leaned closer to hear me over the music, which had just escalated raucously.
I flapped my hand, telling him to forget it. Then stared morosely into my drink.
“He hasn’t been at lectures, either,” Justin said close to my ear. I looked at him and he leaned back again, shrugging.
“Is he okay?”
“Huh?”
I leaned in closer. “I said, is he okay?”
“Probably just busy. Or in jail,” Justin shouted back to me. Then he laughed at my wide eyes. “Kidding. Henry got it all sorted. He’s fine.”
I rolled my eyes at him, then drained the last of my drink. If everything was fine, then why hadn’t I seen or heard a thing from him in five days? That’s what I thought, but I didn’t say it. Because even as I was thinking it, I was berating myself for being ridiculous — we’d been to bed, we weren’t in a relationship. Five days was nothing, considering he had no obligation to ever see me again.
Except I’d told him I liked him. That little fact was wound up tightly in my chest. Maybe that small confession shouldn’t have come weighted with any expectation in my mind, but it had. It did. I expected something more.
Maybe that was the very thing keeping him away. All he’d said was that he liked it when I said his name — in comparison, I must have sounded like I was declaring my undying love. No wonder he had split.
I shook myself and stuck out my tongue, like I’d just tasted something bad. My own ridiculous emotions, perhaps.
I scanned the room for Izzy and Steph, dancing in the crush, then I turned my face to Justin and smiled widely.
He frowned, suspicious, and I flicked my eyebrows in the direction of the object of his affection, then waggled them. I was truly happy for him, and I pushed away my own melodramatic misery. I saw his mouth twitch, even though he tried to keep a straight face, and I jumped to my feet, punching him in the shoulder.
“Come on. Dancing time,” I said. I grabbed his hand and pulled him off his stool too, leading him to the dance floor where I handed him over to Steph. Who was at the floppy drunk stage already. She threw her arms around Justin’s neck, hanging off him while she made an attempt at sexy dancing. Attempt being the operative word. But I had never seen Justin happier. The look in his eyes, when she had arrived at our place earlier in the night, had shocked me, but also given me warm fuzzy feelings. Justin had never looked at anyone like that before, that I had ever seen, or ever expected to see.
That she wasn’t a stripper and wasn’t even wearing a low cut mini dress and fake eyelashes would have been enough to tell me something was different about this girl. And that she was a lightweight, giggling, flushed and drunk before the rest of us had barely arrived at tipsy, was just another point in her favour. She’d admitted that she rarely drank, and that Justin was a bad influence on her, but she said it with so much adoration in her eyes that Izzy and I had made gagging faces behind her back.
I turned my back on them now, turning to dance with Izzy who was whipping her undone hair around dangerously. She was drunker than I thought — once we’d ventured into the hair whipping stage, the crying in the bathroom stage was never far behind. I could see the frowns of nearby dancers as she flung herself around with abandon, but I knew better than to get in her way. I just laughed, and shrugged apologetically at a few people. Then joined her, getting lost in the music and the strobing lights.
Izzy disappeared and came back with shots for each of us, but while she was distracted by the song that came on — “This is my favourite song, ever!” — I took hers off her, and downed the rest of what she hadn’t already spilled. She didn’t even notice, confirming my thought that she really didn’t need it.
Not like I did, either. I was definitely moving beyond tipsy now.
I caught sight of Justin and Steph being lovey in the corner, and I thought of
I flapped my hand, telling him to forget it. Then stared morosely into my drink.
“He hasn’t been at lectures, either,” Justin said close to my ear. I looked at him and he leaned back again, shrugging.
“Is he okay?”
“Huh?”
I leaned in closer. “I said, is he okay?”
“Probably just busy. Or in jail,” Justin shouted back to me. Then he laughed at my wide eyes. “Kidding. Henry got it all sorted. He’s fine.”
I rolled my eyes at him, then drained the last of my drink. If everything was fine, then why hadn’t I seen or heard a thing from him in five days? That’s what I thought, but I didn’t say it. Because even as I was thinking it, I was berating myself for being ridiculous — we’d been to bed, we weren’t in a relationship. Five days was nothing, considering he had no obligation to ever see me again.
Except I’d told him I liked him. That little fact was wound up tightly in my chest. Maybe that small confession shouldn’t have come weighted with any expectation in my mind, but it had. It did. I expected something more.
Maybe that was the very thing keeping him away. All he’d said was that he liked it when I said his name — in comparison, I must have sounded like I was declaring my undying love. No wonder he had split.
I shook myself and stuck out my tongue, like I’d just tasted something bad. My own ridiculous emotions, perhaps.
I scanned the room for Izzy and Steph, dancing in the crush, then I turned my face to Justin and smiled widely.
He frowned, suspicious, and I flicked my eyebrows in the direction of the object of his affection, then waggled them. I was truly happy for him, and I pushed away my own melodramatic misery. I saw his mouth twitch, even though he tried to keep a straight face, and I jumped to my feet, punching him in the shoulder.
“Come on. Dancing time,” I said. I grabbed his hand and pulled him off his stool too, leading him to the dance floor where I handed him over to Steph. Who was at the floppy drunk stage already. She threw her arms around Justin’s neck, hanging off him while she made an attempt at sexy dancing. Attempt being the operative word. But I had never seen Justin happier. The look in his eyes, when she had arrived at our place earlier in the night, had shocked me, but also given me warm fuzzy feelings. Justin had never looked at anyone like that before, that I had ever seen, or ever expected to see.
That she wasn’t a stripper and wasn’t even wearing a low cut mini dress and fake eyelashes would have been enough to tell me something was different about this girl. And that she was a lightweight, giggling, flushed and drunk before the rest of us had barely arrived at tipsy, was just another point in her favour. She’d admitted that she rarely drank, and that Justin was a bad influence on her, but she said it with so much adoration in her eyes that Izzy and I had made gagging faces behind her back.
I turned my back on them now, turning to dance with Izzy who was whipping her undone hair around dangerously. She was drunker than I thought — once we’d ventured into the hair whipping stage, the crying in the bathroom stage was never far behind. I could see the frowns of nearby dancers as she flung herself around with abandon, but I knew better than to get in her way. I just laughed, and shrugged apologetically at a few people. Then joined her, getting lost in the music and the strobing lights.
Izzy disappeared and came back with shots for each of us, but while she was distracted by the song that came on — “This is my favourite song, ever!” — I took hers off her, and downed the rest of what she hadn’t already spilled. She didn’t even notice, confirming my thought that she really didn’t need it.
Not like I did, either. I was definitely moving beyond tipsy now.
I caught sight of Justin and Steph being lovey in the corner, and I thought of
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