"Are you enjoying the party?" I asked Hugh, opening yet another drink. Hugh noticed, a small smile gracing his face.
"I am. You're enjoying it a lot more, though."
"Am I?" I spoke, taking a sip. "I am." I admitted, grimacing.
"Is there any left?" Hugh asked, nodding towards my can. I looked at the table and was shook - there was no drink!
"No!" I shrieked, a flurry of nerves coming over me. My main priority had been ensuring there was enough drink and we'd run out. "I'll have to go get some." I handed him my drink and grabbed Josh's jacket from the chair next to the table. "Hold the fort, Hugh. I will return."
"Are you sure you should go alone?" He called after me.
"I'll be fine!" I called back, "I just need to piss."
I opened the toilet door and walked in, shutting it behind me. I leaned on it and sighed, shutting my eyes. I was breathless from all the movement, whether it be running or dancing. It was still exercise and that I did not enjoy.
"Jesus, Matilda!" Jeremy's voice boomed. I opened my eyes and saw him standing, well no, urinating. I hadn't realised he was in here as I entered, my mouth a little agape at his sudden appearance.
"I didn't see you there, Jeremy." I spoke, looking at the wall. I couldn't make eye contact, nor could I look anywhere else. "What are you doing in here?"
"What do you think?!" He seethed, zipping his trousers up. "What are you?!"
"I wanted to pee before I went out for more drink." I admitted.
"More?" He chuckled. "I can always say yes to that."
"Sorry." I apologised, shooting him a sheepish smile. He nodded, affirming that it was fine. "Then let me pee," I said, sitting on the toilet. "And we can go get it."
Jeremy — clearly as intoxicated as I — took a seat on the bench and folded his arms.
"Revenge." He stated. I groaned and avoided eye contact as I did my business, hurriedly washing my hands and opening the door.
"Come on then." I taunted. He chuckled and got up, walking past me and out of the door. I followed, shutting it behind me. I looked to Josh, making eye contact. He shot me a questionable look; he'd watched Jeremy and I exit the toilet. Before I could say anything to him, Jeremy snatched my hand and pulled me out the flat, shutting the door behind us.
"Do you want to be there before it shuts?" He spoke, emphasising the hurry we were in.
"It's open twenty four hours a day, Jeremy." I bluntly said. Jeremy made an 'O' shape with his mouth, taking in this information, though we both knew he was so drunk he wouldn't remember it in the morning.
We made it out the flat quickly. I skipped down the road, my heels clicking every so often. We entered the shop, grabbing what we needed and quickly paying for it. It wasn't so hard to do, even when drunk.
Jeremy and I exited the shop and made it halfway down the street before I stopped, placing the bags and fiddling with my heel.
"What is it?" He asked, a small slur in his voice.
"My feet hurt." I pouted, taking my shoes off. "I can't walk with these bloody things."
"Get the bags." He said, putting his down. I rolled my eyes and did as he said, eyeing him.
"I'm a Princess, not your fucking maid."
"Is there a difference?" Jeremy grinned, making light of my position, before scooping me up in his arms. I held onto him — and the bags — for dear life. I didn't wish to spill drink and I didn't wish to go face first into the concrete; both would be bad ends to what was turning out to be an exciting night.
