Good Luck Anna

Interrogation

Saturday is my 16th birthday meal, Alex asked me repeatedly if I wanted a party but the idea of having to pretend to be happy around a big group of people sounds like total torture, so we settled for a meal at my favourite Chinese restaurant.

Which is why currently Becca, Thomas and I are crammed into my tiny box room. Becca's still roaming around in a pink velour jogger suit her masses of blonde hair plopped on her head in huge foam rollers.

She has been giving Thomas the third degree - like a father with a new boyfriend- since we all met at the train station. Thomas has taken it all in his stride, answering every ridiculous question thrown his way. He didn't even roll his eyes when Becca insisted that our star signs were incompatible. The man is a Saint.

Becca excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving Thomas and me alone for the first time all afternoon. His eyes sparkle lighting up his whole face, strands of that unruly inky hair flops onto his forehead making me feel all sorts of heat in my stomach but it's the fitted black shirt with the top two buttons open and sleeves rolled up to the elbows that has me desperately needing a cold shower.

He is without a doubt one of the most beautiful men I've ever met but I seem to keep forgetting that he is only my friend. Allowing myself a last once over of the god before me. Determined to bottle these weird emotions that explode to life around him, I try to focus on being a good friend.

My gaze must have lingered on his arms for too long as when I make it back to his face he is grinning like a fool. "Like what you see?"

I huff turning my flaming face away from him. Thank goodness Becca slapped a truckload of make up on me or I would undoubtedly resemble a tomato right now.

Picking up the half bottle of vodka I pour myself another drink then offer it to a still chuckling Thomas, the temptation to just chuck it over him instead is high.

When I'd reluctantly agreed to this dinner, I also requested alcohol, which Edward instantly refused -he is quite the law-abiding citizen- but my brother nodded behind his back.

Like most British teenagers Alex and I have been going to parties and drinking for years, rich kids always throw the wildest parties. I have a theory that they are so controlled and pushed to be the best in all other aspects of life that they have a lot of steam that needs blown off or they'd combust.

So when I woke this morning to the Vodka and note of,

Don't get too pissed or Ed will have my head.

I couldn't help but feel a little more at ease with what today will entail.

Becca strolls back in flopping down on my bed while grumbling, "Alex sure is taking his time."

He was already away to the gym when I dragged myself from bed and thanks to Becca having the memory like a sieve she forgot hairspray, I had asked Alex to get some on his way home assuming that he would be back fairly soon but that was four hours ago and there is still no sign of him.

"Wait, so do you know the Romanov brothers? We are hoping to score invites to the annual masquerade party." Becca buzzes next to me.

We have no hope of getting invited unless one of us gets down on our knees for the famously cruel Nikolai, I am in no way desperate enough to waste a night surrounded by outrageously wealthy arseholes and the obscene debauchery that putting on a mask seems to awaken in them.

"Yeah, I know Mikhail but trust me Becca those parties are over hyped and not remotely safe for either of you." Becca huffs in response but the hard look in his eyes just confirms that my desire to be at that party is zero.