by Alice Oseman
First, a few people I recognised from Pride Soc showed up. Sunil immediately went out to greet them, and eventually gestured for the rest of us to come say hi. Moments later, another small group of people arrived, and Sunil introduced them as his friends from his orchestra. They all started rambling about how much they’d been looking forward to this.
I didn’t know whether that scared me or excited me.
Next, Sadie arrived with a couple of friends. She came to say a quick hello before sitting down in the front row, the most intimidating choice of seat possible.
Soon after, Jess arrived, and after saying hi to the Pride Soc gang, went to see Sadie. They hugged and sat down together, seeming to be good friends. University was a small world.
A gaggle of large boys showed up and I had no idea who they were until Jason went over to greet them – they were a few of his rowing teammates. And then two other people showed up, again complete strangers to me, but Pip ran over to them, hugged them and then introduced them as Lizzie and Leo, two friends she’d made at LatAm Soc.
I didn’t have anyone who came along specifically to see me. Neither did Rooney.
I didn’t mind, though. Who I had here – these four people – was enough.
And despite my lack of contribution, we had an audience. Enough to fill up three whole rows of seats.
Maybe that wasn’t a lot. But it felt like a lot to me. It felt like what we were doing mattered.
At three minutes to two, the five of us gathered in the right wing and huddled up.
‘Does anyone else feel like they need to shit?’ asked Pip.
‘Yes,’ said Rooney immediately, while Sunil said, ‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly put it like that.’
‘We’re going to be fine,’ said Jason. ‘Everyone relax.’
‘You telling me to relax makes me even less relaxed,’ said Pip.
‘Whatever happens,’ I said, ‘it’s been fun, right? It’s all been fun.’
Everyone nodded. We all knew it had.
Whatever happened with the play, with the society, with our strange little friendship group …
It had all been so much fun.
‘Let’s do this,’ said Jason, and we all put our hands in.
Jason was on stage first. With a microphone and dressed as Romeo – in brightly coloured contrasting prints.
‘This is just a little pre-show announcement,’ he said. ‘Firstly – thank you everyone for coming. Very nice to see such a large and impressive turnout, no doubt thanks to our incredibly extensive publicity campaign.’
There were some chortles in the audience.
‘Secondly, I just wanted to inform you that we’ve had some … mild issues, trying to prepare this play. We had some … cast disputes. And we’ve had to rush through some of the final scenes. Everything is fine now, we hope, but … it’s been quite the journey getting here. There’ve been a lot of tears and heated WhatsApp messages.’
There were more chuckles in the crowd.
‘For those of you who don’t know,’ Jason continued, ‘we at the Shakespeare Society decided that for our first ever show, we would perform a selection of scenes rather than just one play. All of these scenes are, in one way or another, about love – but we leave it up to you to interpret what sort of love these scenes are depicting. Pure, toxic, romantic, platonic – we wanted to explore all sorts. In any case, it’s going to be quite a bit shorter than a regular play, so we’ll all get out in time for a late pub lunch.’
Some whoops from the crowd.
‘Lastly,’ said Jason, ‘four of us wanted to say that we’re dedicating this performance to the person who managed to bring us all together after everything sort of fell apart.’
He turned and looked at me in the wings, his eyes finding mine.
‘Georgia Warr is the reason this play is even happening,’ he said. ‘And it might just be a small play, but it matters to all of us. Quite a lot. And Georgia deserves to have something made just for her. So, this one’s for you, Georgia. This is a play about love.’
It was a bit of a mess, but it was wonderful. We started with a comedy, Rooney and Pip going on as Benedick and Beatrice, and soon the audience were in stitches. I somehow found myself hearing the story of Much Ado About Nothing as if I had never heard it before. It was alive in front of me. It was beautiful.
Twelfth Night was up next. Which meant it was nearly time for me to go on.
And that’s when I realised I was fine.
No nausea. No running to the bathroom like Romeo and Juliet in Year 13.
I was nervous, sure. But a normal level of nervous, mixed with excitement to perform, to act, to do the thing I really, really enjoyed.
And when I went on and did my ‘Come away, death’ speech, I really did have fun. Jason and Sunil went on after me as Orsino and Viola, and I watched from one side, smiling, relieved, happy. I’d done it. We’d done it.
Jason and Rooney did some Romeo and Juliet, making it look as passionate as if they really were dating. Then all of us did some King Lear, where Lear tries to figure out which of his daughters loves him the most. And then I was Prospero with Sunil as Ariel from The Tempest, both of us needing the other but wanting to be free from our magical bond.
Rooney and Pip came back and did more Much Ado, where Benedick and Beatrice finally admit they love each other, and when they kissed, the audience roared with applause.
And finally, we ended with A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Or, rather, I did.
I sat in the throne of flowers and read the final lines to conclude the play.
‘So, good night unto you all.’ I smiled gently at the faces of the audience, hoping, praying this had all been enough. That this wouldn’t be the last time I performed with my best friends. ‘Give me your hands if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.’
Sunil dimmed the stage lights, and then the audience were on their feet.
We took our bows as the audience cheered. This wouldn’t go down in university history. This wouldn’t be anything special to anyone else. People would forget about this, or just remember it as that kind of weird but interesting student play they saw one time.
Nobody else in the universe would see this play.
But I guess that made it ours.
‘It was a mess,’ said Sadie, eyebrows raised, and arms folded. ‘Your scene transitions were questionable at best, and your staging was … very unusual.’
The five of us, who were sitting in a row on the edge of the stage, collectively drooped.
‘But –’ she continued, holding up a finger – ‘I did not dislike it. In fact, I thought it was very creative, and definitely more interesting than if you’d come on and done a very average, abridged version of Romeo and Juliet.’
‘So …’ Rooney spoke up. ‘Was it … are we …’
‘Yes,’ said Sadie, ‘you can keep your Shakespeare Society.’
Pip and Rooney started screaming and hugging each other. Sunil put a hand to his chest and whispered, ‘Thank God,’ while Jason swung his arm round me and grinned, and I realised that I was grinning too. I was happy. I was so, so happy.
After Sadie left, Rooney was the first to hug me. She clambered over the others and just fell on top of me, pushing me down on to the stage and wrapping her arms round me, and I laughed, and she laughed, and we were both just laughing and laughing. Pip joined us next, shouting, ‘I want to be included,’ and leaping on top of us. Sunil rested his head on Rooney’s back, and then Jason wrapped his body round the four of us, and we all just stayed like that for a moment, laughing and babbling and holding each other. At the bottom of the scrum, I was basically being crushed, but it was comforting, in a weird way. The weight of all of them on top of me. Around me. With me.
We didn’t have to say it, but we all knew. We all knew what we’d found here. Or, I did, at least. I knew. I’d found it.
And this time there was no big declaration. No grand gesture.
It was just us, holding each
other.
The house was on a street corner. A Victorian terraced building, but not an aesthetically pleasing one, and it had worryingly small windows. The five of us stood outside, staring up at it, nobody speaking. No one wanted to say what we were all thinking: it looked kind of shit.
A month after our play performance, me, Rooney, Pip and Jason realised that we did not have anywhere to live next year. Durham University’s college accommodation was primarily for first-year students and a few third- and fourth-year students – second-years were generally expected to find their own place to live. So most freshers had formed little groups around December and January, gone house hunting, and signed rental agreements.
Due to the drama of this year, we had totally missed the memo. And by the end of April, most of the university-arranged rental accommodation in Durham was already completely taken for the next academic year, which left us having to trawl through dodgy adverts on private landlord websites.
‘I’m sure it’s nicer on the inside,’ said Rooney, stepping forward and knocking on the door.
‘You said that about the last three,’ said Pip, arms folded.
‘And I’ll be right, eventually.’
‘Just to say,’ said Sunil, ‘maybe we should reconsider how bothered we are about having a living room.’
Although Sunil was in his third year, he’d decided at the last minute to return next year to do a master’s degree in music. He still had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, which I thought was very relatable and understandable, and he said he loved being at Durham and wanted to stay for a little while longer.
But Jess was leaving at the end of the year. In fact, most of Sunil’s third-year friends were. As soon as we discovered this, we asked him to live with us, and he said yes.
The door opened and a tired student let us in, explaining that everyone was out at lectures except her so we could walk around and look in any of the rooms we wanted. We all headed into the kitchen first, which doubled up as the living room with a sofa on one side and the kitchen counters on the other. It was all very old and well used, but seemed functional and clean, which was all we needed. We were students. We couldn’t be picky.
‘It’s actually not bad,’ said Sunil.
‘See?’ said Rooney, gesturing around. ‘I told you this would be the one.’
Jason folded his arms. ‘It’s quite … small.’ The top of his head was very close to the ceiling.
‘But no black mould,’ Pip pointed out.
‘And there’s enough room to have everyone here,’ I said. By ‘everyone’, I meant the five of us, plus the others who’d been coming along to our rehearsals – well, they weren’t really rehearsals any more. It wasn’t like we had another play to prepare for this year, and we were all getting busy with exams and coursework, so we usually just met up to chat, watch movies, and get takeaway food. Every Friday night in my and Rooney’s room.
Sometimes Sunil would bring Jess along, or Pip would bring her friends Lizzie and Leo. Sometimes half the Castle men’s rowing team showed up – loud boys who scared me at first, but were actually quite nice when you got to know them. Sometimes it’d just be the original five, or fewer if we were busy.
It had become a ritual. My favourite university ritual.
‘And this is the perfect place for Roderick!’ said Rooney brightly, pointing at an empty corner next to the sofa arm.
We headed towards the two downstairs bedrooms, which were both pretty ordinary. Jason and I peered into the second one. It was almost as messy as Pip’s current bedroom.
‘I always wanted a downstairs bedroom,’ said Jason. ‘I don’t know why. It just seemed cool.’
‘You’d be right next to the road.’
‘I think I’d like it. Ambient noise. And look!’ He pointed at a patch of empty wall above the bed – enough room for a framed photograph. ‘The perfect place for Mystery Inc.’
It’d been Jason’s birthday the week before. One of his presents from me: a framed photograph of the whole Scooby-Doo gang. All five of them.
‘I’d like a downstairs room,’ said Sunil, who’d appeared behind us. ‘I like being close to the kitchen. Easy snack access.’
Jason glanced at him warily. ‘As long as you’re not practising cello late at night.’
‘You mean you don’t want to listen to my beautiful music in the early hours of the morning?’
Jason laughed and headed upstairs, leaving Sunil and me to wander into the first bedroom, careful not to touch any of the current occupant’s stuff.
And then Sunil said, ‘I wanted to run an idea by you, Georgia.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Well, I’m only going to be Pride Soc president for a couple more months, and before I have to step down … I wanted to set up a new group within Pride Soc. A society for aromantic and asexual students. And I suppose I wondered … whether you’d want to be involved. Not necessarily as president of it, but … well, I don’t know. I just wanted to ask. No pressure, though.’
‘Oh. Um …’ I immediately felt nervous about the idea. I still had days where I wasn’t brimming with confidence about my sexuality, despite all the days where I felt proud and grateful that I knew who I was and what I wanted. Maybe the bad days would become less and less common, but … I didn’t know. I couldn’t know.
Maybe a lot of people felt like that about their identity. Maybe it would just take time.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’m not even out to my parents.’
Sunil nodded understandingly. ‘That’s OK. Just let me know after you’ve thought about it.’
I nodded back. ‘I will.’
He gazed into the bedroom at the way the evening light was hitting the floor. ‘It’s been a good year, but I’m looking forward to stepping down. I think I deserve a more restful year, next year.’ He smiled to himself. ‘It’d be nice. To have a rest.’
There were three more bedrooms upstairs, and Pip and Rooney immediately beelined for the most obviously large one.
‘I’m having this one,’ said Pip and Rooney simultaneously, then glared at each other.
‘I need more room,’ said Rooney. ‘I’m like a whole foot taller than you.’
‘Um, firstly, that’s a lie, you are only a few inches taller –’
‘At least six inches.’
‘And secondly, I need more room because I have way more clothes than you.’
‘You’re both going to be sleeping in the same room loads anyway,’ Jason muttered, rolling his eyes, and Pip shot him a look that mixed embarrassment with alarm while Rooney immediately went bright red, opened her mouth, and began to protest.
Rooney had still been spending nights out of our room. The first time it happened after the play, I was scared that she’d gone back to heavy drinking and clubbing with strangers, but when I eventually confronted her about it, she timidly revealed that she was spending all of those nights in Pip’s room. And the clothes she kept leaving there were a bit of a giveaway.
She’d spend nights in our room too, though. Lots of nights. It wasn’t like she’d replaced me, or I was less important.
She was one of my best friends. I was one of hers. And we both understood what that meant now.
Once Rooney had finished berating Jason for bringing up her sex life and Jason had tactically retreated towards the bathroom, I watched as Rooney and Pip stood together in the doorway. Rooney gently touched Pip’s hand with hers, and Rooney leant towards her and whispered something I couldn’t hear that made Pip grin wide.
I stepped away to peer inside another of the bedrooms. This one had a big sash window, a sink in the corner, and whoever lived here had stuck polaroid photos all over one of the walls. The carpet was kind of odd – it had a bold red pattern that reminded me of Gran’s curtains – but I didn’t dislike it. I didn’t dislike any of it.
It wasn’t fancy, or anything. But I could really imagine myself living here. I could imagine all of us here, starting a new academic year,
coming home and slumping on the sofa next to each other, chatting in the kitchen in the mornings over bowls of cereal, crowding into the biggest bedroom for movie nights, falling asleep in each other’s beds when we were too tired to move.
I could imagine all of it. A future. A small future, and not a forever future, but a future, nonetheless.
‘What d’you think?’ asked Rooney, who’d come to stand next to me in the doorway.
‘It’s … OK,’ I said. ‘It’s not perfect.’
‘But?’
I smiled. ‘But I think we could have fun here.’
She smiled back. ‘I agree.’
Rooney returned to continue arguing with Pip over the largest bedroom, but I just stayed there for a moment, looking at what might be my future living space. After months of sleeping next to one of my best friends, I was a little nervous about going back to a solo bedroom. Sleeping in a silent room with just my thoughts.
I had time to get used to the idea, though.
Until then, we would keep the beds together.
AVEN (The Asexuality Visibility and Education Network): https://www.asexuality.org/
What Is Asexuality?: http://www.whatisasexuality.com/
Aces & Aros: https://acesandaros.org/
AZE, a journal publishing asexual, aromantic, and agender writers and artists: https://azejournal.com/
AUREA (Aromantic-spectrum Union for Recognition, Education, and Advocacy): https://www.aromanticism.org/
Indian Aces: https://www.facebook.com/IndianAces
Asexual resources at the Trevor Project: https://www.thetrevor project.org/trvr_support_center/asexual/
This book was the most difficult, frustrating, terrifying and liberating thing I’ve ever made. So many wonderful people helped me through this journey:
Claire Wilson, my incredible agent, who has received more than her fair share of emotional emails. My editor, Harriet Wilson; my books’ designer, Ryan Hammond; and everyone else at HarperCollins who has worked on this book – thank you for your tireless efforts and support for my stories, despite me needing to extend almost every single deadline I was given. Emily Sharratt, Sam Stewart, Ant Belle and Keziah Reina for their editing, insight, and beta-reading, often under very speedy time constraints. My writer soulmate, Lauren James, who has put up with the brunt of my woes regarding this book and helped me so much with structure and pacing. My friends and family, in real life and online. And my readers who have cheered me along. Thank you so, so much, everyone.
