“Well now, who’s this?” Julian asked as he slid up off the couch, where he’d been lazily scrolling through his tablet. I chanced a quick, reassuring peek at Damon before answering my friend. “This is Damon. He’s in the cast.” Julian groaned as he approached, his chestnut hair sitting messily atop his head. “Oh please, Rose, not another actor.” I glared at him, trying to channel as much ‘shut the hell up’ into my eyes as possible. My flatmate didn’t really have a censor. A moment of quiet ensued while Julian circled Damon, taking his measure. “You don’t look like an actor.” The edges of Damon’s mouth twitched for the briefest second. “Thanks.” “He’s got a sense of humour, too. He’ll go far,” Julian grinned in my direction then sauntered into the kitchen. “I’m starving. Are you cooking dinner?” “Aren’t I always,” I sighed and then asked Damon if I could take his coat. He shrugged out of it, his eyes not leaving me all the while, and then I went to hang it on the rack by the door. On my return he bent to ask curiously, “Another actor?” I took a moment to absorb the sensation of his breath hitting my skin. It was…not unpleasant. Julian, who I swear had the hearing of a bat, didn’t miss a beat as he let out an amused chuckle. “Rose has a weakness for those in your profession.” Damon looked at me in question. I strode over to the breakfast bar, again glaring at my friend. “Yes, well, I’ve sworn off all thespians after the last disaster, so Damon here is safe.” “What disaster?” For someone who claimed not to be a big talker, he sure had a lot of questions. “Ever heard of Blake Winters?” Julian chirped, plucking an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a big bite. Damon shook his head. Julian scrunched his brows. “Have you been living under a rock?” “No, I’ve been living on an island,” said Damon. Julian cocked his head to the side, as though trying to figure out if he was being sarcastic. “Well, he’s an actor, like you, and he sleeps around. Rose had the great misfortune to have her head turned by the young Mr Winters. He seduced her and then left her in the lurch, the swine,” Julian pouted his lips, effecting a disapproving expression. “Sounds like an arse,” Damon put in and both Julian and I began laughing. “I like this one,” said Julian. I grinned as I thought, yeah, me too, and found myself suddenly blushing.
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L.H. Cosway has a BA in English Literature and Greek and Roman Civilisation, and an MA in Postcolonial Literature. She lives in Dublin city. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books.
She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories.