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A young waiter, smartly dressed with spiked brown hair passes with a silver tray carrying glasses of champagne, wide-eyed as he takes in the crowds around. Wondering why Dylan left to find a drink when so many are available, I take a glass, and gulp the wine. By the time another older waiter dressed in the same uniform passes, my glass is empty so I swap it for a new one.
Four glasses later and Dylan hasn’t returned. At least my discomfort lessens as my blood alcohol level increases. I giggle at myself because I'm against the wall at a celebrity party trying unsuccessfully to hide behind a fake plant.
If Dylan decided to abandon me, shouldn’t we have our fight first? Then I can go back to my room, pack, and wait for freedom?
But after minutes back in his presence, I don’t know if I want to. I pull myself from my safe spot and weave through the bodies, thankful that as the party grows, the interest in me becomes lost in the crowds. Heading in the direction Dylan went, I fight through a jungle of silicone, suffocated by a deadly poison cloud of perfumes.
After several fruitless minutes searching, the atmosphere heightens my light-headedness and I make my towards an open door leading outside. Stepping through the doorway into the summer night air cools my face, and I stand on the terrace, breathing deeply in an attempt to clear my head.
A set of stone steps run down towards the dark garden and two figures stand at the edge of the lit area. I freeze. Dylan and a girl. My stomach knots tight—her arm is on his, and he strokes her cheek. I can’t hear what they’re talking about but they appear intimate. She's small and slender with straight, dark hair, and Dylan is relaxed with this girl, more so than he was with me earlier. I chastise myself—I’be no right to jealousy. I told Dylan I didn’t want him.
Yet I’m unbelievably, fluorescent green, Godzilla-size monster jealous. I thought Dylan wanted me, and I’d begun to rationalise wanting him. Us. Is he about to humiliate me at the party by parading another girl in front of everyone?
I stare as the couple talk in low voices, and then the girl holds Dylan's hand in both of hers. When Dylan kisses the top of the girl’s head and turns, so does my stomach.
I stumble backwards, hoping he can’t see me illuminated by the light from the room behind. I back inside just in time.
"Hey, little lady, where you going?" A hand catches my elbow and the voice carves fear along my spine as I turn.
Jem.
"Nowhere. Drink. I’m looking for a drink."
