Make a Wish

Amy and Steve have been inseparable since college, and are desperate to open up their own designer studio. However, they face problems that make their dream seem so far away and out of reach. Will they overcome these obstacles and fulfil their dream?
Instead of showing the problems they might face during business, I have decided to write a series of short chapters based on how they got there and what they went through to reach their dream.
-My entry into the Beat Girl: Fan Fiction competition :)

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6. Home

After a month or so of booming business, Emma and I had raised loads of money, but not enough to cover my share of the cost for the studio. After all my hard work, it seemed like I had gotten so close, and no I wasn't getting anywhere. 

I had to tell Steve that I'd tried, and I was still far from close to reaching my goal. I hadn't seen him since that evening in the cafe. He hadn't tried to contact me either. This only made me more worried.

I tried to ring his phone but there was no answer.

Grabbing my keys, I locked the apartment door behind me. 

I trekked across the hall, down the stairs and onto the street outside, I made my way to Steve's place.

What if something awful had happened? What if he was killed in some gory car accident when his entire body went through the window screen? Or maybe he got stuck in the lift in his apartment block, and starved to death. All of these outrageous thoughts popped into my head. Something could have happened...

When I reached his apartment, I knocked several times. Strangely, he didn't reply. Getting irritated, I started to call his name whilst pounding my fist on the door.

"Will you stop that?" an old man said, peering his head round the door next to me. 

"Do you know if Steve is home?" I asked the man impatiently.

"Steve? Oh no, he's at his studio," he explained. "He's been very busy decorating that thing. I don't know where he gets his energy from."

I stared at the man in shock. Steve had bought the studio without me? Where did he get the rest of the money?

"Do you know where the studio is?" 

"Across town, next to the market," the man stated before closing his door.

For a moment, I stood glued to the floor, suddenly feeling betrayed.

I never really thought he'd open up a studio without me.

I found myself marching across town and towards the market. He had a lot of explaining to do. I was selfish to think that but I wanted to know if he had opened it up with some other partner. Maybe he'd found a boyfriend who had the same interests with him and wanted to open up a designer studio.

When the studio came in sight, I froze. I stared up at the bright purple letter above the window.

Amy & Steve's Place.

I felt a warm sensation in my stomach. Was this truly happening? Or was I dreaming.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to wake myself up, but when I opened my eyes, the purple letters were still there.

This was actually happening.

I rushed inside to see Steve with a paint roller in his hand. The room was painted a variety of bright colours and patterns, with paintings on the walls. Racks of clothes we had made and never sold. A couple of sewing machines, baskets full of thread and ribbon.

He beamed his angelic smile at me.

"Welcome home, Amy," he said.

I looked at him curiously. Home?

He laughed, took my hand and lead me through the door at the back of the room. Behind the door was a set of stairs.

"You see that?" Steve said, pointing to the stairs. "They lead to our apartment above the studio."

I stared at him, wide eyed and my mouth hanging on the floor.

"How did you do this?" I asked, quietly. "More importantly, why?"

"I borrowed some money off my parents, they know I'll pay them back eventually."

I was speechless. My best friend had done all of this for me.

"I wasn't going to tell you until we were up and running, but seems like it's too late," he smiled.

I pulled him into a tight hug, overwhelmed with emotion.

"After everything I've done to you."

Steve didn't say another word, he simply nodded. I hugged him again before climbing the stairs to my new home.

The living room was painted white and teal, with a plush brown sofa. The kitchen was spacious and welcoming. My room, was somewhat unexpected. The ceiling was covered in glow-in-the dark stars. 

Even though they weren't real stars, my eyes stung with tears.

The glow-in-the-dark ones were a reminder that the stars would forever be there, shining bright, guiding me, even if I lost faith in myself. My mother would look down at me, and be proud. 

She would be proud that my dream had come true.

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