"Mmm." Maybe leaving soon is a better idea.

We hit the pub early and the place has filled since I last looked around. Lots of blurry people.

"I miss him," says Nita.

"Who?"

"Nate. He's funny. Cool guy." She points at me with one finger from the hand she's holding around her gla.s.s. "I swear he was into you."

"Sure. Like I'm his type."

"Just saying. Maybe he stopped coming because he couldn't handle you'd hooked up with Ethan." She giggles. "Nice catch there."

I smile drunkenly to myself. He sure is. We're officially dating and he's a sweetheart. Respectful guy who sends romantic texts and understands when I can't see him because of study.

"He's special," I say. "Sam?" I hold the gla.s.s out.

As Sam slides off the bench seat to head to the bar, I take advantage of the s.p.a.ce and pay a visit to the bathrooms. I hold the sink and look at my drunk self in the mirror. Days like these where the world is straightforward, everything in its place, are somehow happier when alcohol flows through too.

I'm not one to admire myself, and maybe the soft focus of drink helps, but I had to admit to myself that I'm lucky to look okay with no make-up on. Some girls hide behind it, as with anything about me, you get what you see.

Stepping into the growing volume of music and voices in the small pub, I head back to the table. On the way over, I spot the guy I've been thinking about at the bar. Ethan. He's side view and my heart rate picks up remembering our time together the other night as I walk over. I came close to relenting and spending the night with him, but we've only been together a couple of weeks and I need to see how serious we become first.

"Hey," I say and smile.

Ethan looks around in surprise. "Fleur. I thought you had study group tonight."

"We're celebrating instead. Aced it!"

"Oh. Cool. Well done."

The guy he's with laughs and Ethan shoots him a look.

"Come and sit with us," I say, indicating my friends.

"It's okay; I'm not staying long."

The guy he's with chuckles again. "He's busy tonight."

"That's okay! We can catch up tomorrow." No way do I want to come across as the clingy girlfriend.

"Sure thing."

I tiptoe to kiss Ethan and he turns his face so I hit his cheek instead. Suspicion finally pushes through my drunken haze. "Everything okay?"

Ethan pushes some hair from my face. "Sure thing, I need to go though."

"You just arrived."

He glances over my shoulder then closes his eyes, face scrunching up.

"Ethan, honey."

A girl sidles up to him and wraps an arm around Ethan's waist.

What the h.e.l.l? I steady myself on the bar. Do I know her? Yes. This is the girl from the party Will humiliated me at. Has he been with her all this time?

"Fleur..." he begins.

My usual ability to conjure witty comebacks hasn't accompanied me tonight. The nausea gripping my stomach is no longer alcohol induced and it's a b.l.o.o.d.y good job I hold onto enough sobriety to stop myself making a scene.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

I take a deep breath and fix my eyes on his. Ethan looks away.

b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"Right. I understand." I turn and head back to the table where Nita watches me with concern.

"I was going to come and find you when I saw him," she says. "I'm sorry. Do you want to go?"

"What? No!" I s.n.a.t.c.h my fresh drink from the table and drink half of the gla.s.s in one go. "Just because he's an d.i.c.khead, doesn't mean he should ruin my night. I need vodka in this."

Nita looks at me dubiously. "Okay..."

"We'll stay for a couple more and then let's go to Discovery."

"Discovery?"

"Yeah. Student night. Haven't been all term. Thought we were celebrating."

Slumping back in my seat, I watch as Ethan heads out of the pub with his friend and the girl. I should've expected this to happen when I refused s.e.x with him. I guess he's not one for waiting around. a.r.s.ehole.

"She's wasted." Steph's voice from nearby but far away.

"I know. I told her to stop." Nita.

"Did you call a cab?"

"At this time? And how much cash do you think I have?"

"How are we going to get on the b.l.o.o.d.y bus when she can't stand?"

My hair hangs in my face and I stare at the sticky carpet. The music grows louder, then quieter again as a door opens and closes. "I'm okay."

Anne crouches down and I attempt to focus on her face. "Do you feel sick?"

"No," I mumble.

"What's going on?" Another person joins my audience and I stare as a pair of bashed up combat boots enter my line of sight. "Fleur?"

I peer up through my fringe and focus. Will or Nate. Twin. "Which one are you?" I ask as he crouches in front of me. "'Cause if you're Will coming for another go, you can p.i.s.s off!"

"Wow, you're an obnoxious drunk!"

I hiccup down the vomit threatening to spill as he stands again. A discussion continues in low voices as I gaze with interest at the pattern on the carpet.

"Nate's taking you home," says Steph.

"Nate?"

Powerful hands pull me to my feet, catching under my arms. "Or Will."

"Who? Which?" I mumble.

"Whichever one you want me to be."

With those words, I accept this is Nate and relax. A little too much because my feet don't appear to be working. I stumble forward and end up with my face pressed against Nate's hard chest. He smells all kinds of amazing, fresher than the grungy guy he looks.

"You okay to walk?" he asks; and as my legs buckle again, he laughs. "Stupid question."

The world shifts position as Nate scoops me up, arms beneath my legs and I grab him around the neck. "Don't drop me!" I shriek.

He hitches me higher, arm around my waist. "Are you suggesting I'm weak?"

"No, you're just a bit..." I squeeze an arm around his tense bicep. Maybe not.

"A bit what?"

"Never mind."

"I'm perfectly capable of carrying a damsel away from her distress."

I'd fight for him to put me down but suspect I wouldn't do a very good job of walking home alone. "Funny."

"You are when you're drunk. What happened?"

The fresh air hits as we step out of the club into the autumn air, and I wish I knew where my coat is. "Am I not allowed to get drunk?"

Nate sets me down, carefully leaning me against a wall. "You are allowed to do whatever you want Fleur; but I don't want to hear you're getting drunk because something s.h.i.t happened to you."

"Hmm." My back sc.r.a.pes along the wall as I slide to the floor.

I look up at Nate who looks down with an amused quirk to his mouth.

"What's funny?" I snap.

"Nothing. Well, drunk chicks are always funny." I'm about to retort when he steps away. "Wait there."

Like I'm going anywhere? I rest my head against the rough bricks and watch Nate hail a cab, who has my messenger bag hooked around his back. A couple of pa.s.sersby look down at me. Normally I'd be mortified; but really, I don't give a c.r.a.p. I just want to go home.

Why does fresh air always increase the intoxication? I refused to let him carry me again, so Nate patiently agreed to let me pick my way along the pathway to my house, a journey filled with peril as I managed to trip over something imaginary and graze my knee.

"You're f.u.c.king funny," he laughs and hauls me to my feet.

We finally reach my front door and he takes my keys; Nate pushes open the door, and I stumble in.

Heading to the nearest armchair, I sit heavily. "Thanks, I'm home now."

"What? Aren't you going to offer me a drink for my heroics?"

I attempt to focus on him. "I can hardly see you, let alone stand and make you a drink."

He eyes the stairs. "Want help getting to bed?"

I straighten. "You can forget that! I'm not s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g you!"

"If your friends thought I was going to take advantage, would they have let me bring you home?" Annoyance tinges his voice. "Date rape isn't on my to do list."

"Sorry," I mumble. "Not a fan of men tonight."

"So this state you're in is about more than a celebration. Ethan?"

I push my hair from my eyes and look at him. "Ethan is a d.i.c.khead."

"That's quite a common phrase for you to use about men. Are there any guys you know who aren't d.i.c.kheads?"

"Not many."

"Me?"

"Don't really know you."

Nate's silent for a few moments until he quietly says, "I guess not."

"And yes."

"Yes?"

"Can you help me upstairs? But that's all!"

Nate crosses and pulls me upright. OhmiG.o.d, the stairs are steeper than I remember. A laughing Nate walks up the stairs behind me and holds a hand to catch me each time I trip backwards. Why did this have to be him? I've ruined the image I've portrayed to him as a sensible, in control girl.

My bed has never looked this inviting and I flop backwards onto it. Nate sits on the edge and drags my shoes off before placing my feet on the bed. "What did he do?"