I rolled my eyes before pulling out my headphone and shoving it in my coat pocket, giving him a sarcastic smile before lighting a cigarette as we reached the bench at the top of the hill. I flopped down, flicking the ash off of my fag as I leant back and looked at George. "I was asking if you still wanted to come to Manchester with me at the weekend."
"You know full well I'd rather be on the fucking moon than in that house, of course I want to come with you." He chuckled before stumping out the spliff and flicking it away, lighting his own cigarette before joining me on the bench, and we stared at the view of the lit up city. "I fucking hate this place, I might just not come back."
"I know man, to be fair, there's a spare room in the flat, so maybe you could join us. I think a house of four lads would need a gal in there just to keep us grounded," he said with a chuckle, but the look I gave him was deadly serious.
"Genuinely, could I? I'll get a job and pay my way, I don't mind paying extra if it means I get away," I said, and he smiled, nodding.
"Trust me, I don't think I could be away from you anyway." I pouted before resting my head on his shoulder. I sighed, thinking about how I'd pack all my stuff and move up to Manchester. "We're borrowing my dad's van, Ross is driving, so I'll get him to come pick you up tomorrow morning. I know you, even if your mum refuses to let you out the front door you'll chuck your shit out the window and come anyway." I nodded, my heart soaring at the fact my best friend knew me so well. "I'm sure Ross won't mind stopping at Ikea to get you some shit too, I know you got a lot saved."
We stayed sitting on the bench until it went dark, and decided to head home to avoid unnecessary arguments with our parents. We had lived next door to each other for nearly fifteen years, moving in on the same day and becoming best friends straight away, despite the four year age gap. I was now twenty, George twenty four, and we had spent every day together and never got bored.
"Good luck kiddo," he said, and I rolled my eyes before going inside.
"Where've you been? I've been ringing you for the past half an hour," my mum said as soon as I got in. I sighed.
"I was sorting stuff with George for tomorrow, we've got to pick the keys up at twelve so we're heading out early," I said, slipping it in that I was moving in the most discreet way possible. She furrowed her eyebrows. "You can't say no, I'm twenty, I'm an adult. I've had enough of this city and this house and I want out, end of." She sucked in her lips, before nodding curtly.
"I was expecting it as soon as Jenny told me George was moving. I knew you'd follow him like a little dog, the way you have been for years." My jaw dropped slightly and I shook my head before going upstairs, grabbing a huge suitcase from the attic room, lugging it down to my box room before packing the little things I owned. I rolled all my clothes and managed to fill the suitcase, deciding to put my sentimental items in a cardboard box and then all my necessaries in my bag. After two hours, my room was stripped bare to bone, just my furniture and bedding remained. I went downstairs and endured a long lecture from my mum about not drinking, doing drugs, sleeping around, how to maintain my finances and to not rely on George to provide everything for me. I rolled my eyes more times than I could count. The phone rang, and my mum answered.
"Yeah she's here, I'm telling you now George if you don't look after her I swear to god..." her voice trailed off, and I furrowed my eyebrows, waiting for her response, "... just fucking look after her." She handed me the phone, George screaming in excitement at the fact that I was coming with him to start a new chapter in our lives, together.
-
The next morning, I was woken by George shouting in my ear and I groaned before reluctantly getting up and ready, despite the fact it was half six in the morning and I usually wasn't awake for another two hours. George had already taken my stuff downstairs, and I had a very stiff goodbye from my mum.
"I'll ring you when I get there." She nodded, looking away from me before George took my hand and we walked to the van where Ross was waiting. I got in the middle seat before George squeezed in and we drove off, my mum standing at the bottom of the drive with her arms crossed. I bit the inside of my lip, too many emotions spinning round my head. George passed me a lit cigarette and I thanked him before using an empty takeaway coffee cup as an ashtray. We drove for about an hour before reaching Ikea, glad we'd come so early as it was just opening when we arrived. I knew exactly what I needed, but also knew that it would be a long trip considering how much I needed.
After buying a bed, a duvet, four pillows, bedding, blankets, cushions, too many plants, pots, two clothing rails, coat hangers, plastic boxes, a desk, acrylic makeup organisers, a chair, a rug, a chest of drawers, a laundry basket, a cuddly dog, four shelves, a floor lamp, a desk lamp, a halogen heater and two mirrors, George was fed up and Ross was acting like Kevin McCloud. We celebrated fitting everything into the van with a plate of Swedish meatballs, mash and gravy and a piece of Daim cake.
"I can't believe one person needs so much furniture," George said as he popped his twenty fourth meatball into his mouth.
"You know we're gonna have to come back in order to get everything else for the place don't you? Furnishing a home takes more than one trip," Ross said, mixing his coffee before sipping it.
"Oh Jesus, I don't think I can hack another hour in this place," George groaned and I laughed before his phone rang, and I focused on my cake as George cackled down his phone. He hung up, smiled and jumped up. "We better get a move on, lots of furniture to build and we've gotta show our lass round Manchester!" I rolled my eyes before we left the building and got in the van, starting the short drive to Salford.
"George you said it was a flat," I said as we pulled up on the kerb. He winked before we got out and stood on the pavement, looking up. The house was beautiful; it was four stories yet narrow, painted black with a black front door with a golden knocker, and black framed windows. There were ivy plants trailing all the way to the top floor, and more plants wrapped around the black railings that created a miniscule front garden, upon which were the wheelie bins. Beautiful flowers in hundreds of shades of pink filled big bulky window boxes that were outside the windows, and a bright yellow bicycle was tied up in front of the house. "This is incredible."
"The bike's for you, for when you go to work. Your mum said you didn't like taking public transport and it's even worse round here than it is in Stoke," George said, and I pouted before jumping on him and giving him a huge hug. "Let's go and have a brew and a look round then we can get started on your unpacking." I nodded before we headed in, the smell of incense, burnt coffee and weed hitting my nose and I smiled; I'd forgotten that George had two other housemates, who were evidently stoner hippies who liked to drink black coffee. He whistled and footsteps came down the stairs, and I felt my heart skip a little in my chest.
"You must be Elle, I'm Adam," the tallest one said, and I smiled as I shook his hand and took in his appearance; he had a kind face with a short beard, and was wearing a pale blue sweatshirt rolled up at the sleeves and skinny black jeans. His eyes sparkled as he shook my hand back before heading through a door on the right. The other guy was slightly shorter, but even more beautiful. Black curls and deep brown eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as he noticed me checking him out; he was wearing a similar sweatshirt but his was a mustard yellow, but his legs were adorned with black skinny jeans, odd socks on his feet.
"Matty."
