Jack Broadwick Street
JACK
Broadwick Street
I’ve barely stepped through the door when my dad’s already gone, leaving me and my battered brown suitcase stranded in the middle of the sleek, tastefully neutral living area of the flat Ian shares with his housemates.
Something tells me Drew McAvoy didn’t exactly feel at home among these finely plastered walls in an elegant shade of beige, and to be fair, I’m not entirely sure I do either.
The loft is modern and bright, tucked inside a newly renovated brick building in the heart of Soho. It has three bedrooms, each with its own ensuite, a spacious open-plan living room and kitchen, plus a guest bathroom for good measure.
Warm autumn light spills through the tall windows, falling, almost theatrically, on the spotless surfaces, the pale wood floors, and the massive L-shaped sofa that I’m guessing is going to be my new bed. For a while, at least.
I didn’t expect my brother to go out of his way to make me feel welcome, but I also wasn’t prepared for him to dump the entire job on his poor housemate, the one I’ve barely glimpsed on the rare occasions I’ve been here with our parents.
Ian is nowhere to be seen for now, and after greeting me with visible surprise, Ollie now seems to be wondering what on earth he’s supposed to do with me.
Or maybe I’m just being paranoid. Because after eyeing me in silence for a few seconds, those big sky-blue eyes scanning every inch, he suddenly says the last thing I expected to hear right now.
“Don’t tell me you never wear mascara, because with lashes like that, it’d be a crime!”
“Sorry?” I ask, not quite sure I’ve heard him right.
“Your lashes,” he goes on, completely undeterred, still examining me with that professional gaze. “I don’t even think you’d need much. With what you’ve got going on, just a touch would be enough to make jaws drop.”
I let out a faint, nervous chuckle. I hadn’t been sure what kind of welcome to expect from my brother’s flatmates, but I definitely didn’t see myself having a conversation about which cosmetics would best complement my eyelashes.
With no clue what to say, all I manage is a weak, “You… you think so?”
“Absolutely!” Ollie brightens immediately. “I’m an expert! Haven’t you seen my makeup tutorials? I get loads of views on TikTok and YouTube,” he announces in a chirpy voice, as if it’s such common knowledge that my answer is hardly required.
“Erm… right?” I attempt, not entirely sure whether to admit the truth, that I not only know nothing about tutorials or TikTok, but I’ve also never worn mascara in my life.
I mean, sure, I’ve been lightly made up before a few performances, but it was always very minimal. Contemporary dance is miles away from classical ballet in that sense, and in many others. Either way, I’ve never been great with my hands, so I’ve never really dared to try anything on my own.
Thankfully, Ollie saves me from the awkwardness. His heart-shaped lips curl into an enthusiastic smile, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he suddenly chirps, “Of course! No need to guess, let’s just try it!”
“Um…” I want to say that I’ve just arrived after a long journey, that maybe I should unpack my bag and figure out where to put my things before anyone comes near my face with a mascara wand.
But the truth is, I don’t even know where I’m meant to put my clothes, and in any case, I’m very aware I’m here as a guest.
Staying in this flat clearly required not only Ian’s permission, but also his flatmates’, and it’s not like I’m in a position to start making demands.
So good manners win out, and I find myself nodding as politely as I can manage.
I’m not sure my smile looks entirely convincing, but Ollie, completely absorbed in his mission, doesn’t seem to notice. He simply throws me a brisk, “Stay here, don’t move!” before disappearing down the hallway where the three bedrooms are lined up in a row.
Despite his very clear instructions, I let myself drop onto the black leather sofa. It looks a bit stiff at first glance, but once I sit down, I’m surprised by how comfortable it actually is.
My eyelids already feel heavy, and I’m just about to drift off when my host reappears, dragging along a strange little metal trolley.
“This is my most basic kit,” he announces, parking the contraption in front of the sofa.
Then he adds, a little sheepishly, “My room’s a total disaster right now, there are, erm…
clothes everywhere! So, it’s better if we do it here.
It’s just a quick test, anyway. When we do things properly, you’ll come to my room, and we’ll use the full arsenal! ”
I really hope there won’t be a next time, not because I don’t like Ollie, quite the opposite, actually. He’s already growing on me more than I expected. It’s just… the idea of someone putting their hands on my face isn’t exactly thrilling.
Still, I go along with it for the sake of politeness, offering a faint smile.
I can’t help but wonder what on earth the full arsenal might look like, if this is just the basic kit, and honestly, I’d probably rather not know. Better to stay blissfully unaware than risk becoming my new flatmate’s regular makeup guinea pig.
Ollie’s a rising theatre actor, and if I’m remembering correctly, he’s already been in a few big West End productions.
As far as I know, he hasn’t landed any lead roles yet, but judging by the determination he’s showing right now, even just approaching this mini makeup session, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up going far.
I have to admit, though, he’s almost unreasonably good-looking. With those finely sculpted features, wide blue eyes, and that soft ash-blond hair falling in gentle waves around his face, he could easily pass for a cherub.
If his hair were a different colour, he’d basically be the ideal guy for my brother, at least physically speaking.
But Ian’s been loyal for years to the whole “Sebastian lookalike” type, and I’m starting to wonder if anyone will ever manage to turn his head the way his old friend from Stratford did.
Not that I blame him, as far as I recall, Sebastian Arnette is basically a walking daydream. And if I’m not mistaken, I’ll be seeing him again soon. It’s been forever.
Speaking of my brother, I’m beginning to seriously wonder where the hell he’s gone, when Ollie’s melodic voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Relax, your features are stunning,” he murmurs, smoothing something strawberry-scented onto my cheeks.
I want to tell him I’m not nervous, but I am. Not about the makeup, though.
What’s got me on edge is the fact that I’m going to be living in the same flat as Ian for the next few months, and while I barely knew Oliver Stuart, who is currently turning me into a slightly shinier version of myself, I know absolutely nothing about Kit Anderson, other than the fact that he’s a well-known rugby player.
It’s not like I care that much about making a good impression.
Or at least, that’s what I keep trying to tell myself as Ollie runs a small brush beneath my eye with a delicacy I wouldn’t have expected from someone who generally moves like a firework about to go off.
“You’ve no idea how many dancers would give an ankle to have your skin,” he adds with a cheeky grin.
I raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.
“Pretty sure losing an ankle isn’t much of an advantage in the dance world, Ollie.”
“Details,” he chuckles. “You’ve got that rebellious elf air that’s definitely going to drive everyone at the academy wild!”
I huff, but the corner of my mouth twitches. Ollie is… a lot. Maybe too much, though it’s not like I really know him yet. Still, there’s something about him that puts me at ease, like I don’t have to keep everything bottled up all the time. That doesn’t happen often.
With Ian, for instance, it almost never does.
Talking to my brother feels like trying to communicate with a satellite: cold, distant, technically reachable, but exhausting to approach.
We haven’t been particularly close these last few years, and his offer to let me stay here was anything but spontaneous, but maybe…
“You with me?” Ollie asks, waving a hand in front of my face.
“Uh… yeah, sorry. I was thinking about Ian.”
“Ah, the brooding Mr. McAvoy. Always so sweet,” he remarks with a roguish grin, then adds, “You know, I once saw him cuddling a kitten. I still haven’t recovered.”
I burst out laughing. “Seriously?”
“I swear! But I’m pretty sure he only did it because Sebastian was around. When he’s there, Ian magically remembers he has a heart.”
Sebastian again. After all these years, it always comes back to him. One of Ian’s oldest friends, the one he’s had a crush on forever.
The one who’s now married to Remi, and basically the emotional centre of that strange Blackbird group Ian’s always struggled to explain.
And then there’s Jamie, Noah, Anne, Francis, and Maude.
All strong personalities. Successful too. Despite how young they are, they’ve already made a name for themselves in their fields, in a city as competitive as London.
I’ve never actually met any of them, but the way Ian talks about them, it’s like I already know who they are.
The real mystery is why he’s never introduced us. Almost like he was embarrassed of us.
Ollie watches me closely. “You’re sweating.”
“It’s warm,” I lie.
Luckily, he doesn’t push it. Instead, he hands me a small mirror. “There! Look at that masterpiece.”
I glance at my reflection. The makeup’s light, just a touch of mascara and eyeliner around the eyes, and the faintest blush on my cheeks.
I look like… me. Just a little more me.
“Do you like it?” Ollie asks.
I nod slowly. “Yeah. It makes me feel… less invisible.”
Ollie studies me more closely, and for a moment, the sparkle in his tone fades.
“You’re not invisible, Jack. You’re just harder to see for people who don’t bother looking.”
We stare at each other a second too long, caught off guard by this weirdly tender moment, when Ian’s voice suddenly calls out from the front door: “Jack!!! Your suitcase is here, so I know you’ve arrived!
Sorry I’m late, I went to grab dinner, and I figured you’d be in good company…
Ollie? You’re not using my little brother as a guinea pig, are you? ”
My new friend shrugs and gives me a sheepish grin before lying through his teeth: “No, Ian, don’t worry! Jack and I were just chatting!”
Then Ollie leans in and whispers, “When he finds out, just say you were totally on board, okay?”
He winks and takes my hand, tugging me towards the kitchen, where the unmistakable clatter of plates and cutlery is coming from.
Sounds like my brother’s actually setting the table.
“Hurry up, you two!” Ian calls again, this time with more urgency. “I got us a couple of massive pizzas, but if we don’t eat soon, Kit’s going to inhale the lot!”
I blink, thrown off for a second. I hadn’t expected my brother to bring home dinner, but maybe he’s more thoughtful with his flatmates than he ever was with us.
At least… I hope so.
Still holding my hand, Ollie throws me a knowing look.
“He’s not exaggerating about Kit’s appetite, sadly…”
I shake my head, unable to keep from smiling, and follow him into the kitchen.
Getting ready to eat my first dinner in this new house. Getting ready to start this new life.