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“Where are you going?”

“I need something strong if I’m going to go through with this.”

“Really?” Her face lights up – and, admittedly, mine lights up a little, too.

I nod.

“In that case…” She empties her glass, displaying it proudly to me. “I’ll have another one, too. I need to be alert so that I can help you out.”

“Alert?” I ask her, amused, before leaving the table and heading for the bar.

I bustle through a group of people waiting for their drinks and lean against a free bar stool, waiting to be served. I don’t even attempt sitting down: my dress is way too tight and short. I could never get down without flashing everyone in the pub.

“What can I get you?” the barman asks, drumming his fingers against the surface to hurry me along.

“Two more of those pink things…” I say, waving my hands around in a strange circle which means absolutely nothing. He looks at me, waiting.

“The one with the blackberries.” I try to explain myself a little better, but he doesn’t want to cooperate.

“I think you mean aGordon’s,” a voice says to my right.

I turn towards it.

“The pink one, obviously.” He flashes one of those smiles at me that says:I’m already undressing you, and you don’t even know it yet.

The barman grabs a bottle from behind him and shows it to my saviour.

“Exactly,” he says, satisfied. “And don’t forget the blackberries – right?” He winks at me, and I feel a blush creep from my toes to my scalp.

The barman turns away to make my drinks, and the man steps closer to me, his pantie-melting smile beginning to take hold on my body. It’s a feeling I know pretty well; something I was immune to throughout my teenage years, and through a large part of my adult life. But apparently, it works an absolute charm on the desperate, orgasm-less woman I’ve become.

Niall

Ididn’t mean to approach her, but finding myself standing next to her at the bar, and watching her struggle must’ve woken an instinct: something that had been hibernating inside me after everything that’s happened lately.

Tyler was right: time seems to have stopped still. I don’t know whether it tickled at that subtle strand of nostalgia, buried deep in everyone who leaves, or whether it has decided to punish the terrible decisions I’ve made: like the decision not to invite Jordan Lane to the school prom all those years ago. I was too stupid to admit that I liked a ‘nerd’, so I went with someone else. But that’s all in the past. It went out of fashion as quickly as I did.

From the way she’s looking at me, I can tell that she doesn’t recognise me. Or maybe, even worse, she doesn’t remember me at all. I can’t decide which is more damaging to my ego: either way, I don’t come across too well.

“Okay, maybe you don’t remember,” I begin, uncomfortably. “I guess it’s been a while.”

Am I actually sweating?

The barman places two drinks on the counter, catching her attention.

“Sorry, I just have to…”

“Oh, please, let me.”

“Thank you.” She smiles warmly and grabs the glasses. “Have a nice evening,” she says, before turning quickly and walking back into the room.

“Wow, mate,” the barman says, interrupting my thoughts. “You sure have a way with the ladies.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Weren’t you trying to hit on her?”

“Me?” I say, almost offended. “Don’t kid yourself.” I sink onto a stool and try to gather up the shattered remains of my pride. “Could you get me two pints of Guinness, while you’re at it?”