Memphis Wills wants out of Whitehaven, the tiny village she's lived in her whole life. So aged sixteen she leaves for college in the city and never looks back.
Until five years later when she finally wises up and leaves her dirt bag boyfriend. Fee...
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I'm shitting myself. Not literally. But my stomach does feel like a washing machine on a spin cycle.
My eyeliner looks like it's been drawn on by a child and being out in the rain earlier has made my hair look frizzy and wild. I run the straighteners over it quickly, not quite achieving sleek and shiny, but I don't look as crazed.
"Memphis, I can hear a moped."
My nerves double and I run out of my shared bedroom and almost bump straight into Mel. "How do I look?"
Mel's green eyes widen, and I know she's trying to think of something comforting to say.
"Actually, don't tell me."
"You're wearing heels to answer the door?"
I look down at my black boots. Are they a bad idea?
"Who wears heels in the house?" Remy asks from where she's lounging on the sofa, a glass of wine in her grasp.
"Who drinks wine at five in the evening on a Tuesday?" I've only known Remy for a couple of months but she's always the first to suggest an evening at the pub. Or opening a bottle of wine at our apartment.
"A worn-out first year, that's who."
We exchange sceptical looks just as the door-bell buzzes, letting us know that someone is trying to get into our apartment block.
I look to Mel, who's closest to the phone that rings down to the lobby. She jabs the button to open the main door before I can say otherwise, and I know it's too late to change out of my heels and dress. Sequins? Really?
We're only on the second floor so it doesn't take long until there's a knock at the door. I jump, starting to back into my room before Remy leaps up the sofa, wine still in hand, to push me towards the door.
"Answer it," she hisses.
I stand in the now silent room, my mouth gaping like a goldfish. Mel gives me a comforting nod, so I take a deep breath. I grip the door handle, yanking it open before I can talk myself out of it.
"Uh hi."
The guy in the hallway is tall. Dark eyebrows and dark eyes. Coffee coloured hair slightly dishevelled from his moped helmet. I bring a hand to my mouth to check I'm not dribbling.
"Thin crust. Extra pepperoni."
His voice makes my pizza order sound like something dirty and a shiver runs down my spine.
I manage a tiny nod. "Thanks."
His eyes drop to my dress as he hands the pizza over and I knew I shouldn't have worn sequins. Who wears sequins to sit in the house and wait for a hot guy to knock on the door?
"Well, see you around." He brings his gaze back up to mine and I know I'm staring but I can't help it.
