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It’s some trance shit, so I sneak up to the iPhone on the mantle and add some songs to the queue. Which is dangerous, because even though some of the songs are depressing, I never get bored of them. I don’t care if we’re at a party.
I add a Christmas song, and I snicker—
‘Why are you laughing to yourself in a dark corner?’
Chase leans against the wall beside me. His hair looks sleep-mussed, and he’s wearing a grey hoodie that is a bit too baggy on him, but he looks… warm, and snug, and cute.
My stomach is suddenly full of nerves and excitement. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’
‘Changed my mind,’ he says absentmindedly as he steps back and takes me in.I feel everywhere his gaze lingers. When his eyes meet mine, his smile fades and there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out.
My heart does a little dance. ‘Aren’t you drinking?’
‘I’m not big on drinking.’ His voice is rough.
‘Why come to a party if you’re not drinking? That’s like going up to a taxi and saying you’re not getting in.’
He laughs. ‘How drunk are you?’
‘I don’t know.’ I squint at the mounted TV. ‘Is that Adam Sandler or Ben Stiller?’
‘Are you being serious?’
‘I always get mixed up. Isn’t Ben Stiller the one in that museum movie? Or is that Adam?’
Chase shakes his head, but at that moment, Archer walks in.
He doesn’t see me, and I give myself a moment to observe him. He swaggers with confidence, like he always does, but there’s a certain lightness to the bounce in his steps, a sort of ease he only shows around his guy friends. His grin seems genuine, and he looks lovely when he smiles. He’s never given me that part of himself. Even his laugh sounds real.
A pang goes through me.
He wears a black tee and black jeans, and a red checkered shirt is tied around his waist.
He’s different with his friends. I wish he was this easy with me, instead of being taut and sexual. As much as I want to sleep with him, I also want a friend in him. I want us to banter and talk about nothing and everything.
As I watch, he throws a bag of white powder at a guy in an armchair; the guy dips in a key and sniffs it. He nods and gives Archer a thumbs up.
I’m not even sure what I’m seeing, but I know exactly what I’m seeing.
Archer empties crisps from a plate and shakes some powder of his own onto it. He uses his card to crush it, and then he rolls up a note and uses it to sniff a line.
My world cleaves open and drops before me.
It’s evident he hasn’t seen me. He probably doesn’t recognise me with the hair and the dress, and I’m glad, because I had to see this. I have to see the parts of his life he wants to hide from me.
Cassie holds out her hand for the plate, and I watch in horror as she takes the note from Archer and sniffs a line, too.
Cassie, who I was laughing and joking with just half an hour ago.
I can’t comprehend it. How can someone be two completely different people? How can she talk to me about boys and sex, and then sniff drugs? Why does she need it when she seemed perfectly fine upstairs?
I want to storm over there and slap Archer for handing her the plate, and I want to slap Cassie for asking for the plate, but I steel myself. Cassie’s made this decision, and me going mental about it won’t change the fact that it’s already happened.
I wonder if I hallucinated the entire thing when I realise belatedly that someone has joined me and Chase. Someone I’ve seen sitting with Chase at lunch. Someone who was at the meadow earlier.
‘…sound, Dave,’ Chase is saying. ‘I’ll meet you outside in a minute.’
Against my own volition, my hand lashes out to grasp Dave’s arm. ‘You’re not called Dave.’
