See The Good

FIVE

When I wake up the next morning, I am pleasantly surprised to discover that my head is fine. It must be a fucking miracle! (Or the pints of water I drank before bed.)

I slip out of Joe's bed and pad down the hallway into the kitchen. I make myself a coffee, then change my mind and make a second for Jack. He was in a pretty rough state last night, and would probably appreciate it. I sneak through the living room, Arrogant Twat on one sofa, Jack on the other. I gently shake Jack and let him know there is a coffee on the coffee table for him, getting a grunt in response as I slide the French door open and slip out into the morning sun.

It is an absolute mess outside, so I just sort of organise the mess on the table before sitting and lighting a cigarette with the lighter that Arrogant Twat must have left on the table last night. I sip my coffee and flick through instagram on my phone, enjoying the mix of warm morning sun and peace and quiet.

'Fuck that was a heavy night, can I borrow your lighter please?' Arrogant Twat is awake of course. I toss it in his direction and busy myself on my phone.

'Look, sorry if I pissed you off last night. Not sure what I did but..' he shrugged his shoulders as he sat in the seat opposite to mine, glass of water in his hand.

'You didn't' I reply, leaving instagram and scrolling through twitter.

'Oh right. Okay. Well, whatever.'

***

Once I make it back to my apartment, I have a quick shower and throw on some joggers and hoody before pulling out my phone and returning to instagram. I am flicking through Joe's story - photos of us all drunken disorderly, photos of empty glasses, a photo of Arrogant Twat being Arrogant. Then I stop dead. I photo of himself and Jack in their shirts, a link to my website. What the fuck is that boy playing at?!

I quickly check my email to discover a stack of orders and my heart drops. Oh fucking shit!

I fire Joe a quick text to let him know he is in trouble before firing up my computer and printing all of the orders. I like to be organised. I put them all in order, and when I am done I have twenty-three shirts to make, with my lead time being two weeks thats (so far!) only two(ish) a day. I can do that, easily. But what if more orders come through?

I decide that I will cap the orders at thirty, and close the shop temporarily if that happens, before dragging our fabrics and beginning cutting.

By dinner time, all of the fabric is cut and bundled (and organised of course) so I order myself a takeaway and flop onto the sofa, checking my phone.

ConorMaynard is following you. Oh of course he fucking is.

ConorMaynard has messaged you. Of course he fucking has.