Page 51 of The Likelihood Of You

After a few beats of quietness, I glanced over to Addy in the reflection of the mirror, and she was gawking at me from the sofa. But not like she was before. This time there was concern highlighted all over her face.

“You okay over there?” I asked her through the mirror.

She looked down at her hands for a couple of seconds, and brushed a rogue curl behind her ear before making eye contact with me again. “I’m just thinking about what you told me last week, about how you ended up here.” I froze. “It just shocks me that someone as amazing as you can ever be half-loved by someone.”

I turned on my heels and faced her again, letting a hazy smile rest on my face.

“Thank you.”

“He’s been worried about you, you know? Jacob. Ever since he took you to Pin’s.” She stood up from her seat and walked towards me, stopping just in front of my heeled feet. “Maybe talk to him tonight. I’m pretty sure he has no nails left from chewing them off out of worry these last few weeks. Just let him know you’re okay.” She finished her words with a smile. I nodded, and her hand flew to tuck a curl behind my ear. “I’m only saying this because I’ve known that boy long enough to know the way he feels about you will never amount to only half of his heart.” She catches another tear. “He’s different.”

Knowing that my silence has made someone worried breaks my heart, more so when I take in that that someone is Jacob; a man who has done nothing to deserve such torment. I felt comforted that he cared, and that I was on his mind, but not enough to take away how stupid I felt for distancing us.

“No tears, honey. Tonight, we celebrate not having to see Wes for at least six months, until the premiere.” She put both of her hands on my shoulders in a reassuring grip. “Okay, soldier?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I brought my hand to my head and gave her a quick salute.

“Right, let’s go get drunk.”

Chapter nineteen

Florence

Addy and I got to Nate’s apartment half an hour later than we were supposed to, which had nothing to do with being fashionably late. It turns out we were both quite bad timekeepers and don’t make good party guests. Sure, we have all the blister plasters, tampons and lip gloss flavours in our purses, but can we stick to a schedule? We absolutely can’t.

To soften the blow, we stopped at a local liquor store on the way over and picked up a few bottles that would last us the night.

I’ve never been a big drinker, apart from that one Christmas where I had one too many tequila shots, it certainly wasn’t my chosen pastime.

Saying that, whilst I was getting ready and pacing the living room floor so much that I left smokey tire marks, I’d worked up a craving for one cocktail in particular, a certain Italian beverage that, since my girl’s trip to Rome one summer during uni, I’d not stopped dreaming about. And luckily, as we were pursuing the fluorescent-lit aisles, my eyes locked onto the glowing orange bottle sitting lonesome on oneof the dusty shelves. Addy had quizzed me on what it was, and when I described it as drinking the nectar of the Gods, she dragged me to the cashier to pay.

As we approached the door, Addy knocked as best she could with the bag of oranges and rosemary in her hand (it wasn’t an Aperol Spritz without oranges and rosemary), and it swung open a second later.

“Well, well…if it isn’t my favourite ladies!” Nate laughed, clearly a few drinks deep already, but not so sloppy that we knew the night would end quicker than we thought. “Come in, come in.”

Addy and I both passed each other sceptical looks, purely because seeing Nate’s smile beam was concerning, especially for a man who used a tiny smirk to show his excitement. But he was merry, and that was all we cared about.

“Thanks, Nate!” I squeaked, because the second my eyes adjusted to the sight of his small kingdom of an apartment, I could barely breathe.

Nate took the bags from Addy as we stumbled from the entryway and into the living area, where he placed the bags on a glass coffee table that sat in the centre of two luxurious green sofas, overlooking a skyline view of the city, similar to Jacobs.

Running his name through my head made me wobble, and I hadn’t even had any alcohol yet, which reminded me.

“Hey, Nate?” I shouted over my shoulder, before turning to find Nate and Addy talking, like functioning adults with no angst between them, before both heads shot to face me. “Where’s your kitchen? I’ll whip us up some cocktails.”

“Oh, sure… just through that door, the second door on the right.” He said with a hazy smile.

“Thanks.”

I found the kitchen, and my breath was stolen for the second time tonight, when my eyes locked on to the smorgasbord of party food across the dark wood island, enough to feed a small village.

I rounded the island, set my bottles down on the counter, and began hunting for some glasses. In no time, I whipped up three of them, each with a hearty orange slice and slender rosemary sprig plunged into them, and I readied myself to grab the glasses by the stems and transport them back to the others without spilling a drop, when I felt my joints lock into place, and freeze.

“Only three?” Jacob whispered. “Are you trying to break my heart, Flo?”

The exposed hairs on my neck stood to attention, as an army of shivers marched down my spine. His sneak attack seemed to glue my feet to the floor, and my voice became lost. And I wondered to myself, had it always been this difficult to be near him? Or was I the one making things difficult?

My neck eventually creaked around and upward to see him, my eyes finding his, and every memory I’d been avoiding came flooding back. Him falling, me landing on top of him, him drying my tears, the kiss, his hands on my thighs. I dropped my head to squeeze my eyes shut, so he wouldn’t notice, then snapping it back up to face him, fake smile at the ready.

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