For the first year of my university education, my parents decided that it would be important for social reasons to go into the university's halls. Unsurprisingly, I hated it. The administration split me up from Gene and so I was stuck with a load of slobbish idiots.
For our second year of university, our parents redeemed themselves. Being financially secure enough to do so, they bought a small house not far from the university and rented it out to myself, Gene and Gene's friend Yasuhara.
Our rent was just high enough to cover the mortgage and the bills. There were four bedrooms, though one lay unused, two bathrooms and a kitchen diner area. Perfect.
Gene was long since used to my habits and Yasuhara soon picked up on them. We lived quietly and without fuss. Until the fire.
The fire did not occur on our property. No. It occurred in the first week of the January exams in one of the university halls. Though it was normal for fire alarms to happen every other day in halls, this had not been burnt toast or a drill.
The entire block had burnt down, leaving only the shell of the building. No one had died. But over a hundred students had been displaced. The international students had been given priority in the spare spaces in the other halls, but that still left a considerable number of students with nowhere to live.
Our spare room had been advertised for a while.
Double room - sharing with 3 men, ten minute walk from campus, close to supermarket, quieter personalities preferred.
My mother was in charge of the property in strict terms. When she received a phone call from two desperate girls who asked to share the room, she went out and bought a set of bunk beds, new double duvets, matching covers, sets of towels, new curtains and desks.
She even repainted the walls purple.
And that is how we ended up with two girls living in our house.
Author's note: So Valentine's Day is just around the corner and so I am writing a delicious piece of fluff! First chapter out Thursday, one a day updates from then!