Ella sighed as she lifted the pizza box out of the recycling and put it on the counter. Someone in the house was absolutely crap at recycling, but Ella really didn’t want to be that housemate. She started to pull apart an empty Cheerios box, before realising the plastic bag was still inside. She flattened it, along with a teabag box, pulled out some yoghurt cartons and put them in the bin (they hadn’t even been rinsed) and then opened the pizza box. There was still pizza in it. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and put the kettle on instead.
‘Ooh, are you brewing up?’ Issey said, joining Ella in the kitchen. She opened the fridge and just stood there, staring.
‘I’ll make a pot,’ Ella said.
‘Whose cheese is this?’ Issey asked.
‘Mine,’ Liane said from the doorway. ‘Touch it and I’ll kill you.’
‘Okeydoke,’ Issey said. ‘Is there any bread?’
She didn’t wait for an answer, just opened the bread bin and started to rummage. Ella focussed on putting teabags in the pot and milk in the mugs.
‘How was your day?’ Issey asked her, giving her a quick squeeze as she passed her, before sitting down at the breakfast bar with a slice of bread and jar of peanut butter. No plate.
‘Good,’ Ella said. ‘Long. Had two lectures and a seminar and a tutorial. My brain is burning. You?’
‘I caught my jumper on a shelf in the library and pulled a row of books down,’ Issey said through a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich. ‘Which was fucking mortifying. But then this boy – Mickael – came over and helped me pick them up. I think he does speak English, so he might not strictly count for the list, but he has a really strong accent and I couldn’t really understand anything he said so I’m counting him anyway. He asked me to meet him for a drink tomorrow. I think. It wasn’t entirely clear.’
‘Excellent,’ Liane said. ‘I blew Tom from my seminar in the loo. Does that count or does it have to be full sex?’
‘Jesus,’ said Issey.
‘Who’s Tom?’ Lou asked, joining them. ‘On the list, I mean. Greek waiter? Twice your age? In uniform?’
‘He’s in a band,’ Liane said. ‘They sound godawful, but still.’
‘I think it counts,’ Lou said. ‘Should we vote on it?’
‘Oh my god,’ Liane said, putting her head down on her arms on the table.
‘Oh, shut up,’ Ella said, sliding a mug of tea towards her. ‘It counts.’
‘Yay me!’ Liane said, sitting back up again and punching the air.
Lou put her hand out. ‘Tenner.’
The Fuck It List was stuck to the fridge with alphabet magnets that had come in someone’s cereal box, and they’d washed out an Illy coffee can with a screw-top lid for the cash.
‘Oh, shitballs,’ Liane said. ‘I forgot about that. I can’t believe I’ve got to pay a tenner for a blow job.’
She folded the note up and dropped it in the tin.
‘Did you at least get off too?’ Lou asked her.
‘Nope. Had to go to a seminar.’
‘A sexy seminar?’ Issey joked, waggling her eyebrows.
‘If you find performance management in the workplace sexy. Which I very much do not.’
‘Oh, I don’t know …’ Issey said. ‘It could be. Bend me over the desk and manage my performance …’
‘Christ,’ Lou said. ‘So Liane’s got the first tick then? No one else has anything to share?’
‘Paige might have,’ Ella said.
‘Where is she?’ Issey asked. ‘I’ve hardly seen her all week.’
‘Work, I think,’ Lou said, adding sugar to the tea Ella had passed her. ‘She’s always at work.’
‘We should go and see her,’ Issey said.
‘Can’t tonight,’ Liane said. ‘Massive essay. But yeah, we should.’
‘When does Paige do her uni work?’ Ella asked, moving the toaster so she could wipe the counter.
‘No idea. Never see her doing any,’ Liane said.
‘Maybe she can do some at the pub?’ Lou suggested. ‘I get some done at work sometimes. When it’s quiet.’
‘Yeah,’ Ella said. ‘Maybe.’ She rinsed the cloth under the tap and put it on the draining board, before turning to look at the other three. ‘Can I add someone to the list or is it too late?’
‘Ooh,’ Lou said. ‘Go on …’
‘I was just thinking maybe someone from a bookshop,’ Ella said.
‘Got someone in mind?’ Lou grinned. ‘Do you have sexy librarian fantasies? Actually, that does sound like you …’
‘Not a librarian,’ Ella said, straightening the toaster so she didn’t have to look at Lou. ‘A bookseller. Because we’re going to be spending a lot of time –’
‘And money,’ Liane interrupted.
‘And money – in bookshops, so I figured this would make it interesting.’
‘I like the way you think,’ Issey said. ‘Maximise our flirt hours.’
‘I think we should put “bookseller or librarian” though,’ Lou said. ‘Keep our options open.’
‘Or someone we met in a library …’ Issey suggested.
‘Fine,’ Ella said. ‘Not yours, Iz. That could basically be anyone.’
‘And he’s already covering “doesn’t speak English” anyway, no?’ Liane said.
‘S’pose.’ Issey stuck out her bottom lip and then curled it like Elvis.
‘You can do it, El,’ Lou said, gesturing at the list on the fridge.
So Ella did.
Liane went straight from uni to work for an evening shift at the supermarket – six ’til ten. She was on with Colette, who was her favourite. She was old enough to be Liane’s mum, but always up for a chat and a laugh.
‘Someone who’s been to jail?’ Colette said, leaning her elbows on the counter and craning her neck out over the store. ‘Think that’s probably your best bet here, tbh.’
‘Did you really just say “tbh”?’ Liane asked her. She was crouching down under the counter, looking for the box of paper receipt rolls she knew was under there, but couldn’t seem to find. She looked up at Colette.
‘I did, yeah,’ Colette said. ‘And don’t even start. I’ve had our Owen telling me I’m too old to say “fam”, too old to listen to fuckin’ Lady Gaga, too old to wear thigh-high boots.’
Liane stood up and smiled at Colette. ‘You’re not too old for any of that. Don’t listen to Owen.’
‘I never do, love. Hey, he’s got a tattoo – he any good to you?’
Liane crouched back down and knelt in front of the cabinet so she could reach in further. ‘I don’t think so, Col. Thanks, though.’
‘Hey, he’s not a bad catch,’ Colette said. ‘I mean, he’s not a good catch. And you might actually catch something …’ As she laughed at her own joke about her own son, Liane reached behind a roll of blue paper and screamed as her hand touched something furry.
Liane pulled her hand out of the cupboard and looked at it. She didn’t even know what she was looking for. Maybe a flashing light that said ‘you just accidentally touched a dead rat’. She shuddered, took a deep breath, and finally pulled the roll of paper out of the cupboard.
‘What about him?’ Colette said, pointing at a guy standing in front of the chiller cabinet looking puzzled.
‘Is it because he’s black?’ Liane asked, biting the inside of her mouth to stop herself smiling.
‘Oh my god!’ Colette shrieked, as Liane had known she would. ‘No! You know I’m not like that. He’s cute. He comes in here a lot. Although …’ She stared over at him, frowning. ‘He did buy condoms once.’
‘Stop talking now,’ Liane said.
The boy came over, carrying two tubs of Ben & Jerry’s: one Caramel Chew Chew and one Phish Food.
‘Can I ask your advice?’ he said, once he was in front of them.
‘Not me, love,’ Colette said. ‘I’ve got to nip to the ladies. You’ll be all right on your own, Liane, yeah?’
‘Fine, yeah, thanks,’ Liane said through gritted teeth. She was going to kill her.
Colette lightly slapped Liane’s bum on her way past and then disappeared through the door to the staff room.
‘Which one of these is nicer?’ the boy asked.
‘Caramel Chew Chew or Phish Food?’ Liane said, redundantly. It wasn’t as if he was asking her about his hands. They were both nice, although one had a wide silver ring on the middle finger. She probably liked that one better.
‘I like them both, actually,’ Liane said. ‘But Phish Food is my favourite. Caramel Chew Chew can be a bit too … caramelly.’
The boy smiled and his face transformed. He was cute before, but smiling made him quite ridiculously gorgeous. Liane mentally ran through the Fuck It List – she couldn’t see any tattoos, didn’t think he’d been on reality TV, hoped he hadn’t been in prison, maybe he was a waiter? – but then she realised she was being ridiculous. She could go out with him, list or no list.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Too caramelly could be a problem, I guess.’
‘Phish Food has more variety,’ Liane said, glancing towards the door and saying a little prayer that no more customers would come in. ‘You’ve got caramel in there too. But you’ve also got marshmallow. And the little fish.’
‘Everyone likes the little fish,’ he said, turning the tub of Phish Food around in his hand.
‘I think so,’ Liane said. ‘Only a monster wouldn’t.’
The boy laughed. ‘You’re right. I’ll get the Phish Food.’
He put the tub in front of Liane and took the Caramel Chew Chew back to the freezer, putting it back exactly where he’d got it from. Liane shouldn’t have been impressed – it was basic good manners, obviously – but she’d spent enough time tidying people’s shit in the store that it was a definite point in his favour.
‘So,’ he said, arriving back at the till.
‘Thanks for that,’ Liane said, nodding at the freezer.
‘Oh right,’ he said. ‘No problem.’
He was staring at her. And she stared back. Should she just go for it and ask him out? Or maybe she should wait and see if he was going to ask her.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Can I …’
Liane swallowed hard. ‘Yeah. I was just going to –’
‘I don’t want it to melt,’ he said, with an apologetic little shrug.
‘Oh, fuck,’ Liane said, and then clamped one hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry. You didn’t hear that. Shit. Sorry!’
He was laughing again. And he had dimples.
‘God,’ Liane said. ‘I’m sorry. That’s four pounds. And do you need a bag?’
‘Is card OK?’ he asked. ‘And yes to a bag, please.’
‘It’ll be four pound five then, is that OK?’ Liane said. Like an idiot. She wanted to crawl into the cupboard under the counter, dead rats and all.
He nodded and Liane realised he was still holding out his card. She couldn’t see the card machine so she took his card off him, which they weren’t supposed to do. God, what if he was from Head Office and this was a test. She’d failed miserably. She found the card machine and pushed his card in, glancing at his name before handing the whole thing to him.
He put his number in while she found a bag and then there was nothing left to do.
‘Thanks for your help,’ he said, taking the bag.
‘No problem,’ Liane said. ‘Let me know how it goes.’
He grinned. ‘I will.’
And then he left.
‘So?’ Colette said, slamming back through the door practically before he was out of sight.
Liane shushed her.
‘Did he ask you out? Did you ask him out? Are you going to eat the ice cream together with two spoons like Lady and the Tramp?’
‘None of the above,’ Liane said. ‘I made a tit out of myself.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ Colette said, hip-checking her. ‘And even if you did, I bet he didn’t care. You’re gorgeous.’
‘Hmm,’ Liane said. She didn’t feel gorgeous. Not in her supermarket uniform, a scarf tied round her hair. She had make-up on, at least.
‘Did you get his name?’ Colette asked, heading back to her own till.
‘Yep,’ Liane said. ‘Alfie.’
‘Well, there you go,’ Colette said. ‘That’s a start.’
It was, Liane thought. It was a start.