Lizzie watched the road, which was jam-packed with traffic. She looked a little shocked at my directness and I regretted asking her.

"That's a question and a half," she answered, looking left and right.

"I was just wondering. Well, you never seem particularly interested in guys but they like you. And it occurred to me you've never done anything about it."

The sun had almost completely set. All the cars' headlights were on, creating two hazy lanes of red and white lights blurring past. It was too busy to cross and we were going to have to walk to the pedestrian crossing. But I waited for Lizzie to answer first. She was switching her weight from one foot to another, contemplating her response.

"I dunno," she said finally. "It's not like I don't want a boyfriend. It's just...and don't you dare bloody laugh at me...I haven't felt that thing..."

Now I was really shocked. Lizzie? A romantic?

"What exactly is that thing?" I asked.

She looked bewildered. "I dunno. I'm not some sappy romcom-loving girl, but I believe in...it...you know? The One. And I really believe that one day I'll just be going about my day-to-day life, probably looking like a turd, and then I'll just meet this guy completely by coincidence. And I'll know straight away he's it, and we're going to live happily ever after and grow old and wrinkly together."

I opened my mouth in astonishment.

"And it may sound stupid, but I honestly don't see the point in going out with someone if you don't feel like that about them. And I know we're only seventeen, and we're supposed to be kissing the frogs before we get to the prince and all that bollocks, but boys are just such...hard work that I really don't see the point unless it's it, you know?"

I was silenced by her words. She certainly had a way with them. I remembered the night I met Noah and found myself agreeing with her.

The cars were still rushing past us, blindly ignoring the 30 mph speed limit. I decided humour was the best way out of this situation.

"So who would have thought?" I said, nudging her in the ribs. "You? A hard-nosed, cynical, wannabe journo with such a...romantic side?"

She hit me. "Shut up, you. I know you've also got some stupid little princess trapped inside, dying to be rescued by some fit bloke with floppy hair who tells you he wants to marry you."

I did shut up. She didn't realize how close I was to becoming that soppy.

We were late so didn't have to queue and the bouncers ushered us past the red rope immediately. The moment we pushed our way through the double doors, we were greeted by steam rolling off the packed dance floor. The place was heaving. Word had obviously got out that Growing Pains were good despite having one of the most stupid names in teen band history.

Lizzie and I scanned the crowd for friendly faces. Most people were already milling round the stage, staking out a front row spot.

With last time's panic attack still a raw memory, I leaned over to shout in Lizzie's ear. "Is it okay if we stay near the back?"

"Are you kidding? Of course! I don't want a repeat performance of your joyful fainting fits."

I realized then that Lizzie was my best friend in the world. "Thanks."

It was impossible to find anyone, so Lizzie and I gave up and fought our way to the bar.

As she ordered, I tried to mentally prep myself for seeing Noah again. I really didn't want to be near him. But at the same time I wanted time to hurry up so I could look at his perfect face once more.

Lizzie handed me a rum and Coke and we drank them while looking for our friends. Some of the gothy people from college were dancing to the background music, casting their elaborately decorated bodies into interesting shapes. Some guy was pointing and laughing at them. He was clutching two beers and wearing a polo shirt with the collar deliberately pulled up looking completely out of place for Band Night. The bloke was now imitating the goths' dancing while miming slitting his wrists. His two accompanying mates shrieked with laughter.

"What an arse," Lizzie commented, spotting them.

"I know." I nodded. "I mean, why bother coming if it's not your sort of thing?"

The main piss-taker bloke had, thankfully, gone unnoticed by the goth group, who were mainly dancing with their eyes closed and waving their hands in the air. Okay, they did look a little ridiculous. But they were goths. That was the point!

The guy turned round, imitating someone who was spinning repeatedly to the soundtrack of Megadeth.

My mouth fell open. I grabbed Lizzie's hand. "Oh my God, it's Frank."

Lizzie looked at him, confused. "Who the hell is Frank?"

"My friend from English."

She looked over and wrinkled her nose. "You're friends with that guy?"

Frank saw me. I raised my hand in a half wave. He raised his bottle, then whispered to his friends. The three of them began making their way over, Frank half-jogging, a smile on his face.

"Oh great," Lizzie said. "They're coming over."

"Sorry."

"You should be."

Frank was the first to reach us. "So, Poppy Lawson this is your world?" He raised one unimpressed eyebrow.

"What are you doing here, Frank?"

He gestured towards the group of goths with his beer-holding hand. "Just checking out the local...talent. Seriously, this place is better than a circus freak show."

He really could be an arse sometimes.

His friends caught up and put their arms around Frank's shoulders in that cheery we're-all-blokes-us way that I hated.

"Alright, mate? Who have we got here then?" They quickly did a blatant full body scan of us both. Lizzie shuddered.

"This is Poppy. I do English with her." I didn't offer my hand to shake. "And this is..." He gestured towards Lizzie.

I finished his sentence. "This is my friend Elizabeth."

She didn't offer her hand either. The boys just nodded.

Frank took a sip of his beer. "This is Simon and Jedd," he said, clapping them on the back.

"Let me guess," I said dryly. "You all play rugby together?"

Frank looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"Seriously. Why are you here?"

Simon and Jedd had already turned their backs on us. Obviously Lizzie and I didn't have enough cleavage out to pass the full-body-scan test.

"Well," Frank said. "You're always going on about how I should experience real music. So I thought I may as well come along and prove to myself how crap it really is."

I crossed my arms. "You honestly didn't have anything better to do?"

"I'm thinking of it as an educational experience. Who knows? I might like it."

I shook my head.

"Anyway," he continued, "as I've made the effort, you should educate yourself too. Come to this rave Jedd is having, it's going to be awesome. His parents are super-loaded and we're setting up decks in his garden."

I pushed him friendlily, spilling a bit of his beer. "Frank. I can honestly say I would rather die than go to a rave."

"You don't know what you're missing."

"I don't need to know."

"But how do you know you won't like it?"

"I just know."

"You're stubborn."

"You're an idiot."

"Shh," Lizzie interrupted, as the club was plunged into darkness. "The band's starting."

The stage was cast into a vibrant white light as the band walked on. Everyone in the room started cheering and immediately I felt my stomach flip and my vision go hazy.

Not here. Not again. Please.

I staggered a little and bumped into Frank.

"Woah, Poppy, you okay?" he asked, putting his hands on my shoulders to steady me. I embarrassingly found myself clutching at his shirt in an attempt to keep balanced.

"I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy."

I felt a different, firmer grip on my shoulders. Lizzie was steering me towards her.

"She's fine," she barked at Frank. She turned and gave me a subtle but sharp slap across the face. "Snap out of it."

I was about to get in a mood and slap Lizzie back, when I realized I could breathe again. Her tough love had worked. I was okay. I took another gulp of air to check. Still fine. Thank God.

Disaster narrowly averted, we turned our attention back to the band. Ryan, the lead singer I'd talked to in the Lock and Key, was yelling into the microphone and stirring up the crowd as the band tuned up. His offstage shyness had vanished. I took another deep breath and let myself look at Noah. And there he was, looking as ludicrously good as I'd remembered. He was ignoring the baying crowd and concentrating on tuning his electric guitar. His dark hair flopped into his eyes. He wore dark jeans and a light-green checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Yeah, okay, he looked amazing.

Lizzie interrupted my illicit thoughts. "I can't see the others anywhere."

"I think we're going to have to wait until afterwards before we find them," I replied, my eyes still on Noah.

"Well at least we've got him for company." She pointed towards Frank, who was standing with us instead of his jock friends. Frank's attitude had changed. His green eyes were narrowed. He was alternately staring at Noah, and then studying the hordes of screaming girls flinging themselves against the stage in a desperate bid to get his attention. Frank's chest puffed out involuntarily and I saw him flex his large rugby biceps. I giggled. Frank obviously wasn't used to such competition.

Without any introduction, the band launched into their first song and everyone went crazy. The crowd started jumping and yelling along. They were even better than last time, more polished and tight. And their sound was infectious. I'm usually one of those girls who refuse to dance. I much prefer standing at the side, nodding my head in a hopefully nonchalant cool-looking way. But tonight my body was moving to the beat of its own accord. I looked at Lizzie. She was the same.

I finally managed to spot Ruth over everyone's heads. She was right near the stage, in front of Will, dancing seductively and far too slowly to the music. It was practically a striptease. She shimmied down to the floor, gyrating her crotch upwards and exposing almost all of her flesh. Will's eyes were wide as he tried to concentrate on his bass playing. I nudged Lizzie and pointed out the spectacle. Her eyes went from Ruth to Will and she dissolved into laughter.

As the band went straight into their second song, I turned to Frank, who, to my surprise, was also dancing along.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" I asked him, bringing my face close so he could hear me. "Or are you actually enjoying yourself?"

"They're not bad," he shouted back. "Though that guitarist looks like a right idiot. How full of it is he?"

We both looked at Noah. His eyes were half-closed as his fingers trembled up and down the neck of his guitar. A group of girls were screaming at him, Beatlemania-style, but he remained aloof. A resolute-looking blonde girl wasn't screaming however. She stood right beneath him, her hands clutching the sides of the stage. She was one of those girls that made you feel sick she was so unnervingly beautiful. I caught a glimpse of the side of her through a gap in the crowd as she peered up at Noah through her butter-blonde hair and slowly nodded her gorgeous head to the music, looking how I always tried and failed to look. For one brief moment she caught Noah's eye and his face broke into a broad grin, displaying his beautiful white teeth. My stomach flip-flopped and I turned away, not wanting to see any more.

"See, he's a right idiot," Frank continued. "Why is he doing that eyes half-closed thing? Who does he think he is? You're not in Kasabian, mate."

To my surprise I found myself laughing. "You're just jealous because you haven't got any groupies."

Frank puffed out his chest again. "What the hell? Yes I do. You should see the girls who come and watch me play rugby."

"No thank you."

"There's loads of them. They all cheer for me from the sidelines."

I grimaced. "Let me guess. None of them wear coats even though it's freezing. They all wear a face-load of make-up even though they're only standing in a field. And afterwards they corner you in the pub, wearing oversized rugby shirts as minidresses, and try and impress you with their knowledge of the game."

Frank looked confused. "How did you know?"

I rolled my eyes. "What happened to you, Frank? I thought we bonded over our mutual hatred of people like that?"

"Hey. I know they're silly, Poppy. I don't actually like them."

"You don't?"

"No. But come on! It makes me feel pretty good about myself. Even if they do have a combined IQ of about minus 208."

"That's better."

He finished the last of his beer and threw the cup on the ground before grabbing both my hands. "Come on, let's dance."

I don't normally dance in public but, with Frank, I didn't feel embarrassed. He twirled me around and kept turning me upside down. Even Lizzie began to thaw to him. At one moment he grabbed her and spun her round like a dad trying to make his daughter dizzy in the park. She screamed but you could tell she was loving it. Then Frank started ballroom-dancing me round the back of the club.

"You know, don't say 'I told you so' but I think I actually like this music," he said, twirling me under his arm.

"I told you so."

"Shut up. Maybe it's just the beer."

He dipped me, and I threw my head back, laughing.

"People are going to think we're crazy," I protested. "We must look nuts."

He shook his head. "Nah. We just look like we're having fun."