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“Oh, damn,” Ed said as he studied the want ads. “It says ‘Professional Couple Only.’”
"Is that even legal?" Stede asked, slowly stirring his drink. They were both rather expert at dragging out a coffee and hanging onto their table in the busy diner without spending too much.
"Dunno."
“And do you have one? A profession?”
“I’m a writer,” Ed said decisively. Then, less decisively, “Do you think they’ll ask if I’m like, getting paid to write?”
“Do I think they’ll ask if you get paid?” Stede asked incredulously. “At a flat interview?”
“Yep, right, no worries,” Ed said, feeling a bit worried. “I mean, I practically get paid.” He was sure his writing career would pick up once he was out of that squat. How were you supposed to get anything done when your flatmates were constantly partying? Ed hadn’t seen the floor in days, it was hidden under drifts of dirty clothes and pizza boxes and empties. That was no place for genius to flourish.
“Anyway, what do you do?” Ed asked. He reached for his cigs, then counted them, did some quick mental math, and tucked them away again.
Stede pulled himself up from his slump. “I'm a graphic artist, I’ll have you know.”
“Oh, yeah, cool. So you work in a comic shop?”
Stede slumped again like his strings had been cut. “For now. But I have plans. And a portfolio. I probably would be halfway to my own book by now if Mary hadn’t thrown me out!”
“Of course, yeah, for sure,” Ed said. “Mary.”
Stede bringing up his ex every three minutes was a useful reminder that they weren’t actually dating, just trying to score a decent place to live in a city where that was as rare as a unicorn sighting.
Besides, Ed already had a boyfriend. But Jack was kind of a lout, and probably cheating on him, and back in America for a job. Meanwhile Stede was right here, smelling like some kind of bewitching herbal shampoo.
Of course, it was entirely possible that once Ed got out of the squat he’d no longer be turned on by the scent of like, soap. So maybe this would all work out just fine.
“I’ll go give them a ring,” Stede said.
Flatmates. Very friendly flatmates. Who got on like a house on fire. Yep, there was no way this could go wrong.