Page 66 of Lesson Learned

“The one that’s been and gone?”

She gives him a pout. “When it’s such a milestone, I’m entitled to more of a birthday month, you know?”

“Right. Unfortunately, not a view the rest of us share.”

“But…”

“In fact,” he puts a finger to his chin, tilting his head like he’s thinking. “Didn’t you just get a big-arse trust fund?”

The faux argument fills in a few minutes. I check the time on my phone, stomach pinching with unease. It’s been close to ten minutes already.

“That’s your car,” Harrison says, pointing.

“Are they coming back?” Brooke asks, more rhetorical than a genuine question.

And I give the answer she must have worked out for herself. “Guess not.”

“Well, fuck her then. I tried.” She spins around and pats her boyfriend’s chest. “How’d you feel about escorting the two prettiest girls in school out on a double date?”

He sidles closer, slipping an arm around her waist, immediately on board. “Sounds good. Where’re we going?”

“Dunno.” She glances over to me. “It’s your birthday party. Where do you want to go?”

My eyes shift to look back along the corridor, willing my friend to reappear. Instead, my phone buzzes with a text.“Don’t wait for me. I’ll come out next time.”

And even though I expected it, the disappointment hits like a fist smashing into my chest. She’s right down the hallway but it might as well be on the face of the moon.

I can’t trust her enough to tell her about James, now. Not when her response might be to choose him over me.

Again.

“She bailed?”

I nod to Brooke. “She bailed. How about we try a mini pub crawl along the strip?” A nickname for one of the central city roads, opposite the Avon River. “No cover charge means more drinks.”

“Says the girl with the two-drink limit.”

“You’re not going to change?” I ask Harrison, who rolls his eyes.

“You’re right. I’m not.” He holds out both arms. “Shall we go?”

* * *

I have a good time.Harrison seems to know half the people out drinking and keeps introducing me to potential suitors with ever-more-elaborate descriptions, most of them extremely flattering. Guys come and guys go and Brooke and him keep the PDAs down to a minimum.

It’s nice. Better than I thought.

My chest hurts from laughing, my voice going rough from telling far too many jokes and inappropriate anecdotes. Brooke talks me into a tequila shot for the first time and, once I stop spluttering at the liquid fire, I swear it will be the last.

Harrison takes his job as escort seriously, always making sure our drinks are protected when we leave the table. Glaring at anyone who gets too close, even those who are clearly his friends.

By the time we bundle into a car home, I’m drunk, exhausted, and happy. I can’t wait to curl up in bed with my battery powered companion and think about Conner to round out my night.

I take the dress off, examining it for any spillage, any brushes against things it shouldn’t, only returning it to its garment bag once I’m certain it’s clean.

In my bed, in the long tee I wear as a nightdress, I think back over everything that happened during the day.

My insides are still molten from Conner’s generosity and his appreciative glances. I ache to think of him in his own bed, so close but so far from here. I screw my eyes shut and imagine walking there. Being met at the door, welcomed inside, into his home, into his bed.

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