Page 61 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

“Oh no. You arenotgoing to make me cry. Let’s get you a drink.” Sophie grabbed two glasses and poured gin with seltzer and a splash of Ribena—a black currant juice—into both, one for each of them. “To Mandy!” she called.

“To Mandy,” her friends repeated, and then all drank.

And ate.

And drank.

And drank.

And drank.

A few hours later, the flat was overstuffed with people, butMandy was terribly drunk. She sat on Sophie’s lap on her emerald-green velvet couch talking to Leo about…well, actually, she wasn’t exactly sure what they were talking about anymore.

Sophie twirled Mandy’s hair between her fingers. “It’s not just good music though,” she was saying, “there’s a message there. Take ‘A Certain Romance,’ for example. It talks about how boredom breeds violence. That’s bloody powerful.”

Leo gazed at Sophie pensively. Maybe he didn’t know what she was talking about either. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

“I don’t even know what you’re saying,” Mandy said.

Sophie laughed and tugged Mandy’s hair. “That’s because you’re pissed.”

“I’m so fucking pissed,” Mandy agreed. She probably shouldn’t have had that last shot, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. She’d been drunk before, but neverthisdrunk.

Rafe handed Mandy a bag of crisps and slipped onto the couch behind Sophie. “Eat something.”

Prawn wasn’t her favorite flavor, but she needed to soak up some of the alcohol.

“You’ve been hogging my girl all night,” Rafe said as he reached around and tugged a little of Mandy’s hair too. “When do I get a turn?”

“When I leave tomorrow,” Mandy mumbled through a mouthful. “Bugger off. She’s mine until then.”

“She’s right, babe.” Sophie leaned back and kissed Rafe’s scruffy cheek. “I’m hers until tomorrow. That was the deal.”

Mandy shoved another handful of crisps in her mouth. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’m gonna miss you more.” Sophie kissed Mandy’s cheek. Nothing romantic ever happened with them—even that kiss onNew Year’s Eve the year before couldn’t be defined that way—but Mandy loved Sophie, and Sophie loved Mandy. It was something they told each other often. It was a familial love, a sisterly love, the kind of love where they could sit on each other’s laps and twirl each other’s hair and kiss on the cheek. It was also the familial love where they farted and could be ugly and were just totally real with each other. The same kind of love Mandy had with Isa—before.

Mandy was going to miss it. Miss Sophie. Miss snuggling on the couch together. “You have to come and visit.” A rogue tear slipped down Mandy’s cheek. “Promise me.”

“Fuck,” Sophie said, and then she was crying too. “I promise.” She kissed Mandy’s cheek again. “I promise, I promise.”

“You two are so gross,” Finny said, and he took a seat on Leo’s lap.

“The same could be said about you two.” Mandy threw a couple of crisps at them.

“Yes, we are,” Leo said. Out of all of Finny’s boyfriends, Leo was the one Mandy liked best. He complemented Finny’s exuberant side, never got embarrassed when Finny broke out into song and dance at random occasions, and let Finny win at darts. That’s how Mandy knew Leo was the real deal—that even though Finny tried to pretend Leo was just a boy he was dating, there was more there.

Rafe and Sophie were good together, but Mandy wasn’t as sure about them. They’d likely be friends forever, but Mandy didn’t see Rafe as Sophie’s forever. Sophie wasn’t the kind of girl you could pin down that easily. She needed space to roam. She had too many adventures she still wanted to take. Only time would truly tell though.

The one thing Mandy knew for sure was that she was so grateful she had met them all. She had been a mess when she first got to London, and Sophie was damn near an angel for putting up with Mandy during those first few months. Sophie brought Mandy back to life and saved her. She had been the lantern Mandy needed in the dark cave she had curled herself into. Sophie was the light that led her out.

Mandy loved all of them so much. “I’m going to miss all of you!”

And the group squeezed together into one giant hug.

That night, Mandy slept in Sophie’s bed—too drunk to make it home. In the morning, Sophie helped her collect all her gifts—Crunchie bars, and Hobnobs, and Jaffa Cakes, and boxes of tea—and took Mandy back to the room she’d been staying in. Mandy’s head throbbed, and she chugged Lucozade—the British version of Gatorade—that had been left over from the night before like a dehydrated camel. She was never going to drink that much ever again.

Sophie was hungover too—not as badly as Mandy though—so she helped Mandy pack up the last of her things and picked her out the cutest outfit—because even if you didn’t feel good, you should look good, Sophie would always say. (She really was like Mom in a lot of ways.) They ate a greasy breakfast to help soak up the alcohol, and before either of them were ready, the taxi had pulled up to the curb.

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