5. "Does your sister have to give me graphic descriptions of her period?"

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When I wake up later that morning, it's light and I can hear movement from somewhere inside the flat. I don't know whether it's my brother or burglar Brad. Either way, I'm feeling hungry and breakfast is calling me.

Now it's morning, I have mixed feelings about last night's... altercation. I'm slightly amused that Tris's flatmate /bandmate was nearly stabbed and/or bashed with a frying pan by me. Though I'm wondering whether Brad will see the funny side.

I'm also slightly embarrassed that I went all ninja on him but it was just self-defence. Imagine if it had actually been a burglar or a murderer or a stalker-fangirl.

Mainly I'm pissed off. I'm pissed off that my brother failed to mention that I'd be sharing his flat with another guy as well as him. I mean, would it really have been that much trouble to tell me? Surely not. And it's not like it's a minor detail, is it? A whole other human being makes a big difference when living together. For example, if Brittany wasn't living in my actual home, I wouldn't be at Tristan's right now.

I'm pissed off at this Brad too. It wasn't my fault I didn't know who he was. He didn't need to keep frowning and swearing and rolling his eyes at me; I was only trying to defend myself. He should have been aware that someone coming in at 2 in the morning may make other members of the household question whether said person is an intruder or not. And he should feel lucky I didn't just instantly charge at him with the knife as soon as he walked in the kitchen. I spared him his life.

I sit up in my bed and grab a hair elastic from on top of my dressing table, tying my hair up and away from my face. Then, I climb out of bed and pull my hoodie on over my body, before wandering through my new home towards the kitchen.

It's just Tristan who is in there when I enter. He seems to be messing around with the toaster so I sit down quietly on a stool at the kitchen island. I remind myself that I'm pissed off at him so I don't make the effort to go to him first; he can come to me.

He sits down across from me and pushes a plate of toast towards me across the island.

"I was joking about the toast," I tell him, referring back to our conversation last night before we went to bed.

"It's your first morning here and I want to say sorry for not telling you about Brad" he says sheepishly, "I've been a bit forgetful with you lately"

"You left me at the train station"

"Okay, very forgetful" he adds, "but I'm very sorry so eat your toast"

I go ahead and do so, chatting with my brother for a short while before I decide to start unpacking my stuff. I start with the bathroom because nobody's in there at the moment and take the toiletries I want to put in there with me. I sit on top of the toilet seat and get to work, but as I'm arranging my toothbrush and toothpaste in a cup, the curly-haired bastard from last night barges into the bathroom. He barely even glances in my direction. I flare my nostrils and watch as he picks up his own toothbrush and starts smearing toothpaste across it.

Jesus, does he walk in everywhere unannounced? Or is it just to irritate me?

"Do you mind?" I say sarcastically.

"The door wasn't locked" he shrugs.

"I'm clearly busy in here" I inform him, "and I was here first"

"I'm only brushing my teeth" he mutters through a mouthful of toothbrush.

"I could have been doing anything in here for all you know," I say sternly, scowling at him. He turns his head to acknowledge me for the first time since entering the bathroom with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes and a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Love & War | Brad Simpson ✔️Where stories live. Discover now