Loveless(64)

She insisted on doing my make-up too – she had always been a fan of makeovers, she explained – and I let her, seeing as she was way better at make-up than me. She blended golds and browns on my eyes, chose a muted pink lipstick, filled my eyebrows with a tiny brush, and drew neater winged eyeliner than I had ever been able to achieve alone.

‘There,’ she said, after what felt like hours but was probably more like twenty minutes. ‘All done.’

I checked myself out in Rooney’s pedestal mirror. I actually looked excellent. ‘Wow. That’s – wow.’

‘Go look in the big mirror! You need to see the full effect with your dress. You look like a princess.’

I did as she said. The dress was straight out of a fairy tale – floor-length, rose-coloured chiffon with a sequinned bodice. It wasn’t super comfortable – I was wearing a lot of tit tape – but with my wavy hair and shimmery make-up, I did look and feel like a princess.

Maybe I could even enjoy tonight. Wilder things had happened.

Rooney stood next to me in the mirror. ‘Hm. We kind of clash, though. Red and pink.’

‘I think it’s a good clash. I look like an angel and you look like a devil.’

‘Yes. I’m the anti-you.’

‘Or maybe I’m the anti-you.’

‘Is this a summary of our whole friendship?’

We looked at each other and laughed.

The theme of the Bailey Ball had been a huge topic of speculation at St John’s College for weeks, and somehow I was one of the only people who hadn’t found out what it was before the night of the ball itself. This was probably because the only friend I had in college was Rooney, and she’d refused to tell me when I asked, and I wasn’t bothered enough to force it out of her.

Apparently, there’d already been a ‘Circus’ year, ‘Alice in Wonderland’, ‘Fairy tale’, ‘Roaring ’20s’, ‘Hollywood’, ‘Vegas’, ‘Masquerade’, and ‘Under the Stars’. I did wonder whether they were starting to run out of ideas.

It wasn’t immediately clear what the theme was when we walked through the college corridors and out towards reception. The foyer had been adorned with flowers and the stairway had been turned into what looked like a castle wall, complete with turrets and balcony. Inside the dining hall, circular tables featured centrepieces of more flowers, but also crafted bottles of poison and wooden knives.

I only got it when I heard ‘I’m Kissing You’ by Des’ree playing overhead – a song I knew featured prominently in a certain 1996 Baz Luhrmann movie.

The theme was Romeo and Juliet.

We met Pip and Jason outside the doors to St John’s. Jason gave me an awkward nod, but otherwise said nothing to me.

They both looked incredible. Jason was wearing a classic tuxedo, and it hugged his broad shoulders so perfectly that it was like it’d been custom-tailored. Pip had styled her hair extra curly and was wearing black cigarette trousers, but with a velvet tuxedo jacket in a forest green colour. She’d paired that with a pair of chunky faux-snakeskin Chelsea boots, which somehow exactly matched the colour of her tortoiseshell glasses.

Rooney’s eyes flickered up and down Pip’s body.

‘You look nice,’ she said.

Pip struggled not to do the same to Rooney in her Bond girl dress, instead keeping her eyes firmly up at Rooney’s face. ‘So do you.’

Dinner felt like it went on for a year, even though it was only the beginning of what was to be the longest night of my whole life.

Rooney, Jason, Pip and I had to share a table with four other people, but thankfully they were all Rooney’s friends and acquaintances. While everyone else all got to know each other, I did what I always did and stayed silent but attentive, smiling and nodding when people spoke but not really knowing how to get involved in any of the conversations.

I felt lower than I had ever felt.

I wanted to snap out of it, but I couldn’t.

I didn’t want to be at a party where Jason hated me and Rooney and Pip were living what I would never have.

Sunil, dressed in a baby-blue tux, and Jess, who was wearing a dress covered in mint-green sequins, stopped by to say hello to us, though they mainly spoke to Rooney because she was three glasses of wine down and very talkative. When they went to leave, Sunil winked at me, which made me feel better for about two minutes, but then the brain goblins returned.

This was who I was. I was never going to experience romantic love, all because of my sexuality – a fundamental part of my being that I couldn’t change.

I drank wine. A lot of wine. It was free.

‘Only eight hours to go!’ Pip cried as we filed out of the dining hall after dessert. I was absolutely stuffed with food and, to be honest, drunk already.

I shook my head. ‘I’m not gonna make it till six a.m.’

‘Oh, you will. You will. I’m going to make sure you will.’

‘That sounds incredibly menacing.’

‘I’ll be here to flick you on the forehead if you start falling asleep.’

‘Please don’t flick me on the forehead.’

‘I can and I will.’

She attempted to demonstrate, but I ducked out of the way, laughing. Pip always knew how to cheer me up, even if she didn’t know I was feeling down in the first place.