Chapter 2

There's something quite fascinating about the way he smokes a joint. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I enjoy watching. The way he's leant casually against the wall, his face tilted up to the sky, eyes half closed; it captivates me. He's been silent for ten minutes. I prefer it when he's silent. When he's silent it means I don't have to talk back, don't have to rack my brain for a reply that wouldn't make me sound like an idiot, and I rather love that.

With a soft sigh, I join him against the wall and close my eyes, leaning back on the foot I prop up against the bricks. The thumping bass of dance music surrounds us. I'm itching to get in there. Normally I would have been straight inside, but Tony had insisted he needed a smoke before he went anywhere near a dance floor and I wasn't about to argue with him.

He nudges me in the ribs and I open an eye, glancing in his direction to find him offering me his joint. I take it, my head tipping back as I take a drag and stare up at the sky. It's a beautiful night actually, with the moon prominent in the darkness and barely a cloud in sight. But it's cold and I want to head into the club. As I exhale slowly, we're momentarily surrounded by a small cloud of smoke and it stings my eyes. I snap them shut and bite down on my lip, drawing blood. The bitter taste of iron fills my mouth and it's an effort not to gag. But then Tony distracts me, moving to stand in front of me instead, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

'How much cash do you have?' he asks me, taking the rollup back so that he can finish it off and then flicks the butt aside. He casually brushes ash from his shoulder, his motions so fluid, before fixing his eyes upon me again. 'Maxxie?'

Had I been staring at him? I don't know. Shrugging my shoulders I check my pockets, coming up with a twenty pound note and a few loose coins. Not much then. 'Sorry, Tone,' I offer, pushing off from the wall and slipping the money into my back pocket once more.

Tony stops me from getting any further, shoving me back into the wall with force and smiling slyly. Without any immediate warning, he leans in, pressing his lips into mine and holding my arms so tightly that I can feel his nails cutting into my skin. I don't want this. This is the last thing I want right now, fucking Tony fucking me around again. But his kiss feels different tonight, there's an edge of softness along with his desperation. It's nice. I hate myself for enjoying it.

Pressing my hands against his chest, I reluctantly push away. 'Fucking hell, Tony,' I mutter and I'm cursing myself for not even attempting to sound annoyed with him. 'Stop messing around.'

Shaking his head and emitting a soft chuckle, he lets his gaze drift downwards and I realise that I'm gripping onto the front of his shirt. He won't be going anywhere any time soon if I have anything to do with it. Guiltily I let go and look away, avoiding his gaze. 'Meet me inside, yeah?' he says after a short silence.

He flashes me another smile; it's one of those cheeky little grins and my stomach involuntarily ties itself into knots. Why does he always do this to me when we're sleeping in the same room? I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me. Sometimes he has a kind of hunger in his eyes when he looks at me. I'm not blind, I have noticed. It's been there ever since Russia, almost as though the entire experience has brought something inside him to life.

But maybe Michelle's right, maybe I am a slut, I encourage him even though I know it's wrong. I'll gladly let him do what he wants with me because, well, I like it. I shouldn't though. Deep down all Tony is doing is settling for second best. He pays me all this attention because he's bored and lonely, and I know I piss him off. He's not all that keen on my honesty. At least, I don't think he is.

Tony's gradually consuming my entire world, but there is no fucking way I'll ever tell him that. I can't be a slut for following my instincts though, right? Tony's a bastard, a tosser, a complete wanker, yet, I want him more than ever.

I have no idea where he's gone now. That's Tony for you, he doesn't care, simply abandons you round the back of some random club in the dead of night. Good job I know the place.

Finally moving away from the wall, I consciously wrap my arms around myself and head into the club. Normally I'm all for a night out on the tiles, drinking and dancing your cares away, but there's only one way tonight can turn out and I'm not sure if I'm ready to go down that path again just yet.

Inside the air is smoky and bodies are crammed together wherever you look. Friday night in Brighton, you wouldn't find anything else. Once again I'm wondering where Tony is and if he's going to be much longer. I don't mind being alone of course; I've done it plenty of times, the company's nice though.

It's ten minutes before I set eyes on my companion again and he's slowly making his way toward me, slipping through the crowds, his arms held high as he avoids spilling the bottles clutched in his hands. When Tony finally reaches me, he slides an arm around my waist as he hands a drink over, leaning into me and whispering, 'Tonight's about to get better.' His hand slips deep into my back pocket and he places something there. 'For when you get bored,' he adds, tilting his head slightly so that his heated breath tickles my skin.

And then he's gone, he's downed one of his drinks and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving me stood motionless. Fuck, he's doing it again. I let a sigh go, looking down at the drink in my hand and then over my shoulder in the direction he headed off in. It doesn't surprise me when I find him propped up at the bar talking to a small huddle of girls; some blonde, some brunette, but all pretty and all interested in him. I'm never going to be anything other than a game to him. I know that now. He's made it pretty clear.

My eyes are stinging again, tears are threatening and I can feel the bile rising higher in my throat as the seconds pass by. I need to stop letting him walk all over me. Lifting the bottle in my hand to my lips, I take a long drink, throwing my head back and squeezing my eyes shut tight. Two can play this game.

Once I'm done, I abandon the bottle and make my way to the bathroom, pushing my way through the throngs of people dancing mindlessly and then finally locking myself into a cubicle. At least Tony's useful for one thing. Shoving my hand into the pocket Tony had been in earlier I pull out a small plastic bag and hold it up in front of me. Sure enough it contains a tiny white pill with the imprint of a dove on it. Tonight was about to get better, Tony wasn't wrong. It was time to forget about him for a start.

I lean my head back against the cubicle wall and then place the pill on my tongue, swallowing it down dry. Even though I know it's going to take a while to kick in I already feel a sense of freedom. It's the pre-emptive high.

Fifty minutes later I'm in the centre of the dance floor and I'm lost in the music. I'm happy here. It's an escape from everything… from everyone. Everything's a blur around me, like everything's happening in fast-forward, bodies writhing together in a haze of heat and noise. Some guy who introduced himself as Ryan latched onto me twenty minutes ago and he's been on me ever since, grinding up against me and not caring where he puts his hands. The attention's nice, but of course, genuine attention is nice.

I don't know where Tony is. I don't care where Tony is. And, in fact, the next time I see Tony is at 5am when he falls through the door of our hotel room and knocks the kettle and mugs onto the floor with a loud crash. I'm not asleep, thankfully. I've only been in thirty minutes myself; Ryan and I were getting to know each other for a while back at his apartment. I'm sure he would have liked me to stay the night actually but I'd needed a release that didn't involve fucking Tony and Ryan had been there, ready and willing, I wasn't looking for anything more.

'Who's the tosser who put that there?' exclaims Tony, clumsily trying to put everything back in place. I'd help him, but it's too much effort to move. 'Fucking idiots.' His cursing continues on and I simply squeeze my eyes shut trying to block him out.

It's another fifteen minutes before Tony ceases stumbling around the place and he collapses onto the bed beside me. My entire body goes rigid at the thought of having him lying beside me all night and I quickly roll onto my side, turning my back to him. But Tony hasn't moved since he got into bed. I sigh softly, shooting a glance over my shoulder, an eyebrow rising in curiosity. He's out cold, mouth open wide and catching flies.

Is it wrong that I'm slightly disappointed?