Living With Boys

one // emo road

"You sent all my stuff to 14 Emo Road, right?" I said into the phone. "If I get there today and have no underwear, I will not be happy."

I stood outside the domestic airport terminal with my phone pressed to my ear. It was cooler in Melbourne than it had been in Sydney, especially as the sun lowered toward the horizon and the breeze lifted the ends of my hair and whipped them into my face.

I had a small bag with me, filled with the bare essentials—a toothbrush, one change of clothes, my laptop and a slutty romance book—the remnants of my life in Zara's apartment. Everything else had been boxed up and shipped down, due to arrive at Will's (and, I supposed, now my) humble abode this afternoon.

Because, as it turned out, the threat of poverty outweighed my conviction to avoid Will Kennedy for the rest of my life.

"Yes, I did," said Zara. Her voice echoed in the cavernous space that had been my living room only a few days ago. Goodbye, gorgeous giant house. "Though, speaking of underwear. All of yours were ugly, so I did throw them out and buy you new ones. You don't get to live in a house with that many hotties and have heinous underwear."

I laughed. This wasn't at all true. My taste in underwear was famously scandalous; I liked to spend my money on extravagant and pretty things, maybe because I'd never had anything of the kind growing up.

This perhaps contributed to the current state of my bank account.

Zara, on the other hand, was constitutionally practical about almost everything. The last thing she'd ever care about was the state of my negligée. She hadn't thrown a single pair out, but I was almost certain I'd find some extra sets from one of my online shopping carts milled in with the myriad of colourful sets I already owned. I knew this gesture for what it really was; it was Zara's version of I'll miss you.

"None of the hotties will be seeing my underwear," I told Zara. "So, I hope you didn't buy them for their benefit."

I could imagine Zara's pout. "Not even Jamie?"

Jameson had always been Zara's favourite. He was one of Will's roommates, and a member of my brother's—and, once, my—high school friend group. He was also an incorrigible flirt and, apparently, his tendency for tardiness had not been fixed since our high school days either. Kai's text this morning had let me know that Jameson was to be my ride to Emo Road, but I'd been waiting outside the terminal for twenty minutes now, with no sign of any flashy sports car that could belong to Jamie.

"I do have a boyfriend, remember?" I asked.

Barney's life was travel and gigs around the country, and he didn't seem to mind that I was moving to Melbourne. He was content to visit every few months, with a promise that he would follow me anywhere I decided to go. The sentiment filled me with warmth. He would follow me anywhere, because he loved me.

And now I could imagine Zara's scowl. "Well, I certainly didn't buy you cute underwear for his benefit."

"Good," I said, ignoring her precedented comment about Barney. There was no point in defending him; Zara's mind was made up. "I only wear pretty underwear for my own benefit. And yours, of course, when I need to flash some cheek and seduce you so that you'll buy me dinner."

Zara made a faint sound of amusement through the phone. "Well, darling, if you come home and flash me both cheeks, we'll call that even on rent for this month and I can have you back with me again."

I sighed, and let my head fall back against the wall. It was probably covered in bird shit, but hey, so was the rest of my shitshow life.

The idea of moving back in with Zara—taking advantage of her endless generosity—was so tempting. I wanted nothing more than to collapse on our couch with glasses of wine in hand and 10 Things I Hate About You on the TV, laughing at the fact I'd ever considered moving away from her into a house filled with dudes.