Chapter Eight
Eight
The one where he watched me murder a song
It wasn’t that we actively picked the same university. It was just that Sam wanted to go to Brighton, and I wanted to do an art degree which the same university offered and so it was a convenient thing for us both.
Was there a degree of separation anxiety at play? Maybe. We did have a wider group of friends by this point, but Sam and I were inseparable in a way that was more like family than friendship.
At least it felt like that for me.
The first term had been a whirlwind of growing up. Sam and I hadn’t shared halls, so we lived at least some of our lives apart, making new friends and learning to be independent in the beautiful, messy way you do during those first weeks at university.
Boys had become a new hobby of mine and, although I was still very much a virgin thanks largely to being irritatingly shy when it came to making the next step, I’d dabbled in the game, kissed plenty of frogs.
I was a different girl. I dressed more risqué, making more of a habit of wearing tank tops instead of oversized band t-shirts.
I tried miniskirts over jeans. Not to mention getting contact lenses so I didn’t need to drag my glasses around the clubs.
That’s why when Sam suggested we got a few friends together for New Year’s Eve, I was excited to show off the new Hattie.
To me, it felt like it had been years, not months.
After the previous house party, which cost us hundreds each in repairs, we were on strict instructions not to have a party.
What we did manage to negotiate with Mandy was having a few friends round for dinner and karaoke. It was very much not an open invitation. Priya and Sara visited and stayed at mine just so they could celebrate our birthdays.
After a few drinking games, I fled to the kitchen to grab a glass of wine. I helped myself to the open bottle instead, already chilled in the fridge, and was just about to walk off with it when I closed the door and stepped straight into a large body.
“Shit,” I stammered, stumbling back a step until I could feel the cool granite worktop against my bare lower back. Freddie set his sharp gaze on mine, a slight twist in his lips.
“Where you going with my wine, Hattie?”
“Erm…”
“Can I have it back, please?” he practically purred, putting his hand out like I would simply give it to him. Something about the interaction made me want to challenge him. It felt feral, wild even, considering Sam was next door and Freddie was a grown man.
But I felt grown-up too. Empowered. A dangerous flint flaring in my core.
“What you going to do if I don’t?” I said, holding his eye contact bravely as I took a sip direct from the bottle.
Freddie watched the way my lips fastened around the stem and locked his gaze there for an earth-shatteringly long time. I wavered slightly.
He stepped in closer, folding his arms across his chest, his baggy, grey t-shirt bunching around his smooth muscles. I gulped.
“What will you give me in exchange for it?” he asked.
My lips parted. His eyes caught that too. He was too experienced for me. I was playing with fire, and he knew it. And yet, something in the way my tummy dipped told me I should keep going. I liked how it felt to taunt him.
“What do you want?”
He smirked, shaking his head like he was having fun.
Unfortunately, the game ended as Sam’s voice echoed down the hall. “Hatter! Hurry up! We’re getting started, for fuck’s sake.”
I gave Freddie one last challenging stare, stepping past him with the bottle to see if he’d snatch it or say anything else. He watched me the whole way as if he was seeing someone or something new.
“Fine. Have it,” he said; the low rumble of his voice seemed to have some kind of control over my pulse. “Be a good girl, Hattie.”
A good girl? Fuck!
Heat rushed through me as I skittered away, joining Priya on the sofa and sipping straight from the bottle until I felt the energy Freddie had riled up in me ebb away.
Of course, this meant I was suitably drunk when Sam, the current birthday boy, set the karaoke machine up, starting us all off with the classic ‘Sweet Caroline’.
“Hattie, you next,” Sara yelled, her long, blonde hair falling flat across her shoulder in silky drapes.
I scoffed. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the birthday girl.”
“That should work for me, not against me. Especially at my own party. Besides, it’s Sam’s birthday right now. I have a few hours yet,” I pointed out.
“Oh, come on,” she goaded. “Look at your cheeks. You’re perfectly drunk enough for this.”
“I’ve been on the wine,” I said proudly, displaying my empty bottle to the room.
“Ooh someone’s doing well,” Priya joked. “How can you afford wine?”
I shrugged. “Stole it from the fridge.”
Sam heard this. “That was Freddie’s, I think.”
“Was it?” I asked innocently.
“Come on, you have to go next,” Sara pushed again.
Priya gave me a shove, so I took the bait, stepping up to the small space by the bay window which was pretending to be the stage. Sara took me through the options.
“Not Taylor Swift. Priya will critique my performance. And can you really karaoke to LMFAO? I don’t feel like you can.”
“Sure, you can,” Sara said. “You just have to have fun with it.”
“Oh wait,” I said, pointing to the track I wanted to try.
Sara blew out a breath. “Ok, you’re absolutely bloody wasted. You really think you can sing this?”
“You really think you can sing this?” I mimicked.
“It’s really high pitched.”
“I’m doing it. Sod it.”
“Fine. But I’m already embarrassed on your behalf.
” She set it up on the machine then went to sit next to Priya.
And as it started to play, the room broke into a round of laughs and humoured groans.
Sara and Priya had the giggles, holding onto each other as I got into the early beats of ‘Thunderstruck’ by AC/DC.
Challenging? Yes.
A party starter? Absolutely.
Something I was vocally capable of pulling off? Fuck no.
And yes, I was suitably drunk as it turned out. Thank fuck for that or I would have definitely bottled it during the first chorus. Sam jumped up beside me, playing his air guitar like a pro while Brandon from school sat on the windowsill behind to play the pretend drums.
I was having so much fun, I almost missed the tall, broad-shouldered body taking up most of the doorway. Freddie leant on the frame; his lips quirked into an impressed grin. Whatever it was that impressed him, I knew it wasn’t my pitchy voice.
At one point, I was so screechy, Sara was covering her ears. But it didn’t matter, because most of the room were dancing and laughing and isn’t that what parties are all about anyway?
Freddie watched the whole way through. Even when the pretty, dark-haired girl appeared at his side, hanging onto his arm. I was unnervingly aware of his presence but carried on proudly. If he wanted to watch, so be it.
I could be his forbidden muse.