You Are Ours

Chapter 5

R Y A N

TWO YEARS LATER

WAKING UP TO the sound of the kettle button being pushed I groan in annoyance. When I look up at the large digital clock on the wall, the time reads 08.22 - we're not even in double digits and someone is rudely waking me up already.

"You slept on the couch again?" I hear a annoyed voice across the room.

"Sofa."

"What?" My roommate Amy chuckles.

"It's not a couch it's a sofa... get it right," I huff, wiping the sleep crust from my eyes with a yawn.

"Really?" I sit up and she plops down next to me on the sofa I've called my bed for a third night this week. Honestly not by choice, I would rather sleep in my own bed, in my own room but, unfortunately I haven't been able to. Well... there hasn't been any room to. "You've lived here how long and you still call it a sofa?" She says with a smile, her thick Boston accent filling the room.

"A couch is a sofa, the sidewalk is the pavement, a cookie is a biscuit unless it's soft with chocolate chips, fries are chips and chips are crisps. End of story."

"Honey, this is America, it's a fucking couch," she giggles.

Amy and I met the first week of freshman year at NYU. We had rooms across the hall from each other and I bumped into her while rushing to my first class that I was late for. When we both took a job at the local campus coffee shop we became fast friends. I bitched to her about my annoying roommate who was sex mad and had a different boy in her bed almost every night while she had a girl who was a goth, painting half the room black - never speaking a word to her... ever.
   At the end of the year we decided, with a little help from our parents that we didn't want to live on campus anymore so they helped buy us a flat that was close enough to commute every day. With the thought of getting two new roommates next year and the horrible girl down the hall from Texas who only played music by Dolly Parton at high volume, we knew we needed our own space, so moving in together was a no brainer. However, we still went to the frat and sorority parties or any other campus parties going on, including all the school events because we still only lived a fifteen minute drive away.
   Amy was one of the saving grace miracles at NYU and I love her. Her bright red hair that she dyed every four weeks was hard to miss and her brown eyes sparkled with excitement. She was one of them overly happy humans that never let anything dampen her spirit. She had moved from Boston to become a Journalist, even though her secret passion was fashion designing, but she had a goal and she never backed away from a goal. She still kept designing and making clothes in her spare time, which she loved and I certainly didn't mind being her model. Not to mention she was the best person to go shopping with because she had such an eye for fashion. Something I never had.

"You slept on the sofa again?"

"See... even Matthew calls it a sofa!" I say towards Amy.

"Only because I've known you long enough to call it that and I'm sick of you correcting me!" Matthew says rolling his eyes. "It's still a fucking couch!"

"Ah!... Couch!" Amy yells laughing.

One of the best things about picking NYU was that Matthew was coming here to. I applied for seven different schools, even two back in England, but when I found out Matthew was going to be here too I jumped with joy knowing I was taking a little bit of home with me. When Matthew found out we was renting a flat off campus he jumped at the chance to move with us. Splitting the rent three ways was better than two anyway. Matthew was training to be a dancer and he knew coming to New York would give him the opportunity to live out his dream than back home in California.