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Now that I’ve heard the words “C’est La Vie” I know exactly who they’re talking about. It’s one of the songs on the playlist that’s always blaring whenever Mum’s cleaning the house. I never realised it was by the “best Irish girl group ever” though.
“Whatever. You’re singing “C’est La Vie”,” Robbie shouts over everyone talking about their favourite B*Witched song, making them quieten down. “In costume.”
What now?
“Meet us at the White Swan on the high street, tonight at seven. Drinks are on you, “ Alex says, and then everyone makes an exit. Well, nearly everyone.
“Want to come shopping with me for a B*Witched outfit? I’ll let you watch me try it on?” I ask Tom.
Winding him up is quickly becoming one of my favourite hobbies. He has this sexy vein that throbs at his temple whenever he’s annoyed at me. I want to lick it.
“Don’t get too blotto tonight. You’re not missing practice in the morning,” he grumbles, before turning around and following the others.
I’m not disappointed he doesn’t want to come shopping with me. I’ll get to hang out with him tonight.
I will make Tom Whitford like me.?
Tom Whitford really doesn’t like me.
The pissed off look he gives me as I enter the pub is so fucking hot, I can’t resist changing my course away from the bar and head straight towards the table he's sharing with Alex instead.
“Alright, mate?” I say, sliding up to him.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Tom all but grunts, giving me such a slow once over I feel nearly naked.
Well, I guess I kind of am nearly naked.
“I’m wearing my B*Witched outfit.” I smile at him and give him a twirl.
It’s August in London, in the middle of a heatwave, so there was no way I was wearing heavy jeans tonight; instead I’ve got on some dark wash jean shorts that I think do a decent job of attempting to cover my arse. I’m also wearing a white crop top that shows off my abs, and a light denim shirt that I’ve left unbuttoned.?
Double denim baby.
Yes, I may look ridiculous, but they’re making me sing B*Witched. I figured why not throw my gayness in their faces a little bit. It’s quite fun. I mean, granted, Mum putting the Irish flag on the back of the shirt with diamantes and a hot glue gun probably was a bit of overkill but hey, I’m rocking it.
“What do you think?” I look at him expectantly.
Tom grabs his beer and walks away without a second glance.
“Well that was successful then,” I say, turning to Alex.
“You’re determined to push his buttons,” he says, shaking his head with a small smile.
I wink at him. “I’d push all of his buttons if he’d let me.”
Alex sputters as he chokes on his beer, thumping a hand against his chest. “Might not want to tell him that,” he says wryly.
Pretty soon others start showing up and it’s not just Alex, me, and Tom--wherever he’s hiding. Everyone else comes in nice, normal, ‘night at the pub’ type clothes.Of course they do.?
And then Viz walks through the door and he makes my outfit look sane.
“Viz, why have you dressed up?” Alex asks as the Dutchman joins our table, which now also includes Davey and Sean.
His eyebrows knit together. “We had to, right?”
“No. Milly has to dress up, we don’t.” Davey laughs.?
“I dressed up at the last karaoke.”
