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Why?
EM
What do you want me to say? That I turned him down? Because that’s exactly what I did, and I don’t know why.
I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding, and I’m glad I deleted the end of that text—my rational brain grabbing control for a few short seconds. If drunk Emmaleigh had won the text would have looked a little different.
EM
What do you want me to say? That I turned him down? Because that’s exactly what I did, and I don’t know why. Well… I think I do, but I’m not supposed to feel this way. I turned down a nice, hot guy who actually wanted to date me, all because I’m falling in love with you. I’m holding out hope that one day you will see sense and realise you love me too. That one day we can have a real relationship together, because it’s what we both deserve.
Thank fuck I didn’t send that version. This conversation is already going in a dangerous direction, without me deliberately blowing up everything we have right now.
Wait a minute… Did I just say I’m falling in love with him?
I mean, I’ve been thinking that I might be starting to feel that way, but I thought I was doing a pretty damn good job of telling myself that’s not how I feel. I guess my body knows exactly what my heart wants, even if my head tries to pretend differently.
LEE
I’m glad you turned him down.
EM
Why?
My heart starts to race, and I sit there waiting on bated breath. Is this the moment he tells me how he really feels? Drunk me definitely feels like this is the way it’s going. Sadly, realistic me isn’t so sure.
LEE
I don’t know.
Fuck. Normally I love thoseI told you somoments, but this is not one of those times.
I feel myself deflate, feeling more let down and sad than I ever have before. Maybe my friends are right, and I’m holding out for something that’s never going to happen. I’m turning down real life experiences for a fantasy.
I quickly push the phone back into my bag, as I think there’s no way to revive that conversation. I hate the way my eyes are glazing over with unshed tears. I can feel my heart starting to ice over and crack just a little.
Luckily my friends don’t notice the change in my behaviour, and I don’t even think about that. I know it probably means they aren’t real friends, but I already knew that. They’re work colleagues, and if I’m being honest, I already know I’m using them for this night out. I only have one true best friend, and she’s been with me since we met on the first day of school when we were just four years old. But sadly she lives three hours away from me, and that’s a bloody long way to go for a night out.
I told her about Lee when we went on our first date, and I told her how well it went. She knows I’ve continued to see him, but that’s as much as I’ve confessed. She’s the sort of person that won’t dig for gossip. She knows I’ll tell her what’s happening in my life when the time comes. I think that’s why our relationship has stood the test of time. She doesn’t ask questions unless she sees a need to.
I sit quietly, sipping my drink whilst we all listen to Gem talk about the holiday she’s trying to talk Henry into. He says he can’t get the time off from work, as he’s trying to get a promotion, but doing so means working overtime on a big project. Gem hates the fact he’s working with a girl called Steph. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that Gem is jealous.
“Right, now that I’m sufficiently drunk… I want to go dancing,” shouts Kym, and Bessy groans beside me. I can’t help but chuckle. This argument happens every time we have a night out. As soon as Kym has drunk enough, all she wants to do is dance, and she’s usually drunk enough not to give a shit if she makes a fool of herself or not. Whereas Bessy is a different kind of drunk, and while she will quite happily stick her tongue down the throat of every guy she considers to be above a four, she worries she looks silly dancing.
We always end up going to the same club, Flares, and we get a table right next to the dancefloor. This means I can keep an eye on Gem and Kym as they dance, and I can join them when it’s a song I like, but in the meantime, I can make sure Bessy doesn’t go off with the wrong guy. Like I said, her standards drop significantly when she drinks, and so I like to make sure she doesn’t do anything she regrets.
Though tonight, I’m not sure I can help anyone, maybe not even myself. When we stand up to head out of the pub, I can feel myself swaying. The ground beneath me feels like it’s made of the type of padding you find in a kids soft play area, and it’s almost impossible to find my footing in these damn heels.
I consider taking them off, but then I remember how much my shoes stuck to the floor when I walked into the pub, and I don’t like the idea of my bare feet touching that type of flooring. No amount of showering will ever make me feel clean.
Kym loops arms with mine, and despite her being slightly drunker than me, we both lean on each other for support, and it seems to balance us out enough that we’re able to safely walk down the road to Flares.
Gem pulls us along, straight to the same table we always head towards. At first I think we will have to choose somewhere else, as there are two guys already sitting in the booth. But my friends are creatures of habit, and they know no shame—particularly when they’ve had a few drinks.
“Hey, you don’t mind if we sit here, do you?” Gem asks the two startled looking guys. She doesn’t even wait for their answer before she’s sliding into the booth opposite them, pulling Bessy in beside her.
The two guys, who look like they’re barely old enough to be in the club, sit there, just staring between Gem and Bessy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were under eighteen and had used fake IDs to get in here.
