The six-month housemate

Eight

EIGHT

I lied down on my bed, looking at the ceiling. I was not fooled by the situation. My grandmother was not epileptic, and even if some people had peileptic fits only once in their lives, I didn't believe that could be it. I'd never heard of any epilepsy cases in the family, and anyway, who was taken to the hospital for an epileptic fit to be operated on? I mean, maybe she would've been taken to the hospital to be checked on, but operated on? That seemed weird.

Was my dad hiding stuff from me to protect me in some way? It was very much like him to do something like this... Maybe it was to prevent me from freaking out a week before University started and start the year badly? Or just to prevent me from coming back to France, where, even if I had no options to study for the year to come, I would probably feel more at home... I let out a frustrated sigh. Trying to avoid me freaking out was definitely a failed objective, if that was what he had wanted in the first place...

Just then, I heard a knock on my door, and decided to recompose myself. I could not let the boys see something was wrong. Then I would be pitied and that was the last thing I needed. Pitied by boys; how pathetic.

I sat up in my bed, grabbed my phone as if I had been doing something on it and answered that however was out there could come in.

Oliver's head appeared in the door opening.

"Hey, it's past midday, I want both you and Alex in the living room right now to apologise!" He said with a fake parent tone.

"I already apologised in the park! Why would I need to do it again?" I whined.

"Because I wasn't there and I want to see it with my own eyes. I mean come on, you're going to live with us for the next six months, if you and Alex hit it off badly, living with you two will be impossible." He answered.

I huffed and got up from my bed. I remembered I wanted to go to M&S afterwards so I picked up my purse and shoved in it my phone and money.

"What are you doing?" Oliver asked, a confused expression on his face.

"I'm going to M&S after this, and I don't want to go back up if I'm going down." I explained logically.

He nodded and we headed downstairs. Alex was waiting in the living room, reading the Guardian. I laughed a little when I saw this. I didn't remember Alex as someone who would read that kind of press, if any press at all.

"What?" He asked, scowling.

"Really? The Guardian?" I answered, chuckling lightly.

"I like staying informed on what's happening in the world, does it bother you?"

"Wow, England really changed you..." I shook my head slightly.

"What, you think I'm not intelligent enough to read this kind of stuff?" He asked, nearly angrily, pointing at the newspaper.

"Oh, I don't doubt that, I'm just saying in my memory you wouldn't use your intelligence for that kind of stuff."

"Oh yeah?"

Oliver must've thought the situation was kind of spinning out of control, which it was, because he interrupted the conversation:

"We're not here to talk about Alex's brain, if he has one, we're here for you to apologise. So get on with it! And if you two start fighting again, believe me, I'll make you apologise again, no matter what the subject of the dispute is!" He threatened.

Alex and I both rolled our eyes. Funny how we could be so synchronised sometimes...

"Fine."

"Okay: Alex, you apologise to Emma for scaring her and Emma you apologise to Alex for slapping him in the face. By the way, dude, there's a bit of ice in the freezer, you should probably use it, or you'll have Emma's hand on your cheek all week."