Page 26 of Almost Ours

“He'll turn up," Ewan says, following my line of sight. "You can't lose Josh for long. He's about six-foot-three."

I cross my arms to my chest. "I wasn't looking for him." Liar, liar, liar.

"No?"

"No."

"Mhmm." He gives me a look that says he doesn't believe me.

Brooke nudges him in the ribs. "Leave her alone."

He flutters his lashes innocently. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re winding her up.”

“Alright, alright.” He titters, palms up. “I’ll leave it.”

I roll my eyes and decide there's no point trying to defend myself and, if Oscar is anything to go by, boys seem to enjoy winding people up far more than is strictly necessary.

The four of us stay by the bar, watching the dancefloor and moving along to the music. Out of nowhere Brooke turns to Ewan and kisses him. One of his hands goes around her back, hers curls into his hair, and then they’re just snogging beside us with literally no concern for the fact Abi and I are right there.

Abi catches my eye and pulls a face before talking at me at breakneck speed, only to grab my arm mid-sentence and gasp, “Oh my God.” I follow her stare to a pale, dark-haired boy standing across the room. “Be right back.”

She disappears into the crowd before I can ask where she’s going, then glances over her shoulder and mouths, Voldemort, throwing me an enthusiastic thumbs up.

I laugh, noticing he really does look like the kid who played teenage Voldemort. When I look over again a minute later, she’s got one hand buried in his hair and her tongue in his mouth while he grabs at her.

Bloody hell. That’s fast work.

I take another sip of my drink and turn back towards the dancefloor, but without Abi talking in my ear, I start noticing everything else. People are shouting over each other three-deep at the bar, someone keeps knocking into my shoulder, the lights are flashing straight across my eyes and there doesn’t seem to be a single patch of floor without somebody standing on it.

Jesus, is it hot in here?

I fan myself and look around at everyone. It suddenly dawns on me that this is what eighteen-year-olds are supposed to be doing.

The last few years haven't exactly been spent in places like this. They've been spent recovering. Going to therapy. Trying to get better. While everybody else was meeting new people and going out every weekend, I was just trying to make it through the day.

I learnt pretty quickly that time keeps moving whether you're ready for it or not. People keep growing up without you, and friendships quietly become memories instead of part of your everyday.

"I'm just going to splash some water on my face," I tell Brooke, waiting until she drags her attention away from Ewan long enough to look at me.

Her brow puckers. "You alright?"

"Yeah." I nod reassuringly. "Just a bit warm. I'll only be a minute."

She looks like she wants to come with me before Ewan says something that steals her attention again, and I take the opportunity to slip away, weaving between groups of strangers. Everywhere I turn, somebody is kissing somebody, dancing with somebody, leaning into somebody’s ear. Brooke has Ewan. Abi has teenage Voldemort. Everyone seems very good at getting on with the life they’re meant to be having.

I used to think I knew exactly what mine would look like too. When I was little, I imagined my future so clearly that some of it almost feels like memory now. A house. A job I loved. Some boy taking my hand and saying, I know who you are, Rubes. You don't have to explain.

A happy ever after.

I believed in them for years.

Until believing in happy ever afters started to feel like believing in mermaids or dragons or parents who don't lie. Because, like all silly little girls who dream of such things, I eventually found out real life isn't a fairytale.

It's not even close. Happy Ever Afters don't miraculously appear. They don't descend from the sky with perfect timing and a swell of orchestral music. You have to crawl toward them. You have to fight for them. You have to survive long enough to even believe you deserve one.

By the time I reach the corridor leading towards the toilets, the music has dulled enough that I can finally hear myself think again. I take a deep breath, deciding that a splash of cold water is probably all I need, when I notice a girl a little further down the corridor struggling to stay on her feet.