Scored in Love (Wattys2015)

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Cafes are my haven. Whenever I’m having a sh!tty day, I can always rely on a good dose of caffeine to pick-me up. Expressos. Cappuccinos. Lattes. Mochas. You name it — I drink it. I’m a coffee fiend. I’ve been drinking coffee since I was nine — Dad gave up on trying to wean me off it. 

If I went to a Coffeeholics Anonymous group, I’d say loud and proud that “I’m a coffee addict. What are you going to do about it, b!tches?” Then I’d go back to a cafe afterwards and order a macchiato. 

* * *

“Do you think I’m a slvt?” Gina says suddenly.

She’s flicking through a copy of Teen Vogue. Her coffee is getting colder by the minute. Outside the snow is falling in large white clumps. Milky snow transforms vehicles into snowcars. 

“Huh?” I empty a sachet of sweetener into my coffee cup. 

“Am I a slvt, Amelie?” 

What should I say to that? Well…

“Uh…”

“Just be completely honest with me,” Gina takes a sip of her coffee.

Might as well admit it. She did ask… “Technically you are.” 

She looks up from her magazine and grins thoughtfully. “Yeah, I am. That’s true…” 

Uh-oh. Gina’s back to her old ways. “Don’t tell me you’re being a serial slvt again, Gina.”

“Serial slvt — I like that,” she samples the phrase carefully as if she’s savouring a fine vintage, “Yeah, I’ve slept with seven boys this past week.”

I can’t say I’m surprised. Boys are like ice cream flavours to Gina — she has to taste them all. If she doesn’t have her daily boy-fix, she gets irritable. Then Marie and I have to put up with all her sh!t.

“Are you crazy? What about Nicolas, Florian and the other guy?”

“You mean Lukas?” Gina has a fantastic memory, I’ll give her that.

“I’ve lost track of all their names…”

“They’re all clueless.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t found out by now.”

She starts to draw a moustache on a photo of Kate Moss (Gina is anti-Kate). “Most are stupid. They each believe I’m their girlfriend…”

“Ten different boyfriends — that’s a record…”

Her eyes brighten. “I never get bored, Amelie. Why don’t you come with me next Saturday? Loosen up a bit.”

“Never going to happen…” I ruffle her hair.

“Party poop—fvck!” she sticks her tongue out and bites it in the process.

Gina’s eyes widen and her face pales.

“What?”

“That guy…” she whispers. 

I follow her panicked gaze to two guys who’ve just entered the cafe. They’re waiting for their drinks by the till. I smile widely — what a delightful coincidence!

I know. I’m naturally evil. She doesn’t like to see more of her countless “boyfriends” than necessary — Gina gets agitated. “What guy? Hey, there’s Florian! Let’s call him over—”