I Owe You One(64)

She’s snapping at him, I realize. She looks quite vicious. God, I wish I could lip-read. What’s she saying?

Now he’s replying … She’s interrupting … They’re having a row, I realize in astonishment. They’re actually having a row! Somehow I thought Seb wasn’t the type to have rows. Especially not in the middle of a club.

As I watch in fascination, Briony’s face twists. She spits out a whole series of words at Seb and pushes her chair back. She flings a pashmina around her shoulder and grabs her bag. She looks kind of magnificent, I can’t help thinking, in a scary-monster sort of way. She’s so glossy. She’s so self-possessed. She fires some final comment at Seb and strides out, and I exhale. That was intense. And I wasn’t even in it.

My brain is swirling with alcohol. The lights are starting to blur and I’m swaying a little. Maybe I drank those cocktails a bit too quickly. Even so, as Seb gets up from his chair, I feel suddenly alert. Hang on. Where’s he going? Which way is he walking?

Shit. He’s coming in this direction, toward the bar. Shit.

OK, quick, I need to face away from him. Away. This is crucial. Away. I look around for a solution and spy Nicole, who is on her own, talking on the phone.

“Drew, I have to go,” I hear her say. She rings off and takes a sip of her drink, staring ahead. Her jaw is tight and her eyes are narrowed and she looks quite stressed.

Yowser, I think hazily. Did she and Drew have a row?

“Hi, Nicole!” I say, stumbling over to her. “We never talk. Let’s talk. Is everything OK?”

At once she turns a defensive gaze on me. “Of course it is,” she says. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Typical. I wish just once Nicole would engage and we could have an actual conversation.

I glance over my shoulder. Seb is at the bar. He’s ordering a drink. Whiskey, looks like.

“You know, Drew adores you,” I say to Nicole. “I’m sure he does. Like, this much.” I extend my arms wide, tottering on my heels. “This much.”

“You look drunk, Fixie.” She eyes me suspiciously.

“I’m not,” I assure her. “Not at all. Not drunk,” I add for emphasis.

“You are drunk!” She stares at me. “How many drinks have you had?”

“Ten,” I say defiantly, taking a swig of cocktail. Surreptitiously I turn to check out Seb again, thinking I must be safe. But to my horror he’s turned away from the bar and his eyes meet mine. His face jerks in surprise and I quickly whip my head back round, my heart thudding.

He didn’t recognize me, I tell myself. Of course he didn’t. He couldn’t have, not in that fleeting moment. Even so, I decide to move behind Nicole so that I’m concealed. Then, in sudden inspiration, I crouch down. OK, this is good. She’s completely blocking me. Also, it’s quite comfortable, down here on my heels. The room is whirling less. It’s relaxing. Parties should have more crouching.

“What the hell are you doing?” demands Nicole.

“Shhh!” I say. “Don’t move!”

I can’t see Seb. I can’t see anything but the shifting light on Nicole’s white fringed dress in front of my eyes. It’s kind of mesmerizing, especially given that my brain seems to be doing a 360 rotation every thirty seconds.

“Look, there’s sushi,” Nicole announces suddenly. “I’m getting some.” And to my dismay, she moves away, leaving me totally exposed.

“Wait!” I cry. “Nicole! Come back!”

I try to get to my feet, but I’m stuck. What is wrong with my knees? Why won’t they work? Stupid knees. Stupid cocktails.

“Fixie?” As I hear Seb’s incredulous voice, my stomach drops. I force myself to raise my head. And there he is, standing in front of me, holding his glass and looking astonished.

He doesn’t have to look so surprised. It’s a free country.

“Oh,” I say with dignity. “Yes. Hello. I was just crouching here.”

“So I see.”

There’s silence, and I attempt to rise gracefully to my feet like a swan, but it really isn’t happening.

“May I?” He extends a hand and reluctantly I take it.

“Thank you,” I say politely as he helps me up.

“My pleasure.”

There’s silence between us, suddenly filled by music thumping from the tiny dance floor. The DJ must have started his set. Seb looks strained, I decide as I survey him. But that’s not surprising, given the ear-bashing he’s just had from Briony. If that’s who she is.

I should probably make small talk, but I’ve never been any good at that. So instead I blurt out, more forcefully than I intended, “What are you doing here? You said you never come here. You said it wasn’t your scene.”

I know I sound antagonistic, but I have good reason. If people say they don’t go to places, they shouldn’t go to them. And the truth is, seeing Seb is making me all hot and prickly. I’ve been trying so hard to put on a brave face these last two weeks. I’ve been making jokes and laughing lightly, spinning the story that Ryan and I were always a temporary fling and I’m not hurt at all. I’ve even put on the bravest face I can to Hannah.

But Seb knows. He knows. He saw me at my most vulnerable, face stricken, world crashing around me. Which is why I would rather not bump into him at clubs.