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
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
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