for the cringe texting. pls keep in mind how u had to text in these days it took u like 7 years

I put in extra shifts at the café that week. After spending time in that beautiful house, I'm suddenly very aware how bare and lonely my little flat is.

I managed to save up enough to get a new lamp for the living room. No matter how strong of a light bulb I buy, it's never bright enough. I find myself squinting over my piano sheets.

The lamp adds a bit of nice, moody ambience, and with some cheap candles burning, I feel a little bit more comfortable in my surroundings.

For the first time, I hover over the piano, and I manage to string together some notes in order to create a new melody. Every time I've tried to since coming here, it's been difficult and everything sounded very forced, or too reminiscent of another tune I'd heard. This time, it finally feels like something I'd make - but there's something new.

I stop to think. I look around my little flat. I put everything that's happened into perspective.

I've moved to England. I've found a job. I have my own place to stay. I've made new friends. I've saved up money for a lamp.

I had felt depressed about getting nowhere before, but look - I'm not nowhere. That's a feat in itself. Maybe I finally came to terms with that.

My Nokia Brick beeps, I check it. A message from Grace.

Prty @ mine l8r?

I read over it and sigh. I'm not really one for parties, but I suppose it's the only way to really get to know them. I send her a message back, confirming.

I'm not going to lie, I assumed house parties were something of high school - not 21 year old women who live with their parents.

In a house as nice as theirs, surely it must be some kind of fancy dinner party. She must be playing hostess.

Holy shit, I have nothing to wear to something as posh as that. Most of my dresses are old grungy things I find second hand - while I think they're very nice, it's not exactly what one wears to a fancy party.

Then I stop. This is Grace. I haven't known the girl long, but something tells me she mentally has never left high school.

I find a sage green mini dress in the back of my closet. My cousin sent it to me a few months ago, alongside some other things. The weather is warming up now, and I've been in a few house parties in my time and know how hot things can get.

I find some jewellery to wear - my favourite chunky necklaces and earrings - and I leave them out.

I do enjoy getting ready for social gatherings. While it would have been nice to spend the night with my piano, it's nice to have friends.

A few hours later, after a shower, and a lot of hair taming, I make my way over to Grace's house. It's reaching 9pm, I hope I'm not late.

I knock on her door, and she opens it. She smiles. "Ophie! You made it!" she says, hugging me. "Come in!"

"Where are your parents?" I ask, following her in.

"Business trip, babes."

I follow her into the living room. There's some random boys drinking, and Paramore is blasting. The lads turn.

"Grace brought us another girl!" One of them shouts. They all turn.

"Guys, you're going to be nice to Ophelia. She's new and English isn't her first language."

"Where you from, darling?" one of them asks.

"Greece."

"What you doing in Liverpool, then? Imagine!"

I smile. I've heard that so many times since getting here.

"Come on, darling, I'll get you a drink." The boy says. He takes my arm. He's tall, with dark hair. "I'm Chris."

"I'm Ophelia." I smile. He leads me to Grace's kitchen, and sits me down.

"And what does Ophelia drink?"

"Oh, uh, vodka recently."

"Ah, the Russian way. Well, darling, ask and you'll get." He finds a shot glass. "The other girls coming?"

"Don't know."

He shrugs. "I bet they are. They like it here."

"Don't blame them."

He hands me a shot of vodka. "Go on, girl, neck it. I dare you." Chris smiles.

"Alright." I say, bringing it to my lips, tilting my head back, and swallowing. I cough as it burns my throat.

"Oi, what's going on?" I turn and see Conley. "No one said you could come here. What you doing with her?"

"Con, mate, just getting her a drink. Gracie invited me." He goes over. "Where's the pup?"

"She's sleeping. After what you did you have some nerve to show up here."

"Well, you didn't invite me, your sister did."

"She won't listen to me when I tell her. Ophelia? Don't let him get you drunk. I've watched him sexually harass multiple drunk girls."

I open my mouth to talk, but Chris steps in. "Oi, oi, you got the wrong idea, mate. That wasn't harassing, I was just dancing with her."

Conley shakes his head. "I'd leave now if I were you." he says to me. "I know I am."

"How you gonna leave when Millie is asleep, mate?" Chris asks.

"Well, she can wake up. Ophelia, you coming?"

I look at Chris. I feel a pit of nausea in my stomach, glancing at the empty shot glass. What if I'd let him make me more?

"Yes. I'm coming." I say.

Conley returns to what I assume is his bedroom - it's downstairs, presumably for his own benefit. He comes out a few minutes later, with his coat, his dog, and a crutch.

"You got a coat?"

"No." I reply.

"It's freezing. Let me get you one of my hoodies." He turns back. I feel bad for a moment, but it seems he's gotten used to whatever predicament lead to him being disabled.

He throws me a grey hoodie. I pull it on top of my dress, and the two of us leave.