29
Apparently, even the toffs in London have tacky taste in nightclubs, because we’re in one of those sticky-floor-ABBA-playing-plastic-cup-giving nightclubs and not the rooftop bar I’d assumed we’d be at.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, (like yes, even the red-soled mean girls), is trashed.
Julian and Jas are practically having sex on the dancefloor to a Fergie song I had forgotten existed and Seb, who I’m certain had a girlfriend at the engagement party, if not the party we were at two hours ago, has his tongue down some girl’s throat and is dry humping her on a sofa in the corner.
Things have descended quickly into chaos and I am suddenly fucked off that those mean girls in the bathroom suggested I was trashy!! They’re drinking vodka Red Bulls, man. And I just saw one of them full-on neck-on with a guy who is wearing a black bin bag as a top. Is she kidding?
The song changes and the recognisable first lyrics of a Ke$ha song play. I scream and Miles pulls me into him. I’ve drunk a lot more by now, and the fact that Adriana is still standing at the door staring daggers at me doesn’t even matter.
In fact, I think Miles may even have forgotten she’s there because he’s been dancing like a madman with me, singing and then pulling me against him whenever he doesn’t know the song.
He’s gesticulating wildly to me now and I laugh, taking a long drink of a third plastic cup of vodka and lemonade. I drain the cup and throw it as best I can onto the table we’re next to. Miles does the same and then pulls me against him again.
In the few hours we’ve been in this nightclub, I’ve become more intimately familiar with Miles’s body than I ever thought I would. His strong arms hold me close now and I am pressed against his torso, which is also pretty solid. He has his hands on my hips as the music changes again. This time Hips Don’t Lie begins playing and I screech. Miles grins down at me, pressing his forehead to mine and rolling his hips against me.
I roll with them, completely losing myself. We’re not even dancing to the beat anymore. Any other time and I’d be trying to get him to move faster, just so that we were on the beat, but right now I don’t care. All I care about is the languid, sultry movement of his hips against mine, and the outline of what I’ve got to assume is proof that he’s also enjoying this. There is a pull, somewhere deep in my body, an ache between my thighs, as his hands move up my neck.
He leans in before I even realise what we’re doing. His lips crash to mine and I don’t hesitate to pull him closer, pressing my chest against his. I once heard that guys like it when you do this, and from the way Miles groans into my lips, I assume it’s true. I feel my cheeks pull into a smile.
We kiss for what feels like hours, his hands exploring my body, mine pulling at his hair, but then the song ends and a One Direction hit comes on and I pull back to sing along very loudly. He laughs and twirls me under his arm, then grabs my hand to dance with me like my grandparents used to.
I grin at him as he twirls me again.
What the fuck was that kiss?
Apart from fucking hot, of course.
I look around the room, wondering if he had spotted Adrianna watching, but she is nowhere to be seen. In fact, except for Julian, Jas, and Seb, who are still procreating, albeit separately, I can’t really see anyone we came with.
*
When the lights come on in the club, I am significantly more sober than I was a few hours ago. I scream up at the roof, cursing the person who invented lighting, and Miles is laughing and pulling me from the crowded room, trying to beat the masses now heading for the doors.
Once we’re outside, Miles pulls his phone out and begins ordering an Uber. I sure am glad he’s got the wherewithal to use his phone because if it were up to me, we’d have to sleep here. The Uber arrives quickly and we’re back at the hotel as the light outside begins turning from blue to pink and yellow like it’s now real morning.
Walking through the lobby, I suddenly feel very out of place. How many people traipse into the Ritz in the early hours of the morning, I wonder? I voice this aloud to Miles in the lift. He just snorts and says the slew of celebrities they have had stay here over the years have probably been much worse.
The lift dings open on our floor and we step out and nearly collide with someone going to get into the lift. I look up to realise it’s Adriana.
She’s dressed in biker shorts and a sports bra and there are absolutely no lumps on her body because of course there aren’t. Her matching set is cute and her trainers are clean and I am once again wondering if it’s just in the genes of some girls to be good at this stuff.
Her eyes widen and then immediately flick to where Miles has hold of my hand. I hadn’t even realised we were holding hands, but I grip him tighter now, suddenly feeling possessive.
“Are you only just getting back now?” she asks, directing the question at Miles.
Miles is frowning at her, “Are you going for a run at 6.30 am?” he asks in reply, not even acknowledging her question. He’s also not hiding his outright disgust at the fact she’s gotten up after a night out to go for a run when the sun is barely up. Like, when did she leave the club to look this awake right now?
I dread to think what I look like.
She folds her arms across her chest, “Yes,” she says, “You know I like running in the morning,” she adds with a smile. Her eyes flick to mine and it’s only because I’m too tired to raise my eyebrow that I don’t. Is she trying to remind me that she and Miles used to date? I remember, Adriana, don’t you fucking worry.
Miles just looks confused and shakes his head. There is a moment of total silence and I realise how uncomfortable I feel.
“Miles, we should catch up at some point,” Adriana says suddenly, and I get her meaning. Catch-up means talking without the new girl here, and I suddenly feel dismissed.
I plaster a fake grin on my face, “How about now, while you wait for the lift,” I say, gesturing to the lift which has now closed in the time we have all been staring at each other and grabbing the key card out of Miles’s hand. I power walk down the corridor and open the door, then leave it on the latch, hoping that Miles follows me soon. For one crazy moment, I wonder if they’ll go to her room. Then I remember that Miles is not a total prick .
Once I get inside the room, I try very hard not to have a meltdown. I don’t know why I did that. I mean, I do. I feel guilty. If he really wants to be with her, then now is kind of his chance. If she lives in another country, they probably don’t have much chance to see each other in person, and this is their opportunity.
And as much as I want to burst into tears, I also don’t want to stand in the way of Miles’s happiness. In the past few months, getting to know him has been a fucking dream. I might have a mad little crush on him, but he’s also become a friend and that means I want him to be happy.
I am chanting this to myself over and over as I step out of my heels and begin to take my makeup off. It doesn’t take much since most of it sweated off in the club, so I am moisturising my face when the door opens.
I take a deep breath, readying myself for what’s to come. I tell myself that if he tells me that they’re going to give it another go, I won’t vomit on the carpet.
I don’t turn, I just continue rubbing my moisturiser in, even adding eye cream, as Miles puts the latch back down.
“Del,” he says, and I hear him coming across the room now. When I don’t turn, he sighs and continues, “Why did you do that?”
I wonder if he’s annoyed at me for leaving him with her, but there’s something about the way he says it, as though he’s hurt, that makes me turn .
“I just wanted to give you a chance with her alone,” I whisper.
He shakes his head, only a foot away from me now, “You can’t seriously think that I would rather be with her right now,” His eyes search me, looking for an answer I don’t know how to give. I shrug, trying not to let on that my heart just jumped in my fucking chest. “Del,” he says, “I don’t want to be with her, I want to be in here with you,” he says, and then he closes the gap between us. He cups my face with his hands and presses his lips to mine.
I hesitate for just a moment, wondering what the fuck is going on, and then I throw my hands around his neck and pull him into me, realising I don’t even need to know. Not yet.