Please, Miss (GirlxGirl) ✔️

23 | the non-party

By the time Friday slithered around, I'd spend another two lunchtimes with Harriet. On Wednesday, she'd come and sat with Clarice, Megan and I in the dining hall once again. I hadn't invited her—none of us had—but she seemed to hold an air of confidence around her, as though she could do exactly as she pleased. She wasn't the type of girl to need an invitation. It was almost a turn on. On Thursday, she'd asked me to walk with her, and despite the bitter cold of mid-January, we strolled outside around the school grounds for the whole lunch hour. Harriet was actually interesting, and the more we spoke, the more I liked learning about her. She was definitely a distraction in the hours we spent together, but in her absence, my thoughts trailed inevitably back to Alex.

In her classes, I tried to remain as civil as possible, just as I'd told her I would, but that didn't come without great difficulty. I wanted to scream at her, to tell her she was a horrible person for breaking my heart, but somehow, I didn't. I greeted her with a small smile, I answered her questions on the rare occasions that she'd ask me any, and overall, I'd be a decent human being. Despite how much she'd hurt me, I knew she didn't intend to, and I didn't want to leave things on bad terms.

I tried to remind myself that there were plenty more fish in the sea—7.2 billion, to be exact. There was no way that you could just love one person, surely. Eventually, I'd move on, I'd love someone again, and maybe I would look back at myself and laugh at how undeniably pathetic I was being. But that time seemed lightyears away, and I yearned for this constant ache in the centre of my ribs to be done with.

"Shall we go?" Megan interrupted my train of thought, rerouting me onto safer tracks as she stood from her bed, running her fingers through her hair.

I nodded, standing and readjusting my black denim skirt. As if on cue, Clarice knocked at the door, calling both our names in an impatient tone.

"You're late," she arched her eyebrows as we headed out into the hall. "Come on, I want a drink before it's all gone." Clarice hurried us out of Nightingale wing and along the corridor towards the common room.

It was eight in the evening, so most of the teachers were inside their own rooms. At the weekends, I'd been told, the common room was open until eleven, and teachers rarely checked in, so long as it wasn't too noisy.

As we made our way inside, we were met with a small crowd of girls, some of whom I recognised, most of whom I didn't. Music pulsated through the room, loud enough to feel like a party, but not at too high a volume that one of the teachers would call us out on it. The lights were dim but fake candles were dotted on tables, creating a cosy glow. I'd only been in here a few times, but never in the evenings, and I had to admit, I actually quite liked it. Black beanbags covered the floor in the far right corner, and in the left, a leather sofa. A foosball table was beside me, currently occupied by some seemingly competitive players, who appeared to be on the verge of a heated argument about whether that last goal counted. More chairs and tables were dotted across the room, most of them already vacated by girls.

"Hello, stranger," appeared a familiar voice beside my ear, and I turned to see Harriet beside me, a plastic red cup in her hand. "Thought you weren't coming?"

I smirked. "Had to come and see just how pathetic this little social gathering could get. I think it might be lacking a little bit of meat, if you catch my drift," I replied, referring to the obvious absence of male company in the room. That was the problem with being at an all-girls school: sometimes I missed being able to talk to a guy.