Author's Note - I would like to apologizes for not updating this sooner. I never had the intention of taking as long as it has to update.
I would like to thank those that reviewed. I forgot how good it felt when some reviews.
I do not own Skins.
Chapter Two: All Those Friendly People
This is where I stood. The inevitable thought process racing though my head at all possible outcomes that could play out or vanish as quickly as they came. The wedding would only consist of three days, how life changing could it possible be?
The train ride to London from Bristol was agonizing. I couldn't help but think back to the slight reminders of how many times Emily and I escaped to the big city. How many times we distracted each other enough to get lost in hot pants and breathlessness in the booths of the trains. Probably even on this train.
Cook had decided it would be a wonderful idea to come down a day early to get plastered before the wedding at two o'clock the following day. Something about it being more tolerable and less awkward hung over.
We arrived at the hotel room and checked in. The receptionist gave us the key card and informed us that our roommates hadn't checked in yet. Yeah the Fitches wedding provided roommates to those who were only twosomes. My nervous were shot each time I thought of the possibilities of who would be in our room.
The semi-large room held two queen size beds. Cook quickly threw his bag on the bed closest to the large, wall-eating window.
"All about the architecture babe." He put his hands in his pockets and moved towards the window. "She's a beaut." He leaned against the window breathing in the miles of building and hurried life on the streets.
"Cook," I placed my bag on the ground and walked towards him and the window. It was beautiful with the mid day sun beaming off of the rooftops. "Who do you think our mates are?"
The hotel room was quiet. Cook and I just stared at each other for a while then flicked on the television when boredom rose. Neither Cook nor me wanted to talk about the wedding, and the likely hood of running into both of our exes.
I could tell that a part of him was excited at the idea of running into Effy. He didn't say it often, but occasionally when he was being the old Cook, her name would be thrown around. Effy this, remember when Effy and us, or Effy was a great fuck. Cook wanted to be here just as much as I did.
The more I thought about he situation, the more I was becoming aware of the awkwardness. Coming to Katie Fitch's wedding did cause me anxiety. Lots of anxiety. I Could only imagine what it was doing to him.
There was no way I would be able to go up to Emily and be all giddy and polite. I could already tell that my body was going to betray me the moment I saw her.
I really hadn't come as far as I thought I had in four years.
"I'm hungry love, you wanna grab a bite?" Cook lifted his head off the pillow and propped himself up on an elbow awaiting my reply. I nodded, although a part of me wanted to say no. I wasn't ready to leave the safe confinement of the room, what if I ran into her. What if I ran into her sober?
I looked into the large mirror in the bathroom. My long black jeggings hugged my legs and arse the way they did when I brought them in that boutique. The white tank top flowed loosely off my breasts. My gold watch on my wrist alerted me that it was only 1036pm. "Jesus," the night was dragging on already. "Where the fuck are we going to anyway?" I sighed loudly and Cook looked dumbfounded a bit, before he looked me up and down.
"Just a small place, Uncle Keith told about it. He use to hit it up there ages ago. " Cook laughed at my eye roll. "Naomkins, it's gonna be a banging time. You are with the Cookie Monster after all love, and I know how to party." He got up off the bed and flicked the television off. "Look, I'll go down to the bar, get the tequila ready, it's going to be a good night. Trust me." Trust me, the words made my stomach turn as he walked out the door.
A half hour later, I had my accessories on along with make up. Cook had two shots waiting on the bar. When I went down to meet him. "Just two?" I smiled at him and he waved the bartender over again.
The tequila burned slightly on the way down. It jumped started my body and I fought off the shiver. "To a fuck of a good night." Cook took a shot and placed the empty shot glass on the table.
I grabbed on to his arm. We both grabbed the remaining tequila shots and tilted our heads back. "I'll follow you to this dive on one condition," I waited until I got a sign that he was listening. "We don't get mental." His smile deflated a bit but quickly reappeared. I second-guessed saying it and sounding like a fucking wanker, we both knew that after four shots of tequila, I was gonna be at the mercy of Captain Cook and his influences.
It was a fifteen-minute straight shot of a walk to the club. At least there was no way we were going to get lost in a ditch or down a dark alley. I repeated the way back to myself and turned to see if I could see the hotel from here. Fuck Naomi you're not mental.
The club had a small line outdoors. The House music was pumping out of the open doors. What I could hear of it was rather decent. This was going to be a good night after all.
It was getting harder and harder to navigate throughout the two-story bar. The balcony above the dance floor was crowded with tossers looking down at the girls on the dance floor. Cook grabbed a hold of my arm and pushed our way through the dance floor to the bar. He ordered another two rounds of tequila and pint each. Years going out together we learned the quickest way of get plastered without feeling it too much in the morning. We did the tequila shots and grabbed our pints. He moved us to the back of the club and pulled out Keith's special blend. He stuck his finger in and sniffed and I did the same. He smiled as he closed the bag and clinked our glasses.
I sat down in the booth closest to us and allowed the bass from the speakers wash over my body. Ten minutes later I felt the effects of the tequila and blend. I chugged the rest of my pint. "See you in a bit." I gave Cook a peck on the cheek and moved towards the dance floor.
I looked around at the people around me before just dancing by myself. It wasn't long until a few girls allowed me to join them, even shorter before the douchebags from the balcony were dancing with us.
I mouthed the words to the song and allowed it to finish before I bailed on the very heterosexual group. I decided it would be a good time to grab another refreshment and move towards the back of the club, to the booth that I had left Cook at. Hopefully it was vacant.
I moved through the crowd easier than I did when Cook was guiding me. The booth was occupied by a rather large group of female recipients. I smiled as I checked them out. It was definitely some kind of party that only they were aware of. Several of them had the ever evolving bitch face on, high eyebrows, cold stares, and smiles like Medusa. A couple of the ladies were just wearing the awkward full tooth smile, pretending something was funny clearly out of their comfort zone.
I took a sip of the pint in my hand and looked back at them with every intention of taking one last glance and turning back towards the dance floor. I snapped a mental imagine in hopes that I'll remember and search for the quieter ones later.
I turned as I took a gulp of the pint this time. There was nothing worst then having to hold on to a drink while in a club, except maybe sobering up.
My pint hit the ground as I caught a glimpse of familiar red hair. 'Fucking fuck fuck,' I gave an apologetic smile to those that noticed they just got hit with beer. 'Where the fuck did she go?' I cursed myself for not rushing towards the red hair first.
"Good job Naom's, grade A there." I rubbed my eyes and cursed myself a bit more.
