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‘She’s your girlfriend.’ Dominic frowns. ‘How is that weird?’

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

‘She’s not his girlfriend,’ Mac confirms – the party hat is atop his head now, set at a jaunty angle like a beret.

‘Oh,’ Dominic says. ‘I just assumed because you’re so obviously obsessed with her.’

‘Yeah, but he’s too emotionally stunted to do anything about it.’

‘Is that a British thing or a him thing?’

‘Bit of both?’

‘Right. That makes sense.’

I glower at them both. Like Mac, Dominic is charismatic, good looking and currently getting on my nerves.

‘Still, I second Mac,’ Dominic adds, absently running a hand over his shaved head. ‘Go and look for her. Maybe she’s waiting for you in the bedroom.’

I get to my feet, abruptly done with this conversation. The apartment is almost empty – most people started trickling away after midnight, heading home or drifting deeper into the night. I head down the hall towards the bathroom, leaning against the door and knocking lightly. No response.

‘Audrey?’ I call. ‘Are you in there?’

Nothing. I knock a little harder, try the handle. The door parts, unlocked.

‘Anyone?’ I call again. Nothing.

‘I’m coming in,’ I say finally, pushing it open. And there, piled in a crumpled heap against the wall –

‘Shit,’ I hiss, immediately sinking to my knees in front of her. ‘Audrey. Wake up.’

I brush her pale hair away from her face, taking a limp hand and squeezing it. She doesn’t so much as stir.

‘Audrey,’ I say loudly, trying hard not to freak out. She’s definitely breathing, but I’d really love for her to be fully conscious right now so I start frantically patting her cheeks, light little taps, and her eyes flutter open. Her gaze is unfocused as she looks around the room, head lolling.

‘Thank fuck,’ I mutter, and she fixes her bleary eyes on me.

‘I don’t feel well,’ she says weakly, and that’s all the warning I need to reach for the plastic bin beside the sink. I hand it to her, and she hugs it to her chest before vomiting – I quickly gather her hair in my fist, instinctively rubbing slow, small circles against her upper back with my free hand. It’s what my mum used to do for me whenever I got sick as a kid.

Once she’s finished, I get to my feet to fetch her some water from the sink. She takes a sip and shuts her eyes, a cloudy tear slipping down her cheek as I crouch beside her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says hoarsely, brow puckered.

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘I’ve ruined your birthday.’

‘No,’ I reply, reassured by how lucid she seems. ‘My sisters beat you to that. Besides, it’s not my birthday any more.’

‘I just wanted to sit down for a second.’ She sniffs. ‘I’m so stupid.’

‘You’re not stupid. Don’t say that.’

‘I’ll be fine in a second. I just need a second.’

‘Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here.’

‘No, go back to the party. I’m okay. I’ll get a cab—’