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“First of all, Jason’s not a stranger. And second, I don’t recall any groping.” When Drew only shrugged in response, I continued, “Is there something you want to talk about?”
“I’m fine.” Drew swallowed down a large gulp of his beer. “Fine.”
Even before I heard him arguing with Jason earlier I knew he wasn’t fine. He hadn’t been happy for a while, but that was no excuse for making me sound like a tramp for hugging someone I’d known forever. Lashing out was his least attractive quality, and thankfully, a side he didn’t show too often. It stung that he used his defences with me, especially over something so stupid. Why would he care who “groped” me anyway? He didn’t want to grope me.
Probably. But there was the time...
Stop. Now. We’re not going over the three or four hundred times you thought he might have given you a second look, or maybe held onto you a bit too long after a hug. We’re not, because you’re friends. Just friends.
“Ells? I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry. This thing with Jason. You were right. It’s a bad idea. I don’t want to fall out with you because of it, though.”
I sighed. “I wish you would talk to me. Or to anyone.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Not when you’ve spent your life building up a complex set of barriers to keep people out. He’d handed me the keys to open some of his doors, but I hadn’t gotten close to unlocking them all. Most people eventually reached a point when they had to talk. Not Drew. He let everything pile on top of him, crushing him. Every day I was amazed he hadn’t suffocated under the weight.
“I know, but I hate seeing you like this. All mopey.”
He cracked a smile then placed his bottle on the table and took a deep breath. “So take my mind off my... mopey-ness. If you’re not keen on dancing with strangers, how about dancing with your oldest friend?”
I grinned. “Old being the operative word.”
“Oh, ha ha.” Drew took my glass out of my hand and placed it beside his empty beer bottle. “Come on, let’s hit the dance floor and pretend we’re enjoying ourselves!”
After a while, Drew loosened up, and his sour mood vanished. The heat from the flashing lights and all the thrashing bodies squished together on the dance floor caused my need for a little solitude to rush to the surface, and after an hour crammed against (mostly) strangers, I gestured to Drew that I was going to get a drink
“Did you see him? Did you see my brother on the telly? Fucking… Oof!”
What. The. Hell?
Jason swayed precariously on the bar, right in front of the barman who’d served him his last drink. Mid-way through whatever he was babbling on about, he’d slipped, tried to catch himself by grabbing an innocent bystander, and pulled the guy down with him as he fell to the floor.
“Get him out of here,” the barman said. “Now.”
Post-gig celebrations always seemed like such a brilliant idea at the time.
While Jason struggled to get up most people around him began to shuffle away from the crazy drunk man. Some of the crowd obviously recognised him because they were taking photos of him, ready to post on Twitter so the world could witness the latest drama as it unfolded.
Drew took hold of Jason’s arm and pulled him up.
“What is wrong with you?” he snapped. “Act your age.”
Jason’s head wobbled in a comical way, like one of those nodding dogs people put in the back window of their cars. “I’m twenty-eight, not ninety-eight. Lighten the fuck up, will you?” He thrust his beer bottle at Drew’s chest, spilling some on his shirt. “Here, have a drink.”
Derek had said the boys weren’t to converse in public, but I assumed fighting wasn’t covered in that rule. I had only a split second to act before Drew lost it, and the incident became front page news. Just because Derek wanted “explosive behaviour” didn’t mean I had to let any more erupt. In fact, I was hell bent on extinguishing whatever I could and if Drew stayed where he was, the first real band skirmish would be on the Internet in seconds.
I grabbed his wrist. “Let me deal with him.”
“I need to get him out of here,” Drew snapped, shrugging me away. “Look at the state of him.”
Jason chuckled, swaying unsteadily. “I’m fine. Fine and dandy.”
“When you start talking like a bad country singer, you’re not fine. Or dandy.” I glanced around for Mack or Joey as the music seemed to grow louder and the lights appeared brighter. Excited clubbers could hardly believe their luck, and they were so close I heard the camera clicks from their mobile phones above the music. My palms were slick with sweat and my heart raced.
Thankfully, Mack spotted the commotion and weaved through the revellers towards us. “Everything okay?”
Drew opened his mouth to answer but I held my hand up, hoping the action would be enough to stop the outpour of rage threatening to spill from his lips. Anger radiated from him; toxic and a little intimidating but this was not the time for him to explode. Not in front of gossip-hungry witnesses.
