1. Lara

Chapter 1

Lara

“ I f I have to hear ‘but she bit me first!’ once more this week, I may very well bite her myself.”

The picture in front of me freezes. I hear Mia giggle and what I can only assume is Harper choking on her mouthful of coffee. It takes a few seconds before the video buffers and reconnects. While it may be 5:00pm here in Brisbane, it’s only 7:00am where two of my favourite people reside; the same two I happen to be FaceTiming right now.

It’s Friday afternoon, and we’re on our ‘Weekly Debrief’ call—code for ‘let’s talk shit about the week that was’, even though the girls still have Friday to get through. We started our Weekly Debrief calls over a year ago now, and they’re still the highlight of my week.?

“Lara, the children can’t really be that bad, can they?” Harper asks, having recovered from her near-choking episode.?

“Oh Harps, you’ve got no idea,” I say while plucking my wine glass off the coffee table and leaning into the comfort of my couch. It’s emerald green in colour, made from a beautiful suede that’s soft to the touch. This couch is the only piece of furniture that would even border on the edge of luxury within my tiny, suburban apartment, and even that would be a stretch.

Through the screen of my laptop, Mia and Harper sit side by side on their bay window. Although it’s morning, London in December means the sun doesn’t begin rising until at least now, if not later.

Thankfully these two are ‘morning people’, so they don’t mind waking up earlier for our calls. Well, mostly. I say ‘morning people’ because when it comes to the girls, it’s more of a varying degree of morning. Harper is up by 5:30am most days, whereas Mia’s idea of an early rise is around now.

The contrast between the two of them has me holding back a giggle. Mia is dressed in one of her signature oversized tracksuit sets, looking as though she just rolled out of bed. Her long blonde hair is tied in a messy updo on the crown of her head. She attempts to stifle a yawn with the cuff of her soft pink sweater but fails miserably.?

Harper, on the other hand, is the portrait of sophistication. Immaculately dressed as always. Today's outfit of choice pairs a pretty white blouse with a billowing teal green skirt. At least, that’s how it appears in her seated position through the small frame on my screen. Harper’s brunette lob is in salon-perfect waves, and her curtain bangs fall softly over her face as she sips what is probably her second cup of coffee.

Today I’m Team Mia, as I too am in my pyjamas. This evening's attire consists of a navy satin short set, the day’s makeup hanging on for dear life, and my hair still holding Monday’s curls like an absolute champ.

I’ve spent the past nine months working in administration at the local primary school, during which time I’ve overheard all sorts of bizarre excuses and explanations for why children do the things they do. Who would’ve thought biting was still a concern at age ten? Not me, that’s for sure.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike children. But working around them for the rest of my life? Add it to the list of “I don’t fucking think so”, which includes the likes of working in the local supermarket deli, barista-ing, and Uber driving. I haven’t actually done the last one, but I’m quite positive it’s not the career for a socially anxious introvert.

Mia’s cheerful voice interrupts my inner thoughts. “Well Lars, unfortunately I can’t relate to the biting or the tough week.” Despite the fact she’s probably been awake all of 15 minutes, Mia is as animated as ever.?

Her eyes gleam with enthusiasm as she continues. “I came up with a new cocktail, and I must say, it’s divine! I haven’t completely decided on a name for it yet, but I have one front-runner I need to run by the two of you.”

For the past few years, Mia has worked at The Bookend, a quaint old bookstore-turned-pub a little further in towards Covent Garden, and spends her free time creating cocktails inspired by her favourite thing: fictional men.

“Ooh I’m intrigued, what’s in this one?” I ask, rubbing my hands together in anticipation.?

Most recently, she’s introduced us to two of her latest creations. The Icebreaker—relating to Hannah Grace’s novel of the same name—is a frozen variation of the popular Porn Star Martini, aptly named after the delectable Nate Hawkins. Mia also has her own personal take on the classic hot toddy: The James Toddy. Inspired by none other than the Cassius James, of Brittanee Nicole’s Loving Whiskey Duet, this standard hot toddy with the addition of freshly ground cardamom is the perfect winter cocktail packed with spice.

One night, while Mia and Harper were visiting me in June, Mia made an entire cocktail night agenda so I could have the pleasure— her words, not mine—of sampling each of her signature Fictional Men cocktails. Each was displayed impeccably, with subtle hints referencing their origins.

The Longwood—derived from Hailey Dickert’s The Sister Between Us —was given its beautiful shade of red thanks to the sweet raspberry syrup and displayed with a single tulip; Mia had insisted on three, but sadly a standard cocktail glass just wouldn’t allow it. A cocktail jug, however? The perfect size.

Similarly, one of her personal favourites, The Spicy Slade—a nod to Lauren Asher’s Throttled —was always presented in the sleekest of glasses. The chilli-rimmed beverage was a huge hit with the locals and tourists alike, especially those who were familiar with the man behind the name.?

Whipping out a notebook from lord knows where, Mia clears her throat before continuing, “It’s quite possibly my best idea to date.” Mia flips to a previously bookmarked page and reads aloud. “The Screaming O: Hunt Athalar’s Version. Think of it like Taylor’s Version; something we all know and love, recreated by someone with even more experience.”

The wineglass in my hand is no longer safe as I burst into a fit of laughter. With my eyes squeezed tight from the sheer force of my laugh, I can’t see the girls, but I hear them. We must look and sound like crazy people; one of us almost squealing while another has her mouth wide with no sound coming out. That happens to me on occasion, but only if I’m laughing incredibly hard. Given we’re all very familiar with the scene behind Mia’s latest inspiration, this is one of those occasions.?

Managing to recover the fastest, Harper claps her hands with joy. “Alright, let’s hear it—What this Week!” ‘What this Week’ is a little segment in our call where we talk about what we’re currently watching, listening to, and most importantly, reading. The three of us are huge readers, and have books to thank for bringing us together from opposite sides of the world.

Eighteen months or so ago, I decided I wanted to join the Bookstagram community as a bit of a creative outlet and to talk about my books with like-minded people. I love that so many of my friends and family read, but we don’t share my particular taste in books. Said taste being the likes of decidedly spice-heavy novels, or questionably dark romances.

One of the first accounts I started interacting with was one belonging to two high school best friends who lived in England. The three of us quickly learnt we shared many favourite books, and we’d find ourselves talking most days. We discovered we shared a lot of common interests as well; training in the gym, baking, and failing to spot the red flags so obviously being waved by the men we interacted with.

As the months went on and we got to know each other better, the conversations became less about books and more about keeping each other updated on everyday life. Having a large time zone difference made it difficult to keep conversations fluid, and so the Weekly Debrief calls were born.?

“I’ll go first!” Harper seems overly enthusiastic, sitting up straight and on the edge of her seat, so Mia and I let her take the stage. “I’m currently watching, and absolutely living for, Bridgerton. Lars, you were right—this show is crack. Don’t even get me started on the Duke.”

Mia laughs whilst trying to speak, making her hard to understand. “Harps, I hate to break it to you, but neither you nor Lara have ever even had crack.” Her laugh is a particular breed of unique, a hybrid of sorts. There are sections of witch-like cackles interspersed with an almost wheeze. The longer she goes on, the more prominent the wheeze becomes.

Harper feigns shock. “Miss Mia, is this your way of revealing you’re a secret crack addict?”

“So what if I was?” The prominent lift in Mia’s eyebrows is a silent challenge.

“Mia honey, we’ve watched you struggle to use a Vicks inhaler. I think it’s safe to say none of us are secret crack users,” I respond, grinning wickedly at Mia through the screen. “Harper, please proceed!” This gets one final snicker from Harper before she continues.

“This will come as no surprise, but I have been listening to true crime podcasts.”

As if planned, Mia and I dramatically roll our eyes in unison.?

“Harper, you do know there’s a wonderful thing called music you can listen to instead of gruesome murder retellings, right?” Mia’s tone is playful, a small smirk tugging on her lips as Harper turns to face her with a huff.

“Okay ladies, let’s play nice,” I tease. “You can listen to anything you want, Harps, as long as you tell us what we really want to hear; what are you reading?”

“The absolute literary masterpiece that is Give Me More by Sara Cate.” She beams, holding up her paperback triumphantly, not dissimilarly to the way Rafiki holds baby Simba. The familiar face of a half-naked man appears in my line of sight, his ‘come fuck me’ eyes staring right into my soul.

When it comes to smut, I’m partial to a cutesy illustrated cover rather than a male model shot. However, there’s something about the tattoos and leather jacket sported on the front of Give Me More.

I lock eyes with Mia through the screen and watch her eyebrows raise the same way mine do. Her expression of surprise reflects mine. A moment passes and smiles stretch across our faces as we look back at Harper.

“She sees the light!”

“It’s a Christmas miracle!”

Mia and I excitedly talk over each other, a regular occurrence on these three-way calls. We’re all easily excitable, which is both entertaining and chaotic. The three of us could never be allowed in a library together; the havoc we’d cause would be tremendous.?

We’ve spent the past several months trying to goad Harper over to the dark side and dip her toes into this series, but she was reluctant, to say the least. Of the three of us, she’d be labelled as the more conventional one when it comes to romance novels and their contents.

While Mia and I lap up the smut, Harper was never as exposed to that genre the way we were—we’d been the 16-year-olds secretly reading the Fifty Shades series and convincing our mothers it was a “teen series”. Imagine my mother’s shock when she watched the movie several years later. After that, she didn’t dare ask too many questions when it came to the books I was reading.

Having read Praise and fallen in love with the Salacious crew immediately, we knew Harper simply had to read it too. She was hesitant at first, but I strongly believe she has a closet praise kink, and this book brought her out of her shell. Needless to say, we’re overjoyed with the progress she’s made of her own accord through the series. Soon the apprentice will become the master, and we’ll be going to her for smut recommendations rather than her coming to us; what a moment in history that’ll be.?

“I hate to admit it, but the two of you were right. This series is sensational. Who knew you could have a healthy balance of smut and storyline?” Harper returns the book to her lap before turning toward Mia. “You’re up.”

“Embracing my overachiever archetype, I’ve been rewatching a TV series and a movie series this week, and I have no regrets. Bridgerton continues to hit quite sensationally the second time around, as does the Fifty Shades trilogy. Really, I’m getting the best of both eras for sex and smut.”

Stifling a grin, I playfully roll my eyes at Mia as Harper smacks her on the arm.

“Must everything revolve around sex when it comes to the two of you?” Harper shakes her head ever so slightly as she speaks.

“Yes,” Mia and I respond in unison, causing us to burst into hysterics. Harper fails at maintaining a straight face and joins in. If the girl's neighbours weren’t already awake, they certainly would be after hearing this raucous.

“The sex doesn’t stop there!” Mia exclaims with a wide grin. “Harps, you might need to prepare yourself for what I’ve been reading this week—Pucking Around by Emily Rath.”

Harper reaches over and grabs the book off Mia’s lap; her brows pull together slightly as she lifts it into view. “This book has sex? This cute little cover doesn’t portray that. Where’s the half-naked model shot?”

“This book is sex Harps. We’re talking about one woman, three men, absolute filth.” The smile splitting the lower half of Mia’s face is downright devilish. Harper’s expression? Quite the opposite. I’ve never seen her look so confused.

“Honey, let me break it down for you.” Mia turns to Harper, levelling with her. “Girl meets three boys. Girl likes three boys and they like her, and each other. Said three boys proceed to fuck the girl in a loving manner, resulting in some of the hottest sex scenes you’ll read. I’m going to assume the look on your face means I don’t need to spell it out any further?”

She’s displaying a look of astonishment, crossed with . . . No, it couldn’t be. Is she impressed ? Colour me shocked.

“I’ve seen this book on almost every surface of our apartment the past week, and I never would’ve guessed it contained such dirty content.” The small grin on Harper's lips is trying oh so hard to remain hidden, but it’s there.?

“I’ll be finished it by this evening.” Mia bumps her shoulder into Harper’s as she promises, “I’ll leave it on the bench for you.”

Harper’s cheeks turn pink, and I stifle a giggle.

“I’m quite alright with my current read, thank you.” Harper’s cheeks turn a slightly deeper shade of pink. “But I may take you up on that once I finish.”

“Of course you will, you little hoe.” Smirking, Mia continues, “To finish off, I’ve been listening to the excellence of Tchaikovsky.”

That takes me by such a surprise that I fold in half, tears springing to my eyes as I laugh. I wipe away those that escape down my cheek and look back to see the girls in a similar situation.

“We truly never know what to expect when it comes to you,” I say. I’m still recovering from my outburst as the girls tell me it’s my turn to share. “I’m still bingeing The Bold Type. If the two of you haven’t jumped on that bandwagon yet, I’m not going to be mad, just disappointed.”

“Prepare to be disappointed because we completely forgot about it. Again.” Harper looks at me briefly before lowering her eyes and feigning guilt.

“It’s honestly amazing, and the girls remind me so much of the three of us when we’re together. As per usual, I’m on a Shania kick and absolutely devouring every album she’s ever made.”

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved Shania Twain. My grandmother was her self-proclaimed number-one fan while I was growing up, so we’d always have little dance parties when I visited her. We’ve stayed true to Shania over the years, and always celebrate her new album releases with a wine and ‘Shania on Repeat’ night.

“As for books, I’m rereading and annotating Tangled in Tinsel by Queen Trilina and loving every second of it.”

“Oh Lars, you and that bloody book.” Harper shakes her head at me. “Was once not enough? Actually, don’t bother answering because clearly it wasn’t.”

A cheesy grin expands over my face, which I direct right at her. She knows me well enough by now to understand once is never enough. Harper is yet to read this one, but I plan to convince her soon enough.

“May I remind you that Tangled in Tinsel is a holiday classic. By not indulging in this highbrow literature, you are not only doing yourself a disservice, but you are also breaking the hearts of millions around the world.” I cross one leg over the other, clasping my hands around my knee, and let out a small sigh.

Mia says nothing; she doesn’t need to. Appreciation shines through her eyes; smut lover supporting smut lover. God, I love my friends.

“Okay Lara, I understand this book means a lot to you. You don’t need to use the grand speech on me.” Amusement lights up Harper’s face as she continues. “Mark my words, I’ll read your Bible before December ends.”

Cheers erupt through my apartment; Mia and I the only source of the chaos.

“Christmas has come early!” Her promise has a feeling of elation washing over me.

But as I sit watching my friends laugh together, I’m hit with a sudden and unexpected wave of sadness. It’s been six long months since I’ve hugged the two of them, and right now, I’d give almost anything to squeeze them again.?

I have a small but close-knit group of friends here in Brisbane who I love dearly, but recently it’s become more and more prevalent that I’m in a markedly different time of my life than they are.?

My closest friends are several years older than me. One is about to be married, another is in the midst of building a family home, and the other is preparing to move interstate to follow her dreams. I couldn’t be prouder of the three of them, but my life is a stark contrast to any of theirs.?

I’ve been single for the past two years, agonisingly navigating the sewage waters of online dating. My career prospects are few and far between. The only thing I’ve got going for me is my books, and unfortunately it isn’t an option to marry inanimate objects.

A phone rings on the other side of the screen, dragging me out of my self-pity spiral and back to the present.

“Sorry Lars, I have to take this,” Mia says with a tight smile, glancing up to meet my eyes after checking the Caller ID.

“Everything okay?” I ask Harper once Mia is out of earshot.

“Mostly. Just the ongoing issues with Satan. That was her calling.”

Satan is the girls’ other roommate. I’m sure she has a real name, but I couldn’t tell you what it is. To me, she’s always been Satan. The girls found her on a roommate website earlier in the year when they first moved into their Camden townhouse. She’d listed glowing reviews from supposed previous roommates, but it was obvious early on they were nothing but lies.?

“It baffles me why she won’t move out when she obviously despises living with you guys.” I take another sip from my almost empty glass as Harper continues to sip her coffee.

“Trust me, it baffles us even more.”

As I rise from my couch to grab myself another moscato, Mia reappears through the kitchen entryway, looking several degrees less smiley than she was five minutes ago. I hastily sit back down, not wanting to miss the story behind her expression.

“Well ladies, Harper and I are simultaneously fucked and freed,” she announces as her face re-enters the screen, and she dumps her phone onto the nearby throw cushion.

Harper’s face turns down, the disappointment obvious. “She didn’t.”

“She did indeed. Happy Friday to us.”

“Guys, what am I missing?”

The girls open their mouths and at the same time mutter, “She’s moving out.”

“She’s given us three months' notice, since that’s when her one-way ticket to Peru is booked for,” Mia continues.

The confusion in my expression morphs into frustration. “How can she bail on the lease like that? I know she’s awful, but this isn’t right! What will you two do? The rent is hardly?—”

“Lara, hon, take a breath.” Mia interrupts my babbling. “We’re big girls. We’ll find another flatmate, and all will be okay.”

“I’d rather move in myself than risk you two inviting another Satan to live with you.”

I’m not sure what response I’d expected, but it wasn’t their answering silence. In sync as always, the girls face each other, sharing a look. When they look back at me, they’re wearing expressions I can’t quite place.

“You two are worrying me, what’s the scheming look for?”

“Lara, that’s possibly the best idea you have ever had,” Harper says as Mia nods enthusiastically, causing her blonde bun to bob all over the place.?

“Okay, you’ve lost me. I didn’t have an idea?”

“Move in with us!” Mia exclaims.

“Ha! Oh, Mia. You know it was a joke, right?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Harper responds. I look between their conspiring faces, trying to determine what on earth is happening.

“You know I love you both, but I can’t up and move halfway across the world; that’s insane.”

“Why not?” the girls say in unison. “Lara, please know I mean these next words with nothing but love. What’s keeping you in Brisbane, or Australia, for that matter? You don’t like your job, you’re single, and the only ties you have are your parents and brother,” says Harper.?

“Ouch Harps, brutal. True, but brutal.” I wrap the cream throw adorning the couch around my shoulders, feeling a little cooler after the theoretical cold shower that was Harper’s words.?

“You should definitely think about it, Lara. I mean, can you imagine the mischief the three of us could create if we were in the same country?” Mia replies with a wink. A cheeky grin breaks out across her face, causing her dimples to pop.?

“Oh bugger, it’s seven thirty already. Sorry Lars, we have to cut it short this morning because Harps has a meeting,” Mia’s voice is laced with regret as she announces the end of my favourite Friday tradition.?

Harper, in my opinion, is the epitome of adulthood success and represents everything I want to be when I grow up. She’d be offended if she heard me say that since she’s not even a year older than me. At 28, Harper is in her dream field, working towards her dream career—she’s a senior accountant at one of London’s top accounting firms, with the dream of one day taking the reins as CFO. Being the headstrong person she is, I have no doubt Harper will achieve her goal in no time.

Meanwhile, Mia and I are still trying to figure out what the fuck we want to do with ourselves and our futures. I have the thought, ‘I am not qualified to be an adult’, at least twice a week; I imagine Mia has it even more frequently. We aren’t immature by any means, but we’re also incomparable to Harper and her assurance.

“Goodbye, my girls. Have a wonderful Friday!” The girls say their goodbyes and blow kisses to me through the screen.

Those three distinct beeps signal the end of the video call, but I don’t move to stand. Instead, I settle into the lounge, empty wine glass in hand, and think about the unimaginably crazy direction that conversation went. Me , move across the world to the UK? I couldn’t possibly. Could I?