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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3. Ocean of Emotion

A week had passed since my run-in with the debt collector. Steve had rung me several times, but I couldn't bare talking to him now. He would be so angry with me, he'd probably never speak to me again. Our friendship was so important to me that I wouldn't do anything to upset him, but I had no choice. 

I had helped Steve out with a lot of stuff, his sexuality, his self-consciousness, and he did the same for me. He told me every day that I was beautiful and it didn't matter what others thought. He was gay, but that didn't stop it from meaning anything. At least one person didn't think I was ridiculously ugly. 

Anyway that's not the point.

The point is that I can't bare to face him, I can't bare to hear his voice, I would just start to cry. I can only handle one disappointed person at a time, even though my mother isn't around, I know how she'd be.

My phone vibrated on the bureau next to my bed, and obviously it was Steve. I let it ring before checking the time. 8.00AM. I had an hour and a half before work.

Scrambling out of bed, I dragged myself to the shower, stripped out of my pyjamas and jumped in. I turned on the hot water and let the beads glide over my body, washing away the negative thoughts and emotions, letting them flow away with the water.

An hour later, I arrived early at the cafe. My boss, Emma, had me baking a new batch of cookies to display to customers. She was about fifty odd, her  face was greying, her hair was greying. The only feature that radiated life were her eyes. But you know what? The eyes are the door to the soul, and the soul lives for ever.

Emma popped out to get some more ingredients as we were low, and that's when all hell broke lose.

Steve entered the cafe. He was dressed in his usual 1940's style: shirt and bow tie.

"Amy?" he asked, rushing to my side. "What the hell have you been doing? You've been ignoring my calls and texts, I thought you'd gone and jumped off a bridge."

Well, I had thought about throwing myself out a window...

"Steve, I'm working," I sighed, busying myself by mixing ingredients in a bowl and checking the oven to see if the cookies were browning. 

He grabbed me and twisted me around so that I faced him. I was clutching the electric whisk, the mixture sprayed all across his face.

We couldn't help but laugh at the situation. I handed him a cloth to wipe his face.

"Amy, I'm being serious," he said, wiping the mixture off his face. "What's gotten into you?"

I found myself staring at the floor. I couldn't tell him. He'd hate me. I had to get rid of him.

"Steve, please go."

He frowned, crossed his arms and refused to move. His feet were rooted to the spot. He would not go down without a fight.

"I'm not going until you tell me what happened."

It was a losing battle. I didn't really have a choice, did I?

The shit was about to hit the fan...

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