“Who? You’re going to need to give me more than his gender, here of all places!”
“By that noisy hen party. Wearing a striped shirt. Blonde quiff. Glasses.” Other than the glasses, Mr Gorgeous reminded me a little of Jake. It took Mickey a few seconds to locate him.
“Holy mother of Jesus. That man is beautiful. A ten definitely. But way out of my league.”
“You don’t know that. Go and say hi.”
“Not a chance. Neve, I know enough to know that I will get blown out by someone like that and, frankly, my ego doesn’t need it.” He clearly did believe what he was saying. That meant it was up to me to do something about it.
“Come on,” I said, leading him back to the dance floor. After a few minutes, Mickey had relaxed a bit and I managed to manoeuvre us in the direction of Mr Gorgeous. God, he really was beautiful. I hoped for both Mickey’s and my sake that he was gay. Grinning at Mickey like a madwoman, I went in for the kill.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I lied after bumping into Mr Gorgeous and flashing him a huge smile.
“That’s okay,” he said, returning my smile. Friendly but not interested: definitely gay. “It’s hard not to in here.” Hard. Mmmm.
“I’m Neve,” I said, before he had chance to turn away.
“Tom,” he replied, running a hand through his hair and causing his shirt to briefly rise, exposing a smooth, taut stomach. I hoped Mickey was enjoying the show. I was.
“This is Mickey.” I pulled Mickey over. “Mickey, this is Tom.”
“Uh, hi,” was Mickey’s amazingly articulate response.
“I’m just going to get a drink. Can I get you one, Tom?”
“No, I’m great, thanks.” I left the two of them making small-talk as I wound my way to the bar.
Tucking two over-priced bottles of water under one arm, I turned from the bar and tried to spot Mickey, who was no longer where I had left him. I walked through the dancing crowd but there was no sign of him or Tom. Maybe it was because I was starting to worry about Mickey, but, as I looked around, I was sure I glimpsed Garrett. Well, someone who looked just like him from behind. I cast the thought away, knowing Seventh Heaven was hardly sophisticated or cultured enough for Garrett to be interested in being there.
I soon spotted the striped shirt and quiff of Mr Gorgeous in the corner, his back to me. Hoping Mickey was still with him, I wound my way past numerous dancing and smooching couples. Until I realised Mickey and Tom were one of those smooching couples. Suffice to say, Mickey had obviously made it to first base. The two of them kissing was actually quite hot – until I thought about the fact that one of them was Mickey. My BBFF Mickey. Ugh!
I left one of the bottles of water at Mickey’s feet and found a space on the dance floor, just a few feet away. Before long, I was immersed in the music, arms in the air, swaying in time with the disco beat.
I jumped when a hand stroked my side, from under my arm and down to my hip. Turning round, it wasn’t Mickey who had touched me. It was Garrett. Garrett with a drunken glaze to his eyes. Garrett whose hand was back on my hip.
“Get off me!” Surrounded by the crowd of dancers, oblivious to what was going on, I hadn’t got much space to pull back from him. I put my arms out to create a barrier between us. Big mistake. That just gave him the opportunity to put both hands on my waist and pull me into his hips. Grinding against me, he attempted to kiss me but I leant back as far as I could to avoid his mouth. “Fuck off!” I slapped him across the face. Hard. The shock made him release me and I managed to move away.
Breathing heavily, I looked around for Mickey, Tom, anyone.
No one.
Garrett pulled my arm so hard my body had no choice but to follow. His head dipped down to mine, probably looking like he was kissing me to anyone who might see us.
“Don’t ever hit me again,” he said, his voice filled with quiet menace.
“Don’t ever touch me again,” I said, my voice filled with loud hatred.
“I mean it, Neve. Give in now. Make it easy on yourself.”
“I mean it, Garret. Give in now. Make it easy on yourself.” My parroted reply was enough to send him over the edge. His face became a contorted, ugly mask. And I was scared.
Scared enough to give me the energy to pull away from him and run.
Run.
Run into Mickey’s arms.
“You okay, babe?”
“Garrett… Garrett… me…” I couldn’t breathe, let alone make sense.
“Come here,” he said, leading me over to the wall. He leant me against it, rubbing my arms and telling me to breathe.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In.
Out.
“I’m okay now.” However, I was still trying to see if Garrett was around. Why hadn’t I trusted my instincts earlier? “Can we go?”
By the time I was back in bed, my body was exhausted but my brain wouldn’t still.
What if Garrett caught me alone next time?
What if Garrett wouldn’t take no?
What if…?