Eve & Lucy Ch. 03: Off set

"And...?" She leans forward and strokes my arm. "Babe, I'm not just interested in sex. We can just hang out, get to know each other better. I barely know anyone here."

"What about those guys you were with yesterday?" I'm dredging the barrel for excuses here. It must suck being away from her friends. I mean, she is really attractive too. Why not see her again?

"Jayson's ok, but his boyfriend Pete is a prick. I wouldn't have gone out mid-week but it was his birthday. Thank God it's Jayson in the office and not the other way around. I'd much rather your company." She pouts at me. "So, can I get your number, gorgeous?"

Oh, why not! Maybe I can introduce her to the girls. Make her feel a bit less isolated. We swap numbers and then she disappears with her coffee to get dressed. I sip my tea and take a look around. The kitchen slash diner slash lounge is another straight-out-of-IKEA Marie Kondo worshipping minimalist monstrosity. No personality at all - so at odds with her vibrancy. Well, I guess this is a short term rental or something. Some things she said are coming back to me now - she works at the Ministry of Justice? She's on a project aiming to boost the number of convictions in rape case? That woman Melissa got really excited while she was telling us about it in the pub. Pretty cool thing for Lucy to be doing really.

She strides back in wearing a pencil skirt, blouse and jacket. She's wearing a basic foundation by the looks of things, and her hair is up in a bun. Gone is the wild, smiley party chick I met yesterday; in her place is a smooth, efficient looking business woman. While I'm stunned she managed that all so quickly, it is definitely less alluring. But then maybe that's the point? "Hey beautiful, your Uber's here."

And suddenly, she's hustling me out, opening doors and kissing me into the car. "See you tomorrow Amanda!" She blows me a kiss and she's off.

The ride back is short, the driver mercifully taciturn. I text Keke and Baz asking if I can skip the rehearsal tonight. Not really feeling physically up to it.

I front up to the girls, walking normally and managing not to wince. I don't want to concern them or make them question my plans to see Lucy again tomorrow. I mean, the more I think about it, the more I think it wasn't really her fault. I could have told her to stop. So I enthuse through their questions, then beg a hangover as an excuse for getting into my pjs and crashing out. I've got a lecture later, but may just skip it. I've already picked my final essay title for English, on Caryl Churchill, and the topic today isn't going to be relevant.

After a snooze and some lunch, I start feeling better, though I don't bother getting dressed. The soreness is wearing off. I no longer feel the need to walk bow-legged for comfort. Baz messages me, and tells me they'll do bits of Act 3 that I'm not needed for, so that's that solved. I get some work done on my essay; I love Churchill's blend of humour and brutal realism. God, I wish we could have done Top Girls! The parts are so rich.

Lydia gets in and we go and hang out in Samantha''s room, sitting on her bed reading, while she works at the desk. I'm going to miss this.

At 5 exactly Samantha's alarm goes off. "I'm going to start cooking. I am going to make potato gratin with nut roast. Would you both like some?"

"Of course babe. Thank you. Can I come and help, like, chop ingredients?"

So I'm peeling potatoes while Samantha tells us a funny story about last night. Apparently as they were leaving, the doorman at The Queen Shilling asked Sarah why she'd want to bring a blind and deaf person to a nightclub, and he jumped in shock when Samantha replied.

Then my phone starts ringing. I don't recognise the number.

"Hello. Amanda Richards speaking?"

"Um, hi, er, you don't know me, but I'm Carrie's brother, Cameron?"

"Hi. Is she ok?" I realise that I've barely thought about Carrie since I got home.

"Yeah, yeah, she's cool."

"How's your mum?"

"Oh right, you know about that? Yeah, she's fine, I think. Just got a cast on her arm. Piss- annoyed 'cos she won't be able to work for a few weeks."

"Oh good." This is weird, but ok.

"Anyway, I'm calling because it's Carrie's birthday next week, on Wednesday and we're going to do a surprise party for her. We were hoping you'd be able to come?"

Okay, wow, how did I not know that? Why didn't she say anything? I guess those guards still aren't down. "Um, hang on, I'll have to check." It's Easter holidays next week, but we'd all agreed to stay in Bristol and enjoy the end of our time together. But I'm not sure if I want to see Carrie more than I need to.

"Well, it would be so cool if you could. She talks about you all the time, so it would be an awesome surprise for her."

What? Ok, fuck, now I feel bad for her.

"It'll be at our house in Lawrence Weston."

"I don't know, like, where that is, but I can find out. What time?"

"Evening? Six pm ok? If you want, Dad can pick you up?"

"Oh don't worry. I mean, there must be, like, a bus?"

"Yeah, the number 4 goes into town."

"Ok, that's cool."

"Listen, would you know any other friends of Carrie's we could invite? I'm hoping that as you're her bestie you know some of the others."

What?! I'm her bestie? Since when? I really want to ask, but, like, I can't. "Um... I don't know. I mean, like, it's the Easter holidays from this weekend, so, like, lots of people will be going away, you know? I can message her friends from drama, but, I mean, I don't know her friends from her course, I've only, like, met them a couple of times and I don't, like, have their numbers." I'm lying, but somehow I don't want to burst his bubble that his big sister has friends. I mean, if I'm who he considers her best friend, maybe she doesn't.

"Oh, thanks, that's great!"

"Can you message me the address?"

"Yep, I'll do that now. Thanks so much Amanda. Mum will be thrilled you can come. She's a big fan of yours. We're all really looking forward to seeing you in the next play."

"Awww, thanks!" Wait, is he flirting with me? Gulp! Shit, he's going to see me naked. "Right, like, thanks for calling Cameron. I'm looking forward to it. I won't say anything to Carrie either."

"Thanks. Bye!"

"What was that about?" Lydia asks.

I explain.

"Fuck. That's... sad actually."

"I know! I mean, she's never really tried to, like, integrate with the rest of the Dramsoc crew despite being the star. But still, that her family, like, thinks I'm her closest friend, that's beyond tragic, you know?"

"Perhaps this is similar to the time when I did not realise that you were my friends; perhaps you haven't realised that Carrie sees you as one? I had a different point of reference for friendship - Sarah - and therefore I was unable to see you two, Keith and Louise as being in the same category. Maybe Carrie doesn't have the same experience of friendship as you do."

"Yeah, you could be right Samantha. It's sad really."

"True. So what are you going to do?" Lydia asks.

I think about who in the cast might be considered Carrie's friends. "Hmmm. Well, you know, Suzy, Keke, Haile, Chen and Baz were all, like, involved in either Streetcar or Twelfth Night, so they sort of know her as well as I do."

"They've seen her naked too, have they?"

I don't dignify that with a response, just swat her with a tea towel.

"Like, James was also involved in Streetcar, but he's such a dickhead, you know so I'm not inviting him."

"No dickheads. Good call."

"Jenny and Sasha were in Twelfth Night. I think they are, like, second years now, so they'll still be around. Worth a shot?"

"Go for it." Lydia smiles at me. "Seriously, Amanda, you are pretty wonderful. Organising a birthday party for the girl who ruthlessly slept with you and then turned you away. I'm not sure you'd catch me doing that."

"Aw thanks Lids. No Ruths were involved. Hey, can I be, like, pretty and wonderful?"

"Definitely!"

I set up a Whatsapp group called Carrie's secret birthday, but then decide not to send out anything until later. Half of them will be at rehearsal with her now, so probably not the most subtle time to be sending things.

Now, what to do about a birthday present?

It comes to me quickly. I'll just need to get something first... though I think I saw what I need in a St Peter's Hospice shop the other day. Hopefully, it'll still be there.

Louise is back in time for food. Sarah's working again. It's all very companionable, and we stay in the sitting area chatting long after the meal and the washing up is done. Even Samantha stays, after we insist, and I summon up my courage to ask a question I've been curious about for months now.

"Um... Samantha, can I, like, ask you a personal question?"

"Oh. Yes of course you can, Amanda. I can always decide not to answer it."

"Yeah and, like, don't if you feel... um... if this... er... Have you and Sarah, ever, like, used a strap on?"

"Oh. Yes."

Right, of course, she gives very precise answers.

"Um... cool, cool. I mean, like, do you..."

Louise interrupts. "Why do you want to know Amanda? Are you planning on buying one?" When I don't say anything, she squeals. "You are?!" She claps her hand over her mouth. "Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to mock. Sorry, that was insensitive."

"It's ok. I mean, like, maybe? I'm not sure."

"Would it be helpful if I showed you ours Amanda?"

"Er... I mean, do you mind?"

In answer, Samantha goes into her room and comes out carrying a box, the kind you can slide under the bed.

The next half an hour or so is hands down one of the weirdest of my life. It's like an Anne Summers party (well, what I imagine an Anne Summers party is like) being hosted by an anally retentive engineering professor. Thankfully, there aren't any butt plugs.

Me, Lydia and Louise just watch agog as Samantha pulls cock after cock after cock out of the box. Some are super realistic, others barely resemble a penis. Some are clearly meant for two to enjoy simultaneously, while others have little attachments, the purpose of which Samantha explains in excruciating detail, occasionally holding them against her body to demonstrate. Some, it seems, are designed specifically for use in certain positions, whereas others are more versatile. Most, I note, seem of a reasonable size, although there is one very large one.

"Oh my God, that, like, looks like it would hurt!"

"Oh, yes, you are probably right. I bought that early on in our sexual relationship, before I had any idea about the volume of Sarah's vagina and her preferences as regards penetration. We have never used it." She pauses. "On reflection, I realise that I was misled as to what was normal by some of the online literature I had been reading."

"Well," says Lydia, "if you've never used it, why not donate it to a charity shop?"

Predictably, we piss ourselves with laughter, especially when Samantha asks which charity shop we would recommend.

Once we've recovered ourselves, she carries on with the lecture. "Our current preference is this one with the vibrating attachments. We can both enjoy it at the same time. Sadly, it's not very robust. We've had two others like it, but neither has lasted more than a couple of months."

"Well, it does have a heavy workload, Samantha!" Louise interjects. I wonder why she feels she needs to defend a sex toy?

We also get an entirely unprompted lecture about hygiene and safety which, in retrospect, I really wish I'd got yesterday.

So we're sitting there surrounded by sex toys, when there's a knock at the door. We jump and squeal, not really expecting it - I mean anyone wanting to visit has to buzz the front door. Maybe an upstairs neighbour?

I'm closest, so I end up opening it.

Carrie - Thursday

"Ok, great stuff everyone, thanks! Have a great holiday. If everyone can please make an effort to learn lines, that would be awesome."

With that, Keke dismisses us.

"Um, Baz, did Amanda say what was the matter with her? Is it her ankle again or...?"

"No, she didn't, I don't think. Let me check."

He shows me the message. Yeah, it doesn't give much away. Shit, I wonder if she is just wanting to avoid me.

It's just after 9:30. Earlier than the other night. I should go round and apologise. Maybe pick something up for her. I mean, if she's genuinely ill maybe she hasn't been in the mood to cook much?

I search online for the nearest supermarket, and head into Clifton Village. I rarely come here, so follow the route GPS suggests which takes me through a grand old square, the wide paved path cutting a diagonal through the tree filled park in the middle. It's lined on three sides with elegant four storey stone buildings that look like they are a couple of hundred years old, at least. High windows and wrought iron balconies look out onto the park. Amanda's building isn't quite as glamorous, but it's close. Such a contrast to where I live, surrounded by crummy and crumbling brick semis.

After a quick spin around Tesco I bag some smoothies, herbal teas, throat sweets, fresh lemon and ginger, and some bananas. I'm not sure what's the matter with her, but can't go wrong with these. On impulse I grab a bunch of flowers at the check out. She said it was "fine" in her text, but there's "fine" and there's "fine", so it can't hurt.

I catch a break when I get to her house: a neighbour is just coming out and I manage to catch the door before it closes. Shitty, really. He totally should have checked before I went in.

Cascades of laughter tumble down the stairwell from the second floor. Well, that's a good sign I guess; she's obviously not at death's door then.

Nervously, I knock and I hear squeals of surprise, and more laughter and scuffling, then the door's opening and it's her.

She's in pyjamas and somehow, despite having seen her naked a lot the last few days, that stirs even more in me. She looks so young and innocent, I just want to wrap her up and keep her warm. It's chilly on the stairs.

"Hi! Um, Baz said you weren't feeling well, so I got you some stuff."

She slips out onto the landing, pulling the door closed behind her. I can hear her flatmates giggling and moving around. I hope they aren't all about to pile out here.

"Thanks, that's, like, thoughtful, but really, I'm ok. How was, you know, rehearsal?"

"We missed you, but it was ok. We did bits of Act 3. Josh has got some acting chops. He's going to be really good."

She's looking at the flowers I'm holding.

"These are for you." She looks at me quizzically. "As an apology, for the other day. I was rude and you didn't deserve it."

"Thank you. That's, like, really sweet."

"And I got you some other stuff. Just in case..." I'm embarrassed now. She's clearly fine. Maybe she did just want to avoid me.

She nods and takes the bag from me. "Thanks Carrie. How did you, like, get in?"

"I tailgated a neighbour. Sorry. Just didn't want to risk being shut out again. I want to apologise. I was going to suggest we go get something but I guess you're ready for bed...?" Maybe she'll invite me in?

She nods. "Yeah. I mean, some other time maybe."

"Umm.... Do you have plans tomorrow evening?"

"Yeah, actually. But, like, I'm free in the day."

I shake my head. "I'm driving my Mum up to Gloucester... then I'm working most of the weekend, but maybe we could meet up on my break?"

Now it's her turn to shake her head. She sighs and she looks at me sadly. "Sorry, like, it would be nice, but we're all, like, going up to Samantha's parents' for the weekend."

"Okay." I'm trying not to feel too gutted. "Next week?"

"Yeah, sure, I'm around. Sarah said she might, like, be able to get me some shifts at her job, you know. But, like, nothing's fixed. Text me."

She leans up on tip toe and kisses me on the cheek. "Thanks for the flowers, Carrie. Good night."

"Good night."

I watch the door close with an audible click that seems to echo inside me. Gasps and whistles come from the flat; clearly her flatmates were listening at the door.

Then the automatic lights on the landing click off and I'm left in the dark.

Friday - Amanda

"So, do you want to stay in or go out?" Lucy's leading me in from the front door. She's in a sharp trouser suit, her hair up in a tight bun, looking severe and serious. Hmmm, I figured she'd have changed from her work clothes by now. It's not a look that does anything for me; I preferred that fun, free spirit I remember from Wednesday.

"Um, like, I thought you wanted to hang out here?"

"Well, yeah, we totally can. It's up to you. I didn't know how 'out' you were, so I figured you might be happier staying in."

And as soon as she says that it hits me. I have to come out. Well, no, I don't have to. I suppose there are still people who keep their sexuality secret, and of course in some countries they have to. It just never occurred to me. But I'm clearly not completely straight. Maybe not straight at all. So, there's a decision to be made.

"Amanda? Are you ok?" Lucy waves her hand in front of my face.

"Sorry! I mean, it just hit me, you know, like, I'm not straight. Like, I'll have to tell people. My parents."

"Well, you don't have to..."

"I mean, are you in the closet?"

"What? Fuck no! Ha! I came out ages ago. My Mum was shocked but I was all "serves you right for sending me to an all girls' boarding school", ha ha. She's over it now. More or less." She shrugs.

I slump on one of the stools in her kitchen. Wow, I'm reeling. "Like, sorry, you probably weren't up for dealing with this. I mean, you probably just wanted a little fun, right?"

"Don't worry about it! You aren't my first baby gay."

"Oh." Suddenly, I don't really want to be in this dull, boring flat - it feels too much like hiding away, like admitting there is something shameful about me, that I need to be shut away in this bland box. "Actually, can we, like, go out? Do you mind?"

"Sure! What do you fancy? Italian? Mexican? Indian? Olive Shed? It's Friday, so most places will be packed, but we might get lucky."

"Yeah, I'm, like, easy. Just no Caribbean."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Just... nah. Like, not my thing. Do you wanna, you know, change?"

"No, I'm good. Just let me grab my coat. You sure you don't mind being seen out together?"

"It's Bristol! I mean, nobody will, like, look twice at two girls together!"

"You sure about that?"

Well, I thought I was. I mean, guys can be dicks, but really will they hassle us anymore than if they thought we were straight?

Her coat is gorgeous, this fitted leather trench with a stunning silk lining. It looks like it costs more than my tuition. Well almost. But I definitely feel underdressed in jeans, jumper and long puffer as we stride out into the night. I mean, these are my nice jeans, and the jumper is Karen Millen (secondhand, obviously) but I still feel drab in comparison.

Despite the cold and light drizzle, the Harbourside is heaving. Crowds of Ben Sherman shirted smokers huddle together under gas heaters on the verandahs and patios of the bars. They catcall the scantily clad groups of girls in spaghetti tops and micro-minis that totter past and barely bat an eye at me and Lucy, buttoned up as we are. I don't crave their attention.

Yet, as we take a seat at a gastro pub's tiny table I can't help but feel different and I'm stunned that nobody notices. I feel like there's a flashing sign hovering above my head, screaming out that we are two women on a date. It's like I'm seeing the world in a new way, examining everything. Did the waiter act differently towards us taking our food orders? Are those glances we're getting from other customers hostile or curious or envious? What does all of this mean to me?