‘I’m not sure if I could drink it. It's too bloody hot,’ I complain.
I’m so hot, it's hard to even talk to her, or stay conscious, let alone get smashed.
‘Stop being a pussy,’ she snaps. ‘I’ve bought your bikini.’ She goes to a carrier bag and presents a jewelled green bikini that I’ve never seen before.
‘That's mine?’
‘Well, it is now,’ she says, her eyes lighting up, as they always do, when shopping is involved.
‘You went shopping!’ I say accusingly.
I can't believe her! How can she be so irresponsible? Five grand in debt and she’s acting like she owes me a fiver.
‘Chill! It's only Primark.’ She hands it over to me and I inspect it. It is beautiful and the padding around the bust is amazing. I’m talking proper hard-core padding.
‘Jazz! It says La Senza!’
Jazz and Izzy giggle at each other.
‘I told you we should have cut the label out,’ Izzy giggles.
‘Well I just thought you’d appreciate the padding,’ Jazz says, pointing towards my chest.
Grace flicks her hair around to glance at my boobs, and sniggers cruelly.
‘Look. Just try it on,’ Jazz demands. ‘If you like it keep it. OK?’
‘OK. I suppose trying it on can't hurt.’
My God! I can't believe how a bikini can transform your figure so much. My small boobs are now bulging bouncy bosoms and the bottoms are cut such a way that my legs look a lot longer and more slender than they are.
I walk into the garden feeling strong and confident. Jazz and Izzy turn around, dipping their sunglasses and wolf whistling. I know it's silly and childish but I do a little bow and spin, pleased by the attention. I join them on one of the towels they’ve laid out on a tiny bit of concrete.
They really need to clear this garden up. It's a mess. Completely overgrown grass up to my knees, with ferns and weeds running amok. The four of us are squeezed on to the tiny bit of concrete. It's pathetic. If I had a garden like this I’d really turn it around.
‘Have you ever considered cleaning up this garden?’
Grace ignores me as usual, but Izzy looks up, a demented excited smile on her face.
‘Oh God!’ Jazz sighs, dipping her sunglasses so she can roll her eyes. ‘Don't get Izzy started.’
I stare at Izzy confused.
‘I’ve been wanting to get it cleaned up for ages but these guys won't help me!’ she explains.
‘Lazy cow!’ I hit Jazz playfully on the shoulder. ‘Why don't we do it this weekend?’
‘Sweet!’ Izzy squeals. ‘It's a date.’
‘And Jazz, you’re helping.’
‘Ugh! Fine!’ She rolls over to her front and I just about make out her saying ‘Hitler’s taken over’ under her breath.
‘Where’s Ryan anyway?’ I ask.
Grace looks up at the mention of his name.
‘He’s shopping,’ she says, smirking at the thought of knowing more than me about him.
‘Yep. He hates the heat,’ Izzy adds as she leans back, basking in the sun.
‘I know how he feels.’ I down my strawberry margarita and apply more factor thirty.
The faint sound of the door knocking stops me from applying another layer. Everyone pretends like they haven’t heard it so I jump up to get it. It’s only when I open the door and see Big Tits Tabitha on the doorstep that I remember I’m only in a bikini. Something about having a massive pair of fake tits thrust in your face makes you remember that yours are the size of an average twelve year olds.
‘Tabitha! Hi, come in’ I say, my voice squeaky and fake.
She’s dressed in a pink and white summer dress, her breasts heaving over it. She must be boiling.
‘Hi! Poppy, isn’t it?’
‘Yep, that's me.’ Just Ryan’s housemate Poppy.
‘Is he in?’ she ask, barging past me into the kitchen, pouting her lips all the way. I wonder if she’s had those lip injection things. They look huge. They look like blow job lips. Slag.
‘He’s out at the moment, but he’ll be back soon.’ I smile and sit at the kitchen table. I grab a newspaper, hoping she won't engage me in conversation.
‘Can you show me where his bedroom is?’
His bedroom? I look up at her in disbelief.
‘Sorry...what?’
‘Well, he’s been holding out on me in the bedroom department, probably too much of a gentlemen. So I thought that I should show him how much I want him, if you know what I mean.’ She reaches beneath her dress and exposes her neon pink bra at me.
Oh I think I know what you mean, you slag.
‘So, could you tell me where his bedroom is?’ She gets her bag and walks towards the door.
Oh my God. This tramp is trying to bed him. I spent all my energy telling him to wait, but never did I think that she’d force herself on him. And he’s a red blooded male. Of course he’s going to say yes. They’re going to have sex upstairs...while I’m in the house! I’ll be able to hear the springs creaking and the headboard knocking. And then it will really be game over.
‘No!’ I protest, my voice a squeak.
She stops and turns towards me. I think she’s trying to crease her forehead, but she’s had so much Botox I can't make out any lines of real expression.
‘Sorry? No?’ She narrows her eyes at me. She’s clearly not used to being told what to do.
‘I mean…not no…but...you just can’t.’ Every muscle in my body is tightening. Please don't sleep with him I want to plead.
‘Sorry, but why can’t I?’ Her tone has quickly changed to one that someone doesn’t argue with.
‘Because...because...’ I can feel the sweat on my upper lip as my mind races. Why can't she? Think Poppy, think!
‘Because what?’ She puts her hand on her hip and leans in, as if to challenge me.
‘Because...he’s...gay!’
Oh dear, what the hell have I done.
‘He’s...gay? He’s gay? What are you talking about?’ she demands, her face getting red with distress.
Gay must just be on my mind from my date with Lewis.
‘Well, he’s very...confused at the moment. He knows he should like women, but...whenever he looks at my poster of Jared Leto he just...melts.’
Oh God, I can’t stop this crap from spilling out of my mouth.
‘Is that why he wouldn’t sleep with me?’ she asks, her eyes darting from side to side as if she’s doing a long multiplication in her head.
‘Yes, that's why! Very confused, as I said. He keeps forcing me to watch Singing in the Rain. One of his favourite films apparently.’
‘Oh my God. That's what you were watching the other day!’ she says, her eyes still not meeting mine. ‘He really is gay. I can’t believe I haven’t seen it until now.’ She stares at me completely dazed.
‘Yeah. I’m really sorry to break it to you like this. Please don’t tell anyone.’
‘No, of course. But thank you.’ She smiles gratefully and backs out of the room, still clearly in shock, banging the door shut.
As soon as it slams shut I cradle my head in my hands. What the hell have I done? What is wrong with me? I walk into my room and look into the mirror. A scared vulnerable little girl in a posh bikini stares back at me. Since when did I turn into such a compulsive liar? My mum raised me better than this. Well, my Grandma did. She used to say ‘Never tell a lie. You’ll never escape from a lie without being made to cry.’ I hope just for once Grandma would be wrong about these few recent ones.
I wander back into the garden wondering how I came to be such a loser.
‘I still need to tell you what a dickhead your brother was,’ Jazz says, rolling back over to face me.
‘Oh yeah, I completely forgot. What happened?’
I’m glad for the distraction.
‘Well, he asked me to Leicester didn’t he and I go all the way there with him and he ends up going off and shagging some random girl in the club.’
Typical Oliver.
‘And? You guys aren’t dating or anything are you?’
‘Well...no, but...’
‘But what?’
Izzy and Jazz exchange glances and I’m aware I’m missing something.
‘What?’ I demand, sighing heavily. Why do I always feel like a parent?
‘Well...we’ve kind of been sleeping together,’ Jazz announces, avoiding my gaze.
‘WHAT?’ I exclaim, spitting on her in shock.
‘See! This is why we decided to keep it a secret! Because you always make a big deal out of things!’
‘Oh really,’ I mock. ‘What would I have said? That someone always gets hurt? That's just happened!’
‘No it hasn’t! I’m not in love with him or anything. I just...well, I didn’t know it bothered me until I saw him with someone else,’ she says, a little sadly.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be dating Jake anyway?’
‘We’re not exclusive!’ she shouts rolling her eyes.
‘Jazz! How many times!? This exclusive excuse is totally American. We’re British and once you sleep with a guy more than once it's just an unwritten rule that you’re kind of going out and won't sleep with anyone else.’
‘Sorry Jazz, but I agree with Poppy,’ Izzy says, looking slightly afraid of Jazz’s reaction.
‘But he hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend!’ Jazz protests.