Pyramus
Pyramus was halfway out of the halls when he realised he’d forgotten his headphones. He doubled back. Just as he entered his room, he heard the muffled voices of Thisbe and her mother. He couldn’t have been sure, but—
Ship labourer?!
A handsome ship labourer.
He smiled to himself.
He walked to the gym with a new swagger that morning, matured.
Thisbe
He was upset. Thisbe could tell. Even without hearing him on the phone before he started up his playlist of furious music.
‘Why can’t you be a dad for once? Why do I have to beg to see you? You leave the country with your new girlfriend and I gotta find out through an Auntie on Facebook?’
Pyramus
Pyramus had no idea why his face was wet. He knew his music was too loud. He was an asshole. He switched to his headphones and let the music directly smudge out his thoughts.
Thisbe
Knock and stay? Or knock and go. Knock and stay, right? That’s what a normal, rational human being would do. It wasn’t a big deal. She would knock and stay. Obviously. Why was her heartbeat knocking against her ribcage like that? Ew. What was wrong with her?
Pyramus
Pyramus thought he heard a knock at his door. He took a while to get up, but opened it to see a bag full of Tupperware so deliciously fragrant that his stomach growled. There was a message on a pink post-it note attached to it.
Hey. My mother gave me far too much food. Thought you might like some.
P.S. You single? I have a fifty-five-year-old woman who wants to take you out on a date. Thisbe xx
Thisbe
Had she really put two kisses? Desperate. Might as well have dropped to her knees in front of him. She flopped onto her bed and shut her eyes, hoping to erase the embarrassment.
Then there was a rap on her wall that was too purposeful for her to ignore.
She bolted upright.
‘Thanks, Thisbe. The food is delicious.’
While her name sounded good coming from his mouth, he’d very politely and graciously ignored the ill-advised quasi-flirtatious part of her note.
‘You’re welcome.’
Thisbe dropped back down on her bed and pulled her pillow over her face.
Pyramus
Why were his hands sweating? He’d never been more conscious of the fact that his hands had sweat glands till this very moment. He flexed them before knocking, as if he needed to prepare himself for what he was about to do. His instincts were correct, but he was still ill-prepared. In fairness, he wasn’t sure if anything could have prepared him. When she opened the door, Pyramus became acutely aware that his memory had not done justice to Thisbe’s face. In passing he saw her as cute, pretty, but now, up close, he saw that she was staggering, soul destroying and also restoring. Her eyes were round and bright, and he wanted to be guided by their light, her smile was soft and plush, as she bit into it. She was wearing gold hoops, that glinted like little halos in her ears in the white fluorescent of the industrial lights of the hallway. Her white crop top read ‘Cuz I’m black, bitch’ in stark black letters, and hovered over a cute belly button piercing, she wore grey jersey short-shorts that accentuated a soft, dimpled curvy body and her braids came down to a waist that gently dipped. She made the pace of his heartbeat quicken.
‘Hi,’ she said, and he realised he hadn’t spoken yet. Without a barrier, the melodiousness of her voice had a new clarity.
He nodded. ‘Hey. Uh, I’m—’
‘I know who you are.’
He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’
Her shoulder twitched. ‘I haven’t made up my mind.’
Her smile was wicked and should have had some kind of governmental guidelines on it. It was potent, illicit, and it went straight to his head.
‘I thought it would be easier to talk face to face. Are you the fifty-five-year-old woman who wants to take me on a date? Because you look really, really good for your age.’
Thisbe’s smile broadened. She nodded. ‘Thank you so much. It’s definitely not because of beauty sleep. You know, because your music keeps me up at night?’
Touché. Pyramus rubbed the back of his neck again and hung his head, releasing a sheepish smile. ‘Yeah . . . I’m really, genuinely sorry about that. Music is how I forget about the world. Problem is sometimes I . . . forget about the world.’
He wondered if Thisbe would like to share the world with him one day—
‘I get it. You’re lucky I like your music.’ That smile again. Her eyes flicked down shyly and she bit her lip. Pyramus was losing his mind. He cleared his throat. ‘Do you want to take some of this food down to the canteen and eat with me?’