Page 52 of The Freshman

“I’m coming!” he yelled,getting to his feet.

He swung the door open and shrugged atthe man on the other side. He was dressed in green, with his greendelivery van behind him. Both the uniform and the van had the logoof an expensive supermarket, and the badge pinned to the man’sfleece had the name Trent printed in white letters.

“I’ve got a shoppingdelivery for you.”

He held up a bag and Alfie eyed itsuspiciously. “I haven’t ordered anything.”

Trent waved his hand dismissively.“Yeah, he said it was a surprise, all paid for. Just got tosign.”

Alfie folded his arms and frowned atthe bag of shopping. “I’m not sure—”

“Just take it.”

The van rumbled behind Trent, preppedto go as soon as possible.

Alfie sighed and flicked his chin out.“Fine.”

He took the bag and placed it on thefloor inside the house.

Trent pulled out his phone and tappedthe screen for Alfie to scribble his signature.

“Thanks, you look like youneed it,” Trent said, then turned and walked back to his grumblingvan.

Alfie closed the door, frowning, thenpeeked inside the bag. There were only two items—a bag of ice and abottle of amber liquid. Alfie pulled out the drink and plucked thepost-it note off the lid of the bottle. Not the flowing thought-outfont of a woman, but most likely Trent’s messyhandwriting

‘If we’re gonna bedrinking partners, get familiar with the good stuff.’

A single malt scotch whiskey, tenyears old. The writing on the label was posh and curling, and thebottle looked expensive. Alfie searched the bag for a receipt, butthere wasn’t one. Alfie knew it was from Nate, and he studied thetop to check its seal hadn’t been tampered with.

He could pour it away, or he could tryit. He had nothing else to do so moved into the kitchen to find aglass.

Alfie sniffed the whiskey beforeknocking it back like the men in the movies. It burned, then ittickled the back of his throat up to his nose, and finally hecoughed. He imagined Nate’s laughing face, and that spurred him totry again. He wanted to prove he could handle a man’s drink, andafter his third shot, there was no tickle and he didn’tsplutter.

Alfie settled back on the sofa andclicked on a western. It seemed the appropriate film when cradlinga glass of spicy alcohol. He mimicked the cowboy’s accent, drew hisfinger shaped gun to shoot the telly, and saluted the protagonistwhen he killed the bad guy.

His phone chirped, and he pressed downto answer without looking at the number.

“Yes?”

There was an extended pause, and thenNate’s toe-curling voice. “Freshman, take it you’ve got mygifts.”

“Gifts?” Alfie said,flicking the bottle. “There was only one.”

“What about the ice foryour nose?”

Alfie blinked, then struggled up onthe sofa. The bag was still by the front door. “Shit.”

He thought about going to get it, butdidn’t want to take the risk. There was a whole five meters betweenthe front door and the sofa, and he didn’t trust his legs to carryhim that far.

Nate chuckled. “I hope you like thedrink.”

Alfie hummed as he lay back down. Helicked the remains of his last glassful from his lips. “Yeah, it’sdefinitely growing on me.”

“Can’t be buying my datecola, got to share a bottle with me.”

Alfie hugged the bottle to his chest.“I don’t usually drink when I’m on dates.”

“Why not?”

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