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* * *
Several hours later, I was sticking lights up around the tower’s living room, Daisy holding the chair I was standing on. Raphael had left shortly after she’d got here and once the little pastries he’d made us came out of the oven. He’d made them as an apology for skipping out on my birthday. For the next week, he was booked in for night flights as part of his training.
He’d wanted to cancel, but the day had passed without event, and Daisy had offered to stay the night so I wouldn’t be alone. As it was, the party had become a women-only deal. Originally, we were going to take over a local pub, but the tower meant cutting back numbers, so for now, I’d see in my twenties with my local girlies.
I was lucky to have a tight group of good friends, most of them married and with kids, and a mixture of Scottish, English, and American. An excellent group to sound off against any life problems I had.
Like random car attackers, who I definitely didn’t want to talk about.
Like really wanting to kiss someone and laying it on the wrong guy.
“Before anyone shows, I have something to tell you.” With a hand on Daisy’s shoulder, I climbed down from the chair and switched the strip lights on. They pulsed in time to the music thumping in the background, filling the round tower room with an instant party atmosphere.
“Do I need a cocktail in hand?”
“Probably. I definitely do.”
I followed her into the kitchen and sucked up my courage.
“Last night, I kissed Jackson.”
The vodka Daisy had just started pouring slopped over the side of the cocktail shaker. She set down the bottle and stared at me. “Shut the front door.”
I palmed my cheek, heating up. “I’m so embarrassed. I’d been thinking about him, stupid crush and all, and he came running down the street calling my name.”
My best friend widened her eyes. “You went into horny beast mode and leapt at him? Badass.”
“Worse. Horribly mistaken.”
She winced. “He dodged?”
“No, not exactly.” I cringed. “He kissed me back. But then he pulled away and said something like, ‘Oh no, that was bad.’ I’m mortified.”
Sympathy spread over her face. “It was brave of you, particularly for a first kiss. Don’t let this put you off.”
I hadn’t liked dwelling on the fact that Jackson’s mouth on mine really had been the first time. For all my crushes, I’d never once pursued anyone before.
“If it’s something to do with Larson,” she went on.
I didn’t want to go there. We’d talked it through to death. In middle school, Landon Larson had followed me around like a rabid dog, undeterred by teenage-me rejecting him, then trapped me in a corridor and put his hand up my shirt. He was the only male to have ever touched my body in that way.
If it was him who’d smashed my car, I was going to kill the fucking creep.
My phone alerted me to a message—people downstairs, waiting to come up.
I gestured to the array of glasses and cocktail umbrellas on the kitchen counter. Colourful mixers. A half-chopped lemon where we’d run out of prep time.
“I’m going to let everyone in. You rack ’em up. Then we’re going to shit-talk men but naming no names.”
Daisy mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.
I trusted her with all my secrets.
I needed to trust myself to find a way through this mess.
* * *
Two hours and several drinks later, I was on my back on the sofa, sobbing with laughter, tears streaming down my face.
