‘Stop it,’ he laughs. ‘You’re making me blush.’
I giggle with him, and then cast my eyes over to take another hit of the outlook, but my eyes don’t make it to the open air and view beyond because they find Ben first. And they find him stuck to a woman’s mouth. I wince and quickly try to work out my best move, but I can think of nothing except downing my fresh drink and shoving it in Gregory’s face.
‘Another?’ he asks incredulously. ‘Calm down, Livy.’
‘I’m fine,’ I assure him, taking his elbow, but he doesn’t shift, and as I glance up, I see that he’s found what I’m trying to get him away from. ‘Greg?’ His eyes slowly fall to mine, and I see too much misery to take the softly-softly approach, so I tug at him until he’s forced to move. ‘Let’s get a drink.’
‘Yes, let’s.’ He grinds the words out, shifting his arms from my grip and taking my hand.
I’m led with purpose back down the two flights of stairs and to the bar where Gregory orders two champagnes. In the short time that we’ve been away, the atmosphere has cranked up a few notches and people are starting to move to the round dance floor, drinks in hand. The music seems louder, too, and there’s definitely a shift in the reserved environment as the champagne flows freely – and for free – and Daft Punk, featuring Pharrell Williams, pumps through the speakers.
‘Drink up.’ Gregory doesn’t pass me just a flute this time. It’s a shot, and my eyes dart to his. ‘Come on,’ he pleads.
My reluctance is clear. I’ve had a few glasses of champagne and I feel okay, but that shouldn’t be a green light to start throwing shots down my neck. ‘Greg . . .’
‘Come on. I won’t let anything happen, Livy,’ he assures me, and stupidly or not, I take the glass and knock it with his before tipping the contents down my throat. The burn is instant and so is the reminder of all the times I’ve drunk before.
I gasp and slam my shot glass down before taking the flute and downing the more pleasant champagne. ‘That was nasty.’
‘That was tequila, but you forgot the salt and lemon.’ He holds up a salt shaker and a wedge of fresh lemon before carrying out the practice the right way, licking the back of his hand, sprinkling the salt, licking again, downing the liquid, and sinking his teeth into the wedge. ‘It’s much better this way.’
‘You should’ve stopped me,’ I complain, struggling to rid my mouth of the rancid taste.
‘You didn’t give me a chance,’ he laughs. ‘Let’s do another.’ He orders another and this time I see through the sequence correctly, following Greg’s lead.
I shudder at the lingering flavour, but then I’m shuddering for a whole other reason when a familiar beat takes over the current track. I instantly look to see Gregory’s wide, delighted eyes.
‘Carte Blanche,’ I whisper, my mind bombarded with memories of Gregory creating a disco in my bedroom all of the times I refused to go to an actual club.
‘How apt,’ Gregory confirms, a grin spreading across his face. ‘“Veracocha”! Our tune, baby girl!’ We both down another champagne before my hand is grasped and I’m being dragged to the floor. I don’t object. I wouldn’t. Gregory’s smiling, and after what has just transpired, this is a good thing.
He pushes us through the crowd until we’re joining the flurry of other dancers who all appreciate the classic anthem as much as we do. Strobe lighting darts around us, flitting across the faces of people and intensifying my feel-good mood. We both slip into the groove, hands in the air, bodies swaying, twisting and twirling each other around the floor, laughing as we do. It’s a novelty and a good one. I’m having fun.
Gregory pulls me into his chest and puts his mouth to my ear so I can hear him over the music and cheering. ‘I’m giving it three minutes for a bloke to move in on you.’
‘I’m dancing with a man,’ I laugh. ‘He’d have to be pretty cocksure.’
‘Give me a break,’ he scoffs. ‘We’re clearly not dating.’
I’m about to disagree, but I see Ben approaching behind Gregory, smiling and greeting people as he passes through the dance-floor crowd. I want to drag my friend away, but I’m also curious how this will play out. Ben doesn’t know that we saw him, and I’m wondering how Gregory will handle it. Breaking away from him, I move back, ensuring I keep my smile and Gregory’s attention.