Ryan lived in the centre of town in a large Victorian terrace with the same four people he'd lived with since first year, and a secret cat, Mrs Whiskers, who had a penchant for scratching Ade each and every time they crossed paths. Both Ryan and his housemates insisted she was being friendly; Ade, however, knew she was the devil incarnate, swapping horns for pricked ears. Thankfully, when Ryan packed enough people into the drafty hallways, Ade didn't have to worry about her, saving himself from a painful run-in. Except, when he turned onto Ryan's road, there Mrs Whiskers was, prowling towards him at a leisurely pace.

For a moment, Ade considered crossing the road. Inconvenient, yes, but self-preservation was no joke. Especially when Mrs Whiskers' amber eyes were narrowed to a point, precise in their glare. She inched closer while he teetered on the curb and glanced over his shoulder at the oncoming traffic. When he returned his gaze to her agile frame, her spine curved and she leapt into a neighbouring garden, saving him from shallow scratches and an unnecessary addition to his journey.

When he reached the house, the front door was ajar. Music escaped, thick with bass, into the mild evening air until Ade shut the door firmly behind himself. People lined the hallway, drinks in hand, smiles at the ready. Ade returned the favour as he made a beeline for the kitchen. It was even busier, heaving so much so that he failed to find a single unopened beer bottle. He did, however, find the next best thing.

Miriam leaned against the hulking American-style fridge and brought a clear plastic cup to her mouth. She took a demure sip of her drink and ran her tongue along her bottom lip, leaving a shiny trail along the burgundy stained swell. Beside her, Wes poured himself a drink. Whiskey it seemed, neat. Miriam laughed at something Wes said, shoulders shaking, and placed a hand on his chest. He beamed down at her, she laughed harder; Ade wanted to make him disappear. Not permanently, but he was sure an hour or two alone would be enough for him to unwind whatever dark and twisted spell Wes laced around Miriam's psyche.

"You're staring." Abi popped out of nowhere, wearing a short denim skirt and a smarmy smile. Daniel was hot on her heels, Ade's favourite navy jumper straining against his broad frame. He clapped Ade on the back almost as if he'd asked to borrow the shirt and hugged him.

"I wasn't staring," Ade muttered when he stepped out of Daniel's embrace.

"You were," Abi said. "And it's fucking weird. Either go over there or leave her alone. Don't be the creeper watching in the corner."

"Who invited her anyway?" Ade's gaze remained fixed. He'd never seen her at one of these, hadn't seen Wes in a year and a half. But here they were, together. Why had he never brought her before?

"Ryan invited her," Daniel said. "He saw her and Wes at the gym yesterday. Apparently, she barely remembered you."

Ade squared his shoulders, his expression souring. "Ryan's exaggerating," he said.

"How do you know that?" Abi asked. "It's not like you were there."

"I know Ryan." Ade broke his focus for a second, momentary and fleeting to make space for a sardonic smile, then returned his gaze to its favourite subject. "And I know her," he said.

"You most definitely do not," Abi snorted.

"But I will."

"When? So far all I've seen you do is stare."

"Don't worry about it." Ade turned. "I'll get to her eventually."

Eventually came two hours later. Miriam was in the garden, back pressed against the brick wall. Cerberus was nowhere in sight, but then Ade couldn't be too careful. He'd found her like this an hour ago, sipping something brown and carbonated while nodding along to the music, but then Wes returned and they disappeared, fading from the party until only a whisper of their presence remained.

He stepped towards her and trod on a broken stick which cracked beneath his shoes. It must've caught her attention because she glanced up, her head turning like a whippet, and slid her phone into her back pocket. Her neck lengthened, straight, regal, and her eyes widened ever so slightly around the edges. In that moment, doe-eyed and open, Ade could've sworn he saw a glimmer of a smile. Not the beaming ray he'd watched her offer Wes, but it was something.

"Miriam, right?" Ade asked, ducking deferentially and itching the back of his neck.

"Yeah, you're Ade?"

He could've cheered. Chanted, even, like a kid in a candy store. Declared you remember. Grinned madly. He could've done all of that and more, but instead he settled for: "I didn't expect to see you here."

"My flatmate's a friend of Ryan's," she explained.

Ade resisted the embarrassing urge to say I know and instead said, "Do I know them?"

"Maybe. I live with Wes. Wes Abbot."

"Wes." He stretched his name out like a slinky.

Miriam's eyes narrowed, pitch black and reeling. "Why did you say it like that?" she asked, a flare flashing in gold tones.

"Like what?" Ade leaned beside her.

"Like you were surprised."

"Because I am." What was a little white lie when you're dealing with the potential love of your life? For that's what she was. The first girl to make him stop, pause and reconsider.

She jerked back and blinked. "Why? Did you think we were together or something?"

"Do people often think you are?"

She bit the corner of her lip. "Yeah, I guess."

"And are you?" Ade asked. "Together?"

"No."

"Good."

She let out a short huff of air. It was almost a laugh, the closest he'd gotten out of her. He wanted another, for the sounds to build and build until it was cacophony of glee dedicated to him.

"Are you trying to move to me?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.

Ade licked his lips and took an involuntary step back. Women were always forward with him, but not so honest they became nonchalant. Usually, their curiosity was dressed up in a red hot package, sultry and dirty, but this was open, honest, fresh. It was evergreen.

"It's alright if you are," she said with a shrug. "I'd just rather know."

"Why?"

"So I can decide if you're worth my time."

"Worth your time?" he laughed. It felt premature considering she had yet to do the same, but there was something about her flippancy that made him want to laugh. Probably because if he didn't, he'd cry. Not literally, then again, there was no knowing. He'd never felt this way before.

"Men often aren't," Miriam explained. "Talk to one, you've talked to them all."

"You must be meeting some very unimpressive men."

"Perhaps. Or maybe you're all the same."

"Unimpressive?"

"Don't forget unimaginative, predictable, boring."

"Boring." He clutched his chest and staggered. With anyone else, it would've inspired a smile, but Miriam barely blinked, and suddenly, Ade did need to clutch his chest, but for all the wrong reasons. "Surely I'm not boring," he said once he could sidestep her indifference.

She shrugged again. He wished she would do something else. Smile, but at this point he'd even take a frown. At least that would suggest he'd had some kind of impact.

"I haven't decided yet," she said.

"How do we speed up the process?"

The corners of her mouth turned upwards. "We keep talking."

He was in.

"Mer." Ade stiffened at the familiar rumble of Wes' voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he said.

"Here I am." Miriam smiled. It was full, wide, blinding. It was everything Ade wanted from her, only he wanted to be the reason for it. "You ready to go?" she asked.

Wes threw an arm around her shoulder and nodded. "Ryan wants to back a game of truth or dare."

"Sounds dangerous."

"Definitely, anyways I was thinking we could—"

Ade cleared his throat.

"Oh, Ade, didn't see you there."

Bullshit, Ade thought as he fixed an easy smile to his face. "Hey man," he said instead, "long time no see."

"Yeah, it's been busy."

"Well glad you could make it."

"Of course, Mer and I need to get out of the house more anyway."

"Speak for yourself." She elbowed his waist. "I get out plenty."

"Going to Abi's doesn't count," Wes said.

"Bookclub."

"Another non—"

"You're in a bookclub?" Ade interjected.

Wes' scowl was palpable, but if Miriam noticed it, she did a phenomenal job of ignoring it as she glanced up at Ade and nodded. "The ACS' black girl bookclub," she said.

"Ah cool, is it open to anyone or?"

"Anyone who's African or Caribbean and female or gender non-conforming," she explained. "To be honest, we sort of need to change the name."

"What kind of books do you read?"

"Why?" Wes' voice was deceptively light, but his eyes, well they told Ade all he needed to know. Namely, back off. "You a big reader?" he asked.

"No," Ade laughed, directing the full force of his smile towards Miriam. "But my younger sister is always looking for recommendations."

"How old is she?" Miriam asked, finally gifting him with an unreserved, clear as day, grin.

"Fifteen," he said.

"Oh, well then she should totally read Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry. It's amazing and an age-appropriate romance which is the most important thing these days. Honestly, the smut I catch my little sister reading would make a nun faint."

"I'll be sure to let her know."

"Good." Miriam glanced up at Wes. "Anyway, we should get going. I guess I'll see you around."

Something in Ade bent, crooked where he was always straight, assured. "Wait," he said, refraining from wincing at the embarrassment of it all, "let me get your number. You know, for if you remember anymore recommendations."

Wes let out an undisguised snort while Miriam fished her phone out of her pocket and handed it over. It wasn't what Ade wanted, now she'd be in control, but beggars can't exactly be choosers. He returned the phone and watched, rooted to the spot, as she and Wes left, nestled against one another like two perfect little peas in their perfect little pods. All he had to do was smash them apart.

~~~

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