Friday Night Out
Last night.
By
the time there was a knock on my door, I was ready and completely geared up. I
enhanced my normal minimal makeup routine with smoky eyes and lashings of
eyeliner. The crazy fuzz cut was managing to look quite funky. I could not
guarantee it would hold.
I
am rewarded for my efforts by Meredith dropping her drink all over the floor
and Beth announcing very loudly that she may fancy me after all. I cringe at
her loud voice, shushing her with my hand, which they both think is hilarious.
“Don’t
worry, Lil, he has already walked over with Jayne. You would have heard them
leave had you not been so busy singing.”
“Bite
me.”
“You
look lovely, Lilah,” Meredith says, seeming very sincere, and I give her a big
hug.
I
should own up to the fact that I have had a few sneaky drinkies in my room
whilst getting ready.
We
head out of the door and run across to Digby. Well, I totter, but at a
reasonable pace despite the stilettos.
As
we push through the doors, I have the immense satisfaction of seeing Ben, who
is sitting in the corner, choke on his beer. I give a little half-interested
wave of my hand, acknowledging that I have seen him, and saunter over to the
bar.
Trev
gives a low whistle when he sees me, and proceeds to give me a drink on the
house.
Blimey!
Who would have thought that getting dressed up would have had this much effect?
I should have done it ages ago. There is a DJ playing, but as yet there is no
one on the dance floor, so we stand at the bar and make girly chitchat.
Jayne
comes over from her table and high fives me. “Well done. Lilah! The whole
football team wants to give you a shot.”
I
blush furiously and swat her away. Shame for them, there is only one member of
the team from which I would be open to offers.
After
a while, Tristan arrives. He actually spends so much time on campus I don’t
know why he does not enrol and just study here as well. He gives me a wink as
he leans in to say hi.
“Going
all out, Lil?”
“Better
believe it,” I respond with a wink of my own.
I
feel completely amazing. For the first time in my entire life, my confidence is
at an all-time high. I grab a drink and start mingling around, greeting people
I recognise. It takes them all a moment to register who I am, and then I get a
lot of hugs. It's great, but then again it's a bit worrying. Do I walk around
looking like scruffy moose the rest of the time? The only person who doesn’t
come and speak to me is Ben. I maturely decide to ignore this. Out of the
corner of my eye, I can see the blues flash as he watches me talk to a couple
of the guys from History class. Ha! Stick that, sucker.
Five
vodkas later and the Lilah dancing machine is out in full force. There are not
that many people on the dance floor but I don’t care. I dance away quite
merrily until I realise that the room is spinning rather a lot. I try to slow
my pace but the room is still spinning which makes me realise that it must be
my head and not the crazy dance I am performing.
“I
am going out for a smoke,” I tell Meredith, who is doing something I would
rather not witness with Tristan on the dance floor.
Outside,
I lean against my tree (yes, it is mine) and merrily smoke away. As I smoke I
start to sober up a little bit. What on
earth am I doing? My whole reasoning for the day begins to make no sense to
me at all.
I
don’t want to get back together with Ben because I want him to go to the States
and have his great career.
It
was me who suggested being friends.
It
is me who has enjoyed the last week of being friends and the casual flirting
that has been simmering under the surface.
It
is me who knows that eventually I am just going to have to let go of him being
a part of my life.
So
why the fuck am I dressed up to the nines attempting to get his attention?
By
the time I am on my second cigarette, leaning against the tree with my eyes
shut, I am feeling like a complete idiot and just want to go back home and get
changed into my comfy jeans and a hoodie.
I
feel a hand slide down my arm. I don’t have to open my eyes to know who it is.
I would know that touch anywhere.
“What
are you doing out here, Lilah? It is freezing.”
I
don’t bother opening my eyes, but wave my cigarette in the general direction of
his voice, hoping I don’t set his hair alight.
“Look
at me,” he says, his voice soft and very close to my ear.
I
open my eyes and meet his. “Hey,” I say.
“Hey,”
he whispers back. “You look amazing. I mean, you always do, but there is
something different about you tonight.”
He
stops to think of the words.
Yep. I am a deranged lunatic attempting to
make you fancy me even though I know I should not want you to.
“You
look confident,” he finally says through lips that are distractingly close to
my neck.
I want him so badly that my entire body could
set alight, burning like dry tinder in a fire of need for this man with his
dark hair, flashing eyes, and his long fingers made to entwine with mine. Even
though we are not touching, I can feel every contour of his body against mine. The
space between us zings with electricity.
I
think about his words for a few seconds. He’s right. I am confident. I am
buzzing with it.
“I
wish I could be this confident every day,” I admit. “Then, I think, I could be
with you.”
The
words are out before I can stop them. I hear him take a sharp intake of breath
as he absorbs what I am saying. I need to correct this, fast.
“It’s
not real though, Ben. It’s just an illusion, someone that I could be if I was
brave enough.”
My
words are a whisper, my lips getting closer and closer to his jaw.
“Be
brave with me, Lilah.”
As
he says my name in the way only he does—half whisper, half wish—I can’t stop
the single tear that betrays me by falling down my cheek. He stops its tracks
with his lips, and my willpower crumbles. I give a shudder as I lean against
him, and his arms slide around me pulling me in tight.
“Ben,
you know this is not the real me. I’m obsessive and negative and worry about
everything,” I explain as I try to ignore his lips that are still against my
cheek. “You deserve so much more than that.”
He
leans down so he can look right at me, the pressure of his body pushes me back
against the tree, long, hard lines moulding against mine.
“I
only see the best in you,” he says, “and you need to see that, too.”
I
just stare at him. His face is so close I can see his freckles illuminated in
the moonlight.
We
shouldn’t do it again. I know that. What is it, two or three times we have
attempted a relationship now? Every time, for one reason or another, we end up
pushing each other away saying words that hurt. I know this, but still I say,
“I can’t stay away from you.”
He
gives a low groan as he crushes us together, his lips on mine. The moment he
touches me, and I feel the familiar sensation of his mouth against mine, I know
it is right. I can’t keep fighting this chemistry between us.
Angie Stanton never planned on writing books, she wanted to be a Rockette. However, growing up in a rural setting with her brothers' 4-H pigs as pets, dance didn't work out. Instead she became an avid daydreamer. After years of perfecting stories in her head she began to write them down and the rest is history.
