Page 38 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
‘Post it yourself actually!’ instructed Drunk Stephen, shoving the phone back at me. ‘Manifest. I’m busy.’
I checked the photo. Drunk Stephen was right. It did look good: the neon lights in the industrial space, the blurred movement of arms raised, and in the centre: me, Drunk Stephen and the unbelievably hot guy. To be fair, all three of us looked unbelievably hot. Maybe I could manifest the kind of life other people wanted. I clicked post.
Suddenly, the neon lights disappeared, plunging the room into darkness. A single strobe picked out fragments of smoke and the crowd roared in anticipation: the main act was starting…
Seven to ten tequilas, and one countdown to the new year later, I was having such a good time that I hadn’t even checked my phone for ages, and when I did, there were not just one, but three DMs from Charlotte to me. She’d liked the photo I posted, saying,OMG. Love. Love. LOVE!
The next one said:How did you get in?! Wanna be there! Can I come to next one?
And the last message just hadLST STPand three fire emojis.
‘Stephen!’ I hollered over the music. ‘Stephen!’
Drunk Stephen temporarily turned away from New Steven (unbelievably hot guy). ‘What?’
‘Your idea – it worked. I manifested! Charlotte asked if she can come next time—’
‘No,’ said Drunk Stephen. ‘Too little too late.’
‘Andshe obviously wants to shag the band – she’s put three fire emojis!’
‘Again. Not a band!’
‘Sorry. She wants to shag the DJ.’
‘Of course she does,’ said Drunk Stephen. ‘He is objectively super hot. Not as gorgeous as you obviously,’ he said quickly to New Steven before returning his attention to me. ‘Hey, Alice, you know what you should do?’
‘What?’
‘Get a selfie right up next to the booth. That will make Charlotte jealous.’
Drunk Stephen resumed dancing with New Steven but I was seeking out the booth, a shadow of an island obscured by a dark sea of heaving bodies, and having a genius, tequila-worm idea. I knew what would make Charlotte properly jealous.
‘Stephen!’ I tugged at his arm. ‘Stephen. Which one is he?’
‘Who?’ said Drunk Stephen, still dancing.
‘L, S, T, um, S, T, P?’
‘You don’t spell it out, Grandma,’ he hissed, checking no one had overheard. ‘It’s just Last Stop.’
‘Oh! Okay. So which one is the vowel hater?’
‘Seriously?’ Drunk Stephen shook his head. ‘Who do youthink he is? He’s the one at the decks with the headphones! Making the floor shake?’
I peered through arms and heads in the dimly lit space and eventually the strobe momentarily highlighted the hunched figure of a guy with headphones, standing in a booth.
‘That’s LaST SToP? He doesn’t seem all that to me?’
New Steven laughed. ‘Babe, I think two million followers would disagree with you on that point!’
‘No, I mean he doesn’t look particularly fit,’ I explained. ‘From his silhouette.’
Drunk Stephen rolled his eyes. ‘Alice. He turned downLove Islandyou know.’
‘Fine. In that case, wish me luck: I’m going in.’
‘What?!’ said Drunk Stephen and New Steven together.
