Me and You

roll with it

I looked out of the window and at the rows of houses belonging to Burnage, Manchester, my shitty hometown, then at the clock. It was half-four in the afternoon and I'd been in my dressing gown since noon, I hadn't even attempted to dry my hair, so it ended up in raggled, unflattering waves, not the perfect beach waves every girl wishes for.

'It's nearly time for me to have my tea; no point in getting dressed now,' I thought to myself, walking over to my CD's and picking out Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds. While waiting for my mam to return with the shopping, I scrolled through Instagram, checking both my account and my team. My 'team' being my friends Amy, Lou and Winnie.

Californiacation rang out of my phone as I had an incoming call. I picked it up and heard Amy's voice.

"Alright, how are you feeling?" Amy asked as I answered.

"Like I've just been dragged out of bed backwards," I replied honestly, dragging my hand through my tatty hair.

"How do you think you'll be feeling tomorrow?"

"I dunno, why?"

"Because, I'm meeting with a friend and he's having to bring his mate along, but his mate is refusing to 'third wheel'," She explained before continuing, "But we'll have to get a train into the city."

I groaned, partly in frustration partly in self-pity, "Ask me tomorrow, I'm not making any commitments now because I feel like I'm dying."

-

My alarm clock bleeped, and I groaned, slapping it repeatedly until it finally shut up. I must have only gotten about half an hour extra sleep before Amy barged into my room, rambling about how we had 40 minutes to get the train and throwing clothes onto my bed for me to change into.

After showering, I changed into a Stone Roses t-shirt and a denim skirt with a denim jacket. I put on my stan smiths and followed Amy to the train station.

"Fuck," I said, remembering my brother leaving early this morning and rubbing my forehead in pain from still being ill, "There's a match on."

Surely, when the train pulled up, it was rammed. We squeezed on easily but couldn't even move, let alone find a seat. The discomfort was clear on everyone's faces, with the exception of some who had started drinking early. A few smart remarks were made based upon the poky carriage like "next stop: Auschwitz" and similar.

A couple of stops before ours, people started pouring off the train since it was Man U vs. Man City and they were playing at Old Trafford. We managed to get a seat, which slightly relieved the pain in my back.

"What's even wrong with you?" Amy asked, watching me take a paracetamol.

"Everything hurts, it's like I have a regular flu but every muscle fucking kills." I looked down at the box of painkillers before sighing in frustration, "And these things are shit as well, they make you feel worse before you feel better. And when you start to feel better it's time to take another."

"You didn't have to come, you know?"

"I don't know, I felt like I had to since you were stood at the end of my bed this morning."

She rolled her eyes, watching the hills and houses roll past the window of the train at a high speed.

"Who are you meeting?" I asked, after a couple of minutes silence between us. Amy and I had never really been the closest in our group but we got along well nonetheless.

"Larry," She responded, waiting for me to say something smart.

"What's he like?"

"He's funny, really happy-go-lucky, I think his friend is as well to be honest."