Sparring Partners [18+]

Twenty Six: We're Not Friends Anymore

"Don't you all have an early lecture tomorrow?"

"And?" Sarah asked, turning back to look at me as we weaved through the other patrons of the pub. "It's 6pm Daisy, we're hardly having a rager."

"Sorry, how many times have you gone out for 'just a quick drink' and ended up at the flat absolutely steaming at 2am?"

"I'm not the one that's supposed to be up at five-thirty for work tomorrow morning. No one forced you to come Daisy- Oh, look, there's a booth over there." Sarah slapped her course-mate on the side of the arm, nudging her towards the back as she reached behind her to grab my hand and tow me behind. It was alarmingly busy on a Sunday night, and the likelihood of being separated was high.

There was a group of older men stood around drinking, and when we tried to walk through them they continued to stand exactly where they were, forcing us to squeeze through the tight gap of their bodies. Fucking disgusting.

A sharp tug on my hand from Sarah kept me moving forward, though. "Don't start an argument. They're too drunk," she warned, shooting a concerned glance over my head toward their loud, bellowed laughter. She was right, of course. It was too risky to confront so many intoxicated men. Nothing good would come of it.

Once we were finally sitting in a booth, I scanned the room, lip curling at the crowds of older men and drunk students. It was so loud and warm inside. My body ached, and my eyes felt heavy. I should have stayed home this evening, but I had been desperate to do something other than work, study, eat, and sleep. Thankfully, my company tonight was only a handful of Sarah's friends who I had all met before and liked well enough, and there would be no sign of the handsy guy I had endured the last time we were here.

"Hey. Isn't that the guy you're friends with?" One of Sarah's friends murmured to me, nodding across the room. I followed her eye-line to find Roman already staring straight at me. He had his hood pulled up over his head as he fixed me with a narrow-eyed stare, holding a glass of coke in front of him - that surely had vodka in it. A loud, sharp laugh burst from my lips as he slowly mouthed the word loser.

"What's so funny?" Sarah asked, looking up from her phone at me like she thought I was insane.

"Roman," I said, nodding my head in his direction. He was still looking, and I couldn't resist the urge to mouth the word slut back at him. Wedged beside Lynch, immersed in a group of large burly men, he cackled loudly, earning himself an array of strange looks.

Bitch, he mouthed, slowly giving me the middle finger.

Whore, I mouthed right back, only to realise that at least two other men were now looking my way, frowning. Oops.

"I'm gonna' go over and say hi."

"Okay, should we expect you back? Or are you going to be hanging out with your boyfriend all night?" Sarah asked, smirking.

Frowning, I uttered. "Roman's not my- Oh." Markus had appeared by the table, two drinks in hand, one of which he passed to Lynch. The other glass, his, appeared to be just water. He'd mentioned he was out tonight with his friends, but I had assumed they would be at The Swan, Andre and Alec's pub.

"Uh..."

"It's fine. I'll see you back at home," Sarah laughed.

"But I wanted to hang out with you guys."

Sarah shot me a disbelieving look. "Daisy, not a single part of me thinks you'll be coming back once you sit down over there. I'm not even certain you'll come back to the flat tonight. How many times have you stayed at Markus' now, you dirty little horn bag?"