Page 99 of The Man Upstairs

“You live with your partner now? And he’s forty, right?”

She nodded with a grin. “Yeah. My mum thinks I’m a twat. Won’t speak to him. It’ll be a year next month.”

I laughed. “Yeah, mine thinks I’m a twat, too.”

I prayed it wouldn’t be a year until Mum spoke to me and Julian, but I wasn’t feeling all that optimistic.

Lola didn’t push or pry or anything, just sat next to me, unassuming as she switched on her laptop. The backdrop on her screen was incredible. Vivid colours and flowers intertwined with her name in the middle in italics. I looked at her afresh, and she was quite a character. She had three different piercings in her ears, and her braid had a yellow ribbon at the bottom. She was cool, in a purple sweater, and her glasses suited her, with their thick black frames.

“I’m really pleased to meet you,” I said to her again. “Honestly, thanks for coming over.”

It felt great to talk to someone outside of me and Julian who actually got it. She told me all about her situation. Her guy, Peter, sounded pretty cool. He was a neighbour who she’d known since she was a teenager and had been crushing on for years before she managed to get in through his front door. He’d fought it, like Julian. He loved her now, like Julian loved me. And they’d embraced it – despite all the bitching, and the gossiping, and the judgements, they were holding hands together wherever they went.

Peter was still struggling, though, even through the hand holding. He still felt the wrath of people when they ventured out, hating how they were judging her as well as him.

“He still feels it?” I asked.

“Yeah, badly. It’s ok, but I’m hoping it eases up.” She grinned. “I’d love to be hitting the town for meals out, I’d be happy and wouldn’t give a shit. But he’s weird about it. I think he still believes he’s in the wrong.”

That sounded familiar.Being in the wrong.

I wanted me and Julian out of that kind of situation. I wanted to be holding hands in public with him, and out in the city, out with himeverywhere.

One day, I hoped that we would be. One day soon.

We were still chatting when lunch came to an end, realising with a jolt that we had to shoot off for our next lessons. Lola had further to go than I did, over to the art block. She virtually dashed out of there with abyeee, her satchel bouncing against her ass as she ran.

Meeting her was amazing, but it made the contrast with the other assholes out to jeer at me much more pronounced.

I managed to stumble my way through my next lessons in some kind of order, leaving college as quickly as I could, but the guys from block seven were outside the 24-hour garage, smoking and drinking on the bench. I crossed the street, but it didn’t make any difference. They let out a wolf whistle and yelled over as passers-by looked on.

“Didn’t think you were such a cheap little hooker,” Marlow yelled. “Come over here. We’ll give you a better fuck than that old man.”

“Come on!” Dane shouted as I carried on walking. “We’ll make you way more of a slut than he will.”

“Wouldn’t want to be seen out with Grandpa, would you?” Marlow laughed. “Best keep him hidden in the seedy den, eh?”

I’d never stood up to the idiots before, not once, but my levels of rage had taken enough. My legs were trembling but they carried me, fuelled. I crossed the street and walked up to them.

“I’m not embarrassed about being with Julian. You’re the fucking embarrassments. Like anyone will ever give a shit about you. You’re nothing but losers.”

They weren’t expecting it from me. Hardly anyone ever stood up to them, and I felt a weird sense of strength as I saw their discomfort, which said it all. The fear and rumours around them were likely just as bullshit as everything else around here. Maybe they were just little pricks with an inferiority complex and nowhere else to go. Sad.

They scoffed some more, shouting obscenities as I left them behind, but I didn’t care. None of it mattered. All that mattered was my newfound backbone and the man I loved waiting upstairs for me.

He was straight over to the door as soon as I stepped inside, green eyes searching mine for my reaction.

“Are you ok, sweetheart? Did it go ok?”

I nodded, with a surprising smile. “Yeah, it did.”

“I’m putting dinner on,” he told me. “We have fillet steak.”

I took hold of his arm before he turned away, fuelled even more by the urge to rebel against the world outside.

“That’s great, thank you,” I said. “I’m spoiled. But how about we go out first? Even just for a walk?”

His eyebrows pitted. “You want to go out?”