PLATFORMS ↛ D.A

Tesco and Sainsbury's

Waterloo | 08:47am

What do you get after a tedious train ride from Manchester to London, sat next to a breastfeeding mother who had her knockers out every other minute, a man who looked a step away from an overdose and a younger woman who looked like she'd taken tips from the New York fashion influencers. Cut throat leg warmers, doll. Answer: A very fucked off Amelia.

It was only a two hour train but fuck sake it felt about a decade long by the time the old overdose bloke had shut his sloppy chops, nevermind the time they'd reached London. Could've went to Narnia and back in that time. Trains really weren't her thing, first Damon now he's went and got her on a train, every. Single. Fucking. Morning. Honestly couldn't get better than this.

Correction, it really could. The second
she'd gotten off the train all of her bearings had completely fucked off and she didn't have an ounce of an inkling on where Damon lived.
She didn't have his number, nor Jamie's.
What kind of incompetent fuck stays at some blokes house leaves shit and then forgets to ask for their numbers? Live, laugh, love.

What happened to old phone books? This was exactly what they were for, this. You know, just when someone had made a mistake to not get a number and had something to blame it on. 'You didn't look up the pages?' No, I didn't, now fuck off.

She sat herself on a convenient bench and laughed, lighting a cigarette for herself. This was typical and would only be her, of course this would be getting blamed on Damon for not offering his number - it was funnier to have it at him. Poor Damon, after a week of living with her, he had started to get used to her type of comedy and took less and less offence to indirect digs.

In result it wasn't as fun to wind him up but he was still very gullible and had a low tolerance level before he would snap back. Fuck it was funny, Amelia looked forward to taking the piss out of him today. It was Sunday, no work,
a straight jokes day before she could find more innovative ways to annoy him at work.

The latest one was when she had anonymously airdropped him a photo with text naming a price to suck him off, he fucking accepted it too. That was the laugh of Thursday. It also resulted in a very pissed off Damon, leaving the house with a door slam stating that he would find someone to suck him off just to spite her and Jamie. Whatever he thought he was doing by saying that is unknown but to Amelia's knowledge, he did not find someone that night and instead went to the shop.

She was snapped from her thoughts when her phone began to ring and she had rolled her eyes with a scoff. Temporarily sticking her cigarette to her lip and digging around in her bag for the
phone, accepting the unknown number.

"Yes?" She snapped. "Amelia Harris."

"Are you in London?" And there it fucking was, that deep voice that always managed to simultaneously seem interested yet so distant from the conversation it was unreal. Damon fucking Albarn, or Dan as Amelia had began to call him. He wasn't much a fan of it hence the repetitive use.

"No, I'm in Scotland." She puffed on her cigarette, crossing a leg over the other. "Forgot where you live and got a bit lost, see?" A frown took over her face. "Hang on, how'd you get my number? I didn't give it you."

"No, I took the liberty of writing it down from your work forms." A beat. "Knew you'd forget where we lived."

"Bollocks did you know all that in advance,"
She shook her head with a smile unknown to Damon. "You're right though. Where d'you live, how am I gettin' there?" She refused to tell him that it was somewhat of a relief to hear his posh voice on the phone, someone who knew their way around.

"I can pick you up," His tone had lightened, like he had relaxed into ease. "Are you at Waterloo?"

"Well I'm not at platform nine n' three quarters."She had laughed, checking the time on her dainty watch. "If you're comin' be quick, its cold." Her cigarette had burnt down to her finger. She threw it away.