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“Trollop,” I tease, sticking my tongue out at her.
“The bestest, most trollopiest trollop in town, bitch.”
She links her arm through mine and the smell of booze hits me hard in the face.
“Jeez, have you been preloading?”
“Told you to get ready with us, but nooooooo, you wanted to be Miss Independent.”
Internally, I cringe. I’m just not used to having friends. Well, friends outside of The Holy Trinity. By the time they left I’d alienated myself from pretty much everyone at school, and I was so heartbroken – and later traumatised – that I wasn’t interested in getting close to anyone. And then I disappeared altogether. I wonder if anyone cared, or even noticed. Even now I feel like this last week has been a dream. I can’t believe these girls want to be my friend. I thought maybe they had seen me with the Trinity and wanted an in, but honestly, they’ve barely even mentioned the guys, and they haven’t grilled me on them at all. It’s been nice.
I just hope that Axel doesn’t scare them away. It would be nice to have friends again. This past week has really highlighted how lonely I’ve been feeling, despite coming to Trinity to study for my dream degree. I guess a girl can’t live in isolation forever. Well, not staying sane anyway.
I let them drag me off campus to the nearest bus stop which will take us into town. A short, raucous ride later we arrive in Black Hallows town centre. The ladies guide me through the streets, all while telling me I need to get out more, and we arrive at our first bar, P’s. From the outside, it’s a new brick built place that’s designed to look like a converted stable.
Stepping inside is like going back in time to a Tudor barn. The walls are painted a warm cream, the wooden beams are distressed dark wood and the lighting is made up of enormous wrought iron wheel chandeliers which house flickering bulbs made to look like candles. It should be tacky, but it’s not. Thick, sumptuous, oversized rugs define the different seating areas which are made up of a mismatch of cosy armchairs and chaises, an open fire roars down the far end of the long room and a huge bar runs down the length of the entire left hand side of the space. I really like the relaxed, laid-back vibes this place has, and as the girls walk me through the busy tables to a spot near the fire, I pass several console tables laden with huge vases overflowing with my favourite flowers.
I stop to smell them, appreciating their perfume and the memories the scent evokes for me before the girls call me over and shove a cocktail menu into my hand. I scan the matte black menu with fancy gold calligraphy searching for something to drink that I’ve heard of. None of the cocktails are ones I’m familiar with. I mean, what the fuck is yuzu?
“Have you guys been here before?” I ask. “Can you recommend anything?”
“Oh yeah, we come here all the time before we’re ready to party. It’s not the cheapest place in town, but it does the best drinks,” Steph replies.
“I like the Jasmine and Elderflower Mojito,” Jess tells me.
“But you can’t beat the house signature cocktail,” Lucy adds. “If you’re not sure what to go for, get one of those.”
“Okay, order me that then.”
“Don’t you want to know what’s in it?” Jess wrinkles her nose in concern.
“Nope. I’m being wild tonight,” I say with a laugh.
“Okay, I’ll go to the bar and order. Save my seat.” Lou sashays off to the bar. I suspect her helpfulness in ordering our drinks has nothing to do with being a good friend, and everything to do with the sexy bartender who’s flair cocktailing to a considerable audience.
Lou is back in no time at all, a triumphant grin on her face as she sinks back into her seat.
“That was quick,” Steph says with a wink. “A record maybe.”
“For getting drinks?” I frown in confusion and the girls laugh.
“No. For getting a guy’s number,” Lou replies with a smirk. “That bartender is too hot for his own good, he’s going to meet us later.”
The girls all fall into excited chatter about their plans for our night as we wait for our drinks to arrive.
“Who ordered the woodsmoke?” The server asks, arriving with a tray laden with cocktails. She retrieves a tall, smoking glass and places it in front of Lou when she claims it as hers.
“The pool party?”
“Mine!” Jess calls, claiming a bright blue concoction in a sleek martini glass.
“I have one Black Death Falls.”
“Mine,” Lucy takes the black shimmering potion that’s served in a test tube.
“And finally I have two signature peonies.”
“What?” I blink, thinking I must have heard her wrong.
