Page 103 of The Man Upstairs

No. It was absurd. Absurd.

“Why won’t you do it?” she asked, reading me. “You could write it for fun, even if nobody ever sees it. I’d like to see it.”

“You’d like to read my filth as well as experience it?”

She nodded, her face like a dirty little angel.

“Maybe you could do me a scene a day? A reward for my college attendance.”

“Like a gold star?Good day at college, sweetheart, well done you. Here. Have an obscene chapter I wrote about you.”

“Yeah. That would be amazing.”

She was serious. She was genuinely serious.

“I love reading your stuff,” she said. “And I love romance. I love it all. What a hybrid.”

“I’ll quite willingly write filth for you, if you’d like that,” I told her, my heat taking hold. “I’ll write about all the seedy disgusting games I’d like to play with you, handing them over as an instruction manual when you walk in through the door. How about that?Here’s the chapter for the day, sweetheart. Spread your legs so I can stretch your tight little cunt wide and take photos of you gagged like a whore, here’s the screen play.”

My voice was low, or so I thought, but typically that was at the point the server arrived with our burgers on a tray, approaching from behind me. He nearly toppled the milkshakes onto the table, and Rosie was in hysterics, giggling her sweet little head off as he stumbled out some apologies and rushed away.

“Shit,” I said, but she was waving her hands, still finding it hilarious.

Her laugh was so beautiful it was intoxicating. It gave me more escapism than a whisky bottle. For once, I let pure humour embrace me, grateful that such a girl was lightening up the self-hate in my soul.

“Go on, then,” I said, as she sucked on her milkshake straw. “I’ll write you a scene to test it out, how about that?”

She nodded, still sucking. She swallowed with a smile.

“Thank you.”

Another thank you I didn’t need credit for.

The burger was crap, but I didn’t tell her that. I munched on fries, watching her munch on hers, and it occurred to me then that we could be anywhere. In the apartment, in a burger bar, in a park with sneers, or on a tropical beach. The location didn’t matter. My infatuation –love– for her would be enough to enjoy a walk across hot coals.

“I met a girl today at college,” she told me. “Lola. She came up to me in the library, and told me she’s been getting the same gossip and crap as me for over a year. She’s with a guy now who’s forty, and they live together. He was her neighbour from when they were young, everyone thought it was gross, like he’d been preying on her, when actually it was her after him. Just like it was with us.”

I still didn’t see it that way, but she had a point. There was no doubt that Rosie wanted me at least as equally as I wanted her. She’d been the one to charge into the apartment and suck on my thumb like a horny minx.

“Do they live in Crenham, too?”

“No. Dine’s Green.”

It was another cruddy estate with a close-knit community, as far as I’d heard. I could imagine the parallels.

“Did you like her? Lola?” I asked.

“She was great. Really cool. She’s an art student, studying digital. I think I’ll get on really well with her.” She paused. “Maybe you would, too.”

“Maybe I could meet her? And him, of course. We could go out on a double date sometime. What do you think? Me, you, Lola and her boyfriend.”

That thought was surprisingly appealing.Mutual friends. That could be something. I hadn’t considered friendship in any form since leaving Oxford.

I voiced what I thought was the obvious.

“Wouldn’t you be worried about me pursuing her, though? Another lovely college girl?”

Rosie looked at me like I was insane. “Should I be?”