Page 133 of Someone Like You

And the most surprising thing is not the eruption of whoops from inebriated wedding guests around us, nor the, ‘You go, girl,’ Issy shouts across the room, nor the blood rushing in my ears.

The most surprising thing is that Raff kisses me back.

32

GABY

I wake early the next morning – well before dawn, lying on my back as my eyes adjust to the dim light. Issy is snoring softly beside me, which happens when she drinks.

What the actual fuck did I do last night?

I try to catch hold of the moments leading up to me kissing Raff in the middle of the dancefloor – and him kissing me back – but they elude me. All that materialises are some static snapshots and blurry movement, like something out of a Christopher Nolan movie.

I kissed Raff.

And Raff kissed me back.

That is, until he came to his senses and sprang apart from me, staring at me wild-eyed, his mouth working but no sound coming out.

At some point in all that, Heidi left in a huff. Well, the room, not the wedding. By that time, there was a huge line for rides home with the snow chain brigade, which was being managed by Dad’s friend, Dave, while he ate three pieces of wedding cake.

Issy snuffles and rolls onto her side, and I return to the here and now. Oh right, it’s Christmas.

Merry fucking Christmas, Gaby.

How the hell am I supposed to face him? Or anyone in my family?

Here I am protesting from the mountain tops – well, from the top of Queen Anne hill – that Raff and I are just friends, and then I go and kiss him in front of everyone. At a wedding! At least I didn’t catch the bouquet. That was Heidi. Frigging Heidi.

‘What?’ asks Issy, rolling over and squinting at me in the dim light.

Shit, I must have said that last part out loud.

‘Nothing, go back to sleep.’

She props herself up, elbow on the mattress, cheek in her hand. ‘I’m awake. Spill.’

With a sigh, I throw one arm over my head, colliding with the bed frame. ‘Ow!’ I whisper. ‘Motherfucker.’

‘Are you okay?’

I shake out my hand. ‘Yeah – it stings though.’

‘Yeah, I didn’t mean your hand, you dork. I mean areyouokay? About you and Raff?’

I look over and she’s wearing her big-sister face. I miss that face. I miss Issy. Not right at this moment – because she’s here – but there is something to be said for sisterly love. It’s like bestie love on steroids.

‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’ I retort.

‘So, we’re both a mess.’

I snigger. ‘You’re the mess. I’m just a little untidy.’

‘Yeah, yeah…’

‘You can talk to me, you know. All this shit with Raff aside, I’m, like, a real grown-up. I know stuff.’

‘Like what stuff?’ She gives me a dramatic side-eye, which I’m sure is supposed to make me laugh, but enough joking around.

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