After You

chapter twelve

An afternoon nap plus gulping down multiple glasses of water cures my hangover in time for tonight. Although my movements are languid and slow, I can somewhat function like a normal human being.

And it's in that moment where I can also think like a human being, and I shout to Liv from my bedroom, "Do I have to bring a present!?"

"Nope! It's all sorted!"

I've always felt the shower after a night out is the best – and the one I took earlier was no different.

The dress code for tonight is more fancy and elegant than what I'm used to, but thankfully I've got a couple of dresses that I can wear that won't make me feel subpar.

It's been a long time since I've made a proper effort to look good, so I break out the curler and curl my long hair into dark ringlets, pinning sections near the front back using gold bobby pins, and I give myself a subtle smoky eye – thanks Gigi Hadid at the 2018 MET Gala for the inspiration! – and use a nude shade of lipstick on my lips. I choose a silk, pale pink dress with a navy floral pattern that has a v-shaped neckline and fitted bust, and it cinches at the waist before becoming a draped skirt that skims the floor in bare feet, but exposes my heels when I put them on. The thin straps over my shoulders come together to lace up at the back.

I knew I was going to wear this dress from the outset, so most of my time getting ready is spent doing my hair and makeup. And by the time it's ready to go, I'm actually ready to go.

Liv wears a navy, satin, off-the-shoulder dress with a fitted waist, and a full skirt that is short at the front but longer at the back; the inside of the skirt has a floral pattern in pink, the opposite to the pattern of my dress. Her heels are navy and pink to match.

Her long, blonde hair has been straightened and pulled into a sleek, high ponytail atop her head. She wears a bold, pink lip, and has mastered the winged eyeliner: her muted pink eyeshadow twinkles whenever she moves beneath the lights. Similar, but different. But similar enough for people to think that we coordinated our outfits to match, when in fact we didn't. If we get separated, maybe it'll help us find one another.

Liv has organised for a cab to pick us up just after 8pm. We pile into the back seat, hefting our skirts, and sit awkwardly for the forty or so minute drive out of the city to our destination.

I haven't had a drop of alcohol so I'm going to be socially awkward until I can get my hands on some; I really just don't know how to make small talk with people I don't know.

Liv doesn't usually keep a lot of things from me, but I know she did so deliberately in regards to our destination: the cab pulls up in front of a wrought-iron gate that we have to wait to open. Lamps flank the long, concrete driveway that meanders through incredibly large and manicured grounds, with the hedges clipped into varying shapes and sizes.

"Liv," I whisper as I lean over to her. I can't tear my eyes away from outside, not wanting to miss anything.

"He went to college with Dyl," she says, answering my unspoken question without really explaining anything.

"Is that why you've brought me along?" I ask. I feel inadequate enough as it is. As long as questions don't get asked about me or directed at me, it's easier to pretend to be someone I'm not. I mean, that's near-impossible anyway considering where I am and people I will undoubtedly mingle with, but still. Friends do what they gotta do.

The house – mansion – is huge. I wouldn't be surprised if the owner was Tahani Al-Jamil from The Good Place.

Our cab nears the front of the mansion, coming to almost a standstill behind the line of cars before us. Once we stop at the bottom of the stone stairs that lead to the front doors, we pay our driver and get out in a blur of navy and pink fabric.

Liv hands me something as we make our way to the front doors; an invitation, addressed to her and Dylan. Oh well, it's not like I've ever not been someone's plus 1 or third wheel.

Unlike the music at Josie's that was so loud it was headache-inducing and you could feel the bass beneath your feet, the music pouring from the open windows and doors is subdued and quite easy to miss. At first I thought I was hearing things, imagining I could hear Bryan Adams below the thrum of conversation, but nope, there's Summer of '69.

The doorman checks the invitations but does not question my being here. He simply inclines his head and sweeps his arm in the direction of inside.

The foyer is as I expected, grand and elegant. The floor and sweeping staircase is polished marble, a glass chandelier hangs high above, turning the white walls into an array of colours; I half expect Kylie Jenner to descend the stairs to welcome us to her party.

I spy a waiter with flutes of champagne. Grabbing Liv by the arm, I manoeuvre her in his direction before she can get distracted by anything else.

Champagne in hand, Liv leads me from the room towards the back where the large dining area – which I'm pretty sure is almost as big as our entire apartment – opens up onto an undercover area beyond. I spy a pool so blue that it's reminds me of the ocean.

It's hard to ascertain how many people are here, but I think it's probably upwards of eighty. The men all wear suits is varying styles and colours, and the women wear dresses in floral designs, satin, silk, above the knee, off-the-shoulder, plunging necklines, strapless, floor-length. This one lady wears a strapless, floor-length gown covered almost entirely in sequins and all I can think is how itchy her armpits must be.

There are four men talking animatedly outside, and that is where Liv takes us. She must recognise one or more of them. I certainly recognise one of them, and I squeeze Liv's arm and pull her to a stop. She looks at me questioningly.

"What?" she asks.

"I'm not going over there," I say.

She looks at the men then back at me. "Why? Dean's over there. You know, the reason why we're here in the first place."

Well, I didn't know that because I've never met Dean before nor do I know what he looks like. But I do know what Kyle Ward looks like.

"One of those guys over there – Kyle – he's the guy from yesterday. You know, who bumped into me and made me spill my coffee? Who held me up last night at the bar?"

Liv takes another look. "Ohhhhhh." Then she's smirking at me, and she increases the pressure on my arm so that I can't escape as she proceeds to march me in Kyle's direction.