Lonely and Tired

Mosh Pit of Lust

I was lurking. It couldn't be helped. Well it could but I didn't want to do anything other than lurk; if you define lurking as reclining on a sun lounge in the darkest part of Val and Matt's patio. I curled my fingers around my glass of Pinot Grigio and lifted it to my lips. It was a good party, everyone seemed to be having a good time except me. I was pretending to have a good time and for the most part I even had myself convinced. If anyone asked I had occupied the sun lounger because my stupid spike heeled boots hurt my feet. In reality I just wanted to...lurk.

My parents were chatting in a group that included Brian's and, I squinted through the dark and the potted palms surrounding my hiding spot, Matt's parents. They were all laughing. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Why did they all have to get along? Mum and Dad had loathed Eli's family, not that they'd ever said anything but I knew them well enough to know exactly how my parents behaved around people they liked and when they were putting on an act to be polite. My mother was good, she could have changed her name to Meryl Streep, but she wasn't good enough to fool me. I could always tell, and I could tell she liked the people at this party.

Just my fucking luck. My family gets on with the guy I'm in love with. And his family. And his friends. And his friends' families. And probably his dog as well if they met her. But does he love me back and want to be with me?

Noooooo. No, he does not. My life was like a country song and not one of those happy drinking beers around a camp fire with my buddies and my best girl type of country songs. No it was one of those my wife left me, I'm sleeping under a bridge and my dog died kind of country songs.

Was I feeling sorry for myself? Yes, yes I was. Was I going to take a brief moment to wallow? Yes I was. Being a beautiful butterfly capable of driving men, or one man in particular, wild with longing was tiring work and I needed a break. I'd chatted and laughed and pretended that all was great in Steph land for hours. I'd suggested dream holidays and bucket list destinations. I'd promised Kelly and Brooks a day out on my parent's boat. I'd even been bailed up by a couple of Adam Kentish fan boys asking about his Winter Olympics plans. Newsflash. He wasn't going.

I had pressed the flesh and played nice. So I was just...lurking.

I took another sip of wine and closed my eyes with a satisfied hum, Val really did have a talent for picking the good wine. I startled as my feet were shoved to one side and someone sat down on the end of my sun lounge.

"Hey!" I exclaimed in protest and then blinked a couple of times in disbelief. There, sat on the end of the sun lounge, was Brian a beer bottle dangling from his elegant fingers.

"They're having fun," he said nodding in the direction of my parents. What the fuck? Were we doing this? That thing where you act like all the shit and drama that has gone down in the past was just a bad dream? That was not the response that one expected, nay demanded, when a sweater made of kittens was worn into the battle of the sexes. I'd expected a bit more grovelling, maybe a tearful apology, hell a desperate plea to still be friends would not have gone astray at that moment. The pretence that we were best buds and all was well with the world? What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?

"Yeah, they look to be," I answered lamely wishing he'd give me a clue as to why he'd joined me to torture me with his hotness. The plan was for the reverse. I was supposed to be the one doing the torturing.

"I didn't recognise them from King's funeral. They looked...different." He dropped his hand on to my ankle and I barely suppressed a shiver. It felt like the warmth of his hand was burning through the leather of my boot.

"Well grief will do that to you," I bit out. It had taken my parents a long time to get over Ryan's death.

"Tell me about it." His eyes gleamed at me through the darkness. Shit. Sometimes I forgot that Brian had his own experience of grief. I sat up and pressed my hand over his.