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“What the fuck took you so long, babe?” My best-friend jumps me and with a smiling nod to Christopher and Arabella she takes me into what used to be the formal drawing room. The room is long, and the panelled walls have seen better days along with the chequered floor. “Freddie said you guys were right behind him.”
Cleared of some of the natural debris, the outside wall is lined with large wooden picnic benches, whilst the other has crates, a couple of rusted enamel bathtubs and a rowing boat filled with cans and bottles of drink.
“Christopher was driving at the legal speed limit.”
“Really?” She’s as surprised as I am, he always drives like he’s a fugitive being chased by the law. “What’s his problem, anyway? He looked like he was about to put you on the naughty step.”
Shrugging, I take the can of Pink Gin and Tonic she produces from one of her jacket pockets. “This stuff is horrible.”
“I know. I’m not a fan either, but it does the job, right?”
“I guess.” Taking a long, flat fizzed pull, I watch the other people milling around from our corner of the room. I have this weird shadowing sense of being watched. It’s twisting at my insides and making my skin break out in goose bumps.
Searching the room for Christopher, the feeling doesn’t die down, even when I don’t find him. Everyone is busy enjoying themselves, no one’s looking in our direction.
In the opposite corner of the room, Freddie’s got himself an audience. It’s weird, considering he’s more of a people watcher.
“Freddie looks…different.” Tilting her face, Fleur sways to the music, with her head bopping from side to side in time with her feet, she looks sexy as hell.
Her short bob is all messy waves, her grungy make up makes her dark eyes look so big that you can’t help but look right at them. Although she’s tiny and petite, she’s a freaking bombshell in her mini dress and bomber jacket with her trusty Doc Martens.
Fleur makes effortless look polished.
I wish I was more like her, but my height makes effortless moves like hers look so uncoordinated that it appears as though I’ve had too much to drink. “I know, right? I swear he’s taller.”
Laughing breathlessly, she says, “Yeah, taller, broader, wilder. He’s something, all right.”
“Would you like a tissue?” If she carries on ogling Freddie in the shameless way she’s doing now, she might drool all over herself.
“Oi!” Narrowing her eyes, she elbows me. It’s her thing. She does it so much that it’s almost like an extension of her eye expressions.
“He would eat you alive!”
“I fail to see the negative to that idea.”
“The negative is that he would chew you up and spit what’s left of you out before you’ve even warmed his bed. Have you ever seen Freddie take anything seriously?”
“You know, virgin girl, sex can just be for fun.”
“Did you want to announce that any louder?” Taking another sip of my drink, I cringe but the lingering aftertaste of the floral tonic makes me go for another, and then another. Until I’ve finished the can in my hand and am being handed another by Fleur.
“I don’t want to go overboard.” I have to shout over the music that has gotten so loud that it astonishes me the windows aren’t shattering and blowing from their frames.
“These are watered down compared to the real deal, and anyway, we’re letting our hair down. My diss is kicking my butt, and I’ve missed you. Plus, a little loosey goosey never hurt anyone.”
Fleur is like family. Her mother died a few years back from a freak drowning accident and my mother made sure that she will always have a maternal figure. I’m surprised she didn’t come down to Heavers with us in the first place. She’s the sister I never had.
Taking a sip of my fresh drink, my eyes pause on another set and when he smiles back at me, I feel a little self-conscious. Whenever a guy comes near me, I can’t help but freeze. It’s the craziest thing, but I just don’t know what to do with the attention.
So, naturally, when he starts strutting over, my tummy starts to do this uncomfortable twisty thing that makes me think back to the concert and how my butterfly filled tummy made me feel giddy and needy for more than just a look or accidental touch.
I’m not feeling that right now, and all I can do is compare
the stranger walking towards me to the stranger that walked away.
His blonde hair almost glitters as fragments of light catch on it, but it’s too neat and too light.
“Oh, hello, he’s keen.” Fleur says, laughing, and side-eyeing the guy walking towards us, and a part of me shrinks a little within myself. I don’t want him to come over to me.
