Come Undone
Chapter 7
Warnings: bit of drug stuff.
ps- I'm totally overawed by your reviews, thank you x so much so that I just don't know where to start with replies but I really really appreciate them, every single one.
*
Even the best fall down sometime
And even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find you and I
Collide.
*
I have no appetite. For anything.
Not food, not work. I wonder sometimes if he was right, and it would have been better if he'd never returned.
There's an empty pit in my stomach, hollow and cavernous. It's not the first time I've felt it. The first was at Hogwarts, the night of the battle. When I saw Harry on the grass, dead. Or so we thought at the time. The empty pit first gaped open on that night, at that moment. Lately I've started to wonder if it had ever really closed over again.
My dreams are haunting nightmares, littered with him. I can never reach him, though I can see him clearly, even smell him. They're so vivid, I often wake up crying.
And I hate my house now. It just reminds me of him. Him sprawled on his couch, him sitting at my dining table. Him coming down the stairs, him leaving through my front door.
I'm at my front door now, trying to muster the energy to fumble through my bag for my keys. This awful lethargy is permeating my whole life at the moment. Nothing seems to get through; I've even started taking the local Portkey to work to try and jolt myself out of the stupor (I hate taking Portkeys, I get thrown around violently every time) but nothing breaks through the haze. I feel like I'm viewing life through smoky glass, just going through the motions.
I drop the keys by accident and sigh, eventually bending to pick them up and jiggle them into the hole. I lean my weight against the door; even that seems heavier than before. I step inside.
And he's there, sitting on my kitchen bench.
He smiles at me, a hesitant smile that seems involuntary.
The pit in my stomach seems to fill in so forcefully that I feel queasy and lightheaded; my hand searches the wall for balance.
"Hi."
I don't reply; I'm still staggered, busy reminding myself to breathe.
He doesn't make a move towards me. "Sorry - about breaking in. I didn't want to hang around outside..."
He looks good, so good to me. Sitting there in a dark t shirt and slouched jeans, Crookshanks winding around his torso. I almost don't trust he's really there. My hand moves to my own face, touching it as if to make sure that I'm still real.
He vaults down from the bench and I finally find words. "I thought you were gone."
My voice sounds odd to my ears.
"So did I. I've got something I have to ask you."
I think he realises then that I look a little faint. "Are you okay? Shall I get you a tea?"
I nod numbly, though I know I won't drink it. He turns to the kitchen and I shuffle in to the dining room table, and sit perched uncomfortably on the edge of one of my chairs.
"Here." He hands it to me and I make a conscious effort not to touch his fingers. I place it in front of me, staring into the still swirling surface.
"What are you doing here Harry." Still odd, my voice is barely audible.
He clears his throat. "I don't know. I should just... I never should have..."
I look up at him, glad my eyes are dry. I almost feel past crying now.
"You said you were going."
"I know. I'm.." He turns abruptly, pressing his fists to his forehead. "Fuck it! I know."
Irrationally I want to hug him. I grip the mug tighter.
"Something's happened."
A twinge of interest sparks in me and I observe it, amused that it's the first interest I've shown in anything these last few weeks. I just look at him, waiting.
"Gripper came back, from overseas. And he..."
He trails off, staring at me, his face set in a frown.
"He what?"
"He wants to see you."
I feel the blood drain from my face. "Me?"
He grips the counter behind him and I see his knuckles whiten. "You. He's...he's been thinking about you, ever since..."
He trails off and my mind finally kicks into some kind of life; the opposite of its condition for the last few weeks while he keeps talking.
"He won't give it up. He keeps telling me to invite you somewhere, but I've been stalling, said I couldn't get hold of you." He grinds his teeth, I see his jaw working. "He's not the most patient guy."
I nod. It's bizarre, the instinctual danger the thought of Warren stirs in me is finally bringing me to life, I'm thinking and planning before I realise.
"Well, I'll have to go."
"What?"
"You can't blow your cover." I look up at him, feeling exceptionally calm. "I can't let you blow your cover."
He frowns at me, the frustration etched on his features. His eyes are dark and his fingers are still gripping the bench, tighter now.
"You can't."
"Yes I can. Besides, if I can't, then why are you here?"
He shakes his head, then folds his arms, leaning on the bench. "I just needed to know what he knows. I can't try to read his mind too deeply, it's too risky now. He's getting better at blocking too." He looks at me, incredibly sad all of a sudden. "I just need to know if you're in danger, if he can find you."
I think on that. Probably not. He won't find anything from the girls at the store, they don't know me. But it could put Harry in danger if he finds out I lied. He'd be suspicious. And I want to help Harry, more than anything. I decide then.
"Maybe. I tried to get him to drop me somewhere else but he insisted on bringing me here."
Harry closes his eyes, and I feel guilty for lying. He swears under his breath.
"But I... I want to Harry. I can help."
He shakes his head vehemently. "No."
Something I vaguely recognise as anger whips up and out of me before I can catch it - I've felt nothing so intense in the last while and maybe that's why I can't contain it. I'm instantly yelling.
"You know what? You don't get a say in my life! I've asked nothing of you! And yet you come and go as you please, just taking my friendship for granted. I'm a big girl Harry, a talented witch. It's my decision too."
He watches me closely, his eyes darker than ever. I stare back, breathing heavily; I notice a new tattoo on the inside of his other forearm. Then he sighs, and pulls out a chair.
"You're right. Who do I think I am."
I frown - confused and wary of his change of tack.
"But Hermione. He's dangerous - more than you know. He's not stable. You don't want to get messed up in this."
My glare is baleful. "Don't tell me what I want."
To my surprise, he laughs. And I remember him acutely from my dreams - the recall of which nearly drags me instantly back into my sadness. But I have a purpose now. I have something to do. And despite the imminent danger, that makes me close to happy.
"So. What's the plan."
*
We have dinner. It feels strange, the tension between us. It's not just this thing with Warren. I hadn't thought much about the last time we were together at Grimmauld, it was too painful. But now I run it through my mind, cringing a little at how transparent I'd been. He keeps his distance I notice, and avoids touching me. I feel a sharp pang of hurt at that.
"I think I know the best tactic."
I glance at him; he's staring unwavering into his glass. He takes a sip, then stares back into the liquid again.
"You come over; we're having a party on Saturday. He'll be there and I'll just make it clear...that you're mine. That you're with me."
My stomach flops violently, I breathe out slowly. He hurries on.
"See, he likes me. But he's been irritated that I won't bring you to him. Now if he realises it's because I feel more for you than I was letting on, I think he'll back off a bit. I think."
He still hasn't looked up at me, and I try and order my thoughts for when he will.
"Well, that makes sense then." My voice sounds odd again.
"Yeah."
We're both staring in opposite directions; Crookshanks' loud purr is the only noise.
"But you'll have to practice - the mind blocks. And no magic whatsoever; you'll have to concoct a whole back story of your muggle upbringing." He sighs and runs his hands over his face and up to lock behind his head. Finally he looks at me.
"And you'll have to go shopping."
He eyes my work clothes, collared shirt and fitted skirt. I roll my eyes.
"I know you're not trying to offer me fashion advice."
He smiles crookedly, amused. "I wouldn't dream of it. But just to fit in - think Angie. But slightly...more."
"You mean you don't want me to turn up in my underwear?"
He glowers at me, but then smiles, suppressing a laugh. "No. Funnily enough."
"Fine."
There's silence again and it's not comfortable. I stand up abruptly. "So, are you staying? Tonight?" My heart stills, waiting for his answer.
"If that's alright."
"I suppose." He laughs as I walk away to grab a towel from the clean laundry I brought in this morning. When I turn back to offer it to him, he's followed me - I nearly walk into him.
"Thanks...Hermione. Thanks for doing this."
He's so close, and it's painful, how I can feel the heat of him - and how that reminds me of our last goodbye. What am I letting myself in for? I step back slightly, but can't resist putting my hand on his chest.
"You don't need to thank me. Just...stop leaving. I don't like it."
He nods and closes his fingers around my hand, holding it against his heart.
"I'll try."
I throw the towel in his face and step past him. "Whatever."
He whips the towel around and flicks my legs, I squeal. He laughs and bounds up the stairs and I close my eyes and fall into the sofa. What am I letting myself in for indeed.
*
Holy. Crap.
I feel naked.
I turn in the mirror to look at my bum.
"Holy crap."
Crookshanks makes an odd noise from the bed, I'm not sure if it's approval or confusion, as he watches me checking my reflection. My jeans are dark, they feel spray painted on. My heels are nice; they make my legs look longer.
But I'm not sure about the top. It's black, fitted- enough that it pushes my fairly minimal cleavage slightly up. I've left my hair out, taming it so it falls in individual curls. My makeup is a little heavier than what I usually wear out, the eyes dark and smoky, but not as heavy as Angie's when I saw her last.
I catch sight of my face and shake my head, mentally scolding myself.
"Relax Hermione. No one is going to find this odd but you" I mutter.
There's a knock at the door.
"Here we go then." I don't know if I'm talking to Crookshanks or my own reflection.
When I open the door, he's facing away, looking out into the street, his hands in his jeans pockets. He turns and I see his face, anxious, and then it falls.
His eyes widen briefly then narrow. He frowns.
"You look hot."
It should be a compliment I think, but the tone is almost... pissed off - nearly accusatory.
My face struggles to find an expression.
"Uh..thanks?"
He reaches forward for my wrist, holding it out and letting his eyes fall down the length of me. I'm uncomfortable, until I see his expression. He's recovered a bit, and he's smiling now.
"You look nice. Really." He clears his throat. "You ready?"
I don't miss the note of concern in his voice. "I'm ready. Don't worry."
He nods briskly, and waits while I grab my bag and jacket, and lock the door behind me.
He holds my hand, and it feels natural and right -there's none of the awkwardness of the other night. It feels familiar, and I realise suddenly what it's like. It reminds me of how we used to be together, at school, and later, on the Horcrux hunt.
"Stay close to me tonight - okay?" He stops, making me look him in his eyes. I nod, and he opens the door of his car - the same car I'd followed him to that morning so long ago.
He jumps in and turns the ignition, taking off and driving so naturally I can't help but stare at him. He glances over and smiles.
"Not quite as fun as a Firebolt. But it's okay for now."
I look around at the lush interior. "Building pays alright then."
"Hmph." He makes an amused sound, but keeps his eyes on the road.
"So, Jean Granger. You remember where you were born, where you grew up..."
"The nice muggle school I went to...yes, I've got it all." I tap my head. "You're not really doubting that I didn't study enough over the last four nights are you?"
He smiles wide, shaking his head. "Wouldn't dare. But remember..." He turns and looks at me while we stop at some lights. "Don't get too cosy. It's just tonight."
I roll my eyes. The light goes green and he takes off quickly. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. His jeans are dark, and he's wearing a collared shirt for the first time in a while, fitted and black with the sleeves rolled up. At his collar I see he's wearing a dark grey singlet underneath, and just above that he has some leather doubled around his neck serving as a sort of necklace. I try and remember what he used to look like, back when we were at school. I find I can't - his green eyes are the only significant feature I still recognise. And the scar. Though even that has faded now.
"What."
"Nothing. It's just that you seem so... at ease in this life."
He stares at the road. "That doesn't mean I am."
We arrive sooner than I expect, he pulls over to parallel park before I recognise the house. Getting out, he grabs my hand again and makes me look at him. I shake my head.
"Don't ask me if I'm ready again, Jamie. I'm ready. Let's get this over with."
He smiles, and kisses my forehead. We step up to the house.
*
"Jamie!"
I recognise the Irish lilt of the voice that calls out to us once we walk into the big open room at the end of the hall. I'm still holding his hand as Angie bounds toward us, clad in a tiny black top, a short denim skirt and long boots. She's smiling; I expect it to fall once she sees me, but she doesn't even glance in my direction - just winds her hand around Harry's neck and kisses him full on the lips.
He doesn't flinch - just waits, as she presses against him with pure audacity, happy to be the centre of attention. When she releases him, he smiles, and squeezes her arm.
"Alright Angie?"
She smiles back, and I realise she is very pretty, even through the heavy black eye makeup. Her gaze is unmistakably fond, I feel like I'm intruding.
Finally he walks us past, not bothering to reintroduce us, but I think that's the right call. She doesn't let her eyes stray towards me once.
The room is dimly lit, loud music playing from unseen speakers. There's only around twenty people there, lounging on the couches, standing around. The whole back wall is open; the windows I saw the other day were actually cavity sliders and the room continues out to an expansive deck with an outdoor fireplace. It's nice, quite sophisticated - far from any stereotypical drug den party scene I might have imagined. But as we walk through the room I notice a few glazed eyes, with some unnaturally wide pupils at the centre of them.
He leads me out to the deck, and I see there's an impressive bar set up there, with the lanky form of Seth standing behind it.
"Jamie! What'll it be lad?"
Harry holds up two fingers and Seth quickly serves us up two tall glasses of something on ice that I don't recognise and that tastes good. He smiles at me, all straight teeth and sparkly eyes. There's something about his face that's charming and instantly likeable.
"Jean, right?"
I nod and take the drink, smiling back. Harry is talking to someone on the other side of him.
"Welcome to 'The Palace' then." He clinks his glass with mine, then leans in to whisper conspiratorially. "You're causing quite a stir you know."
"Really?" I'm not acting when I say that.
He gestures to the room. "Oh yeah." He glances down at me, and then drapes one arm around my shoulder and squeezes. "Don't worry though. It's a good thing."
I catch Angie, finally looking at me, like I'm something on the bottom of her shoe. "You sure about that?"
"Just stick with me girl."
Harry turns around then.
"Don't listen to a thing this guy says."
"Hey!" Seth looks almost genuinely upset as Harry leads me away again, to sit by the fire. He shouts something after us that I don't catch, but he's smiling when I look back.
"He's sweet."
Harry laughs into his drink.
"I don't know if he's 'sweet'. But he's good."
I clink my glass with his, noticing Angie watching us.
"So far so good then?"
He cocks an eyebrow.
"Still early, Jean. Still early."
*
The night goes on, and I genuinely relax. The occasional daggers from Angie are the only low point as I meet and talk to people who wouldn't be out of place at our after work gatherings. There's a few more tattoos than I'm used to, slightly different clothing and make up, but I find myself laughing and enjoying everyone's company.
Harry is attentive. It's definitely part of my enjoyment, even though I know it's not genuine. But I can't help but revel in his little touches - his fingers brushing my neck, his hand resting on my waist or lower back.
I'm talking to a shy girl with dark hair and ridiculously heavy eye makeup when I feel a shift of mood at our gathering.
I feel slightly disorientated for a moment, and then I hear a voice, close enough to my ear that it makes me jump.
"I wondered when I'd see you again."
I take a deep breath; this is what I've been preparing for. I turn around trying to keep a neutral expression.
"Oh hi!" I'm pleased that my voice is steady and light.
Warren looks down into my eyes. His stocky frame fills my vision, though he's not as tall as Harry, and definitely not a patch on Seth. But he's far more intimidating, his presence seems to fill the space more than I'd remembered.
"Great party!" I keep my tone playful and perky.
He smiles, and I wonder if his smile ever reaches his eyes. Harry is nowhere to be found, but I sort of knew he wouldn't be. I adjust my thoughts to call him Jamie in my mind. I know I can't be too careful.
Then I feel it. Invasive now, as if he's trying to ambush me. It's harder to resist his delving into my mind this time, but luckily I've been practicing. I throw up trivial thoughts of my retail job, shopping, drinks with girlfriends, this party.
His eyes narrow and I smile, determined not to arouse suspicion.
"You're having fun?"
He means it as a question I'm sure, but it comes out as a statement.
"Absolutely. This place is gorgeous."
He stares at me, as if considering something. "Have a good time then."
And he walks away.
I'm too surprised to feel relieved. That was almost too easy.
I go back to my conversation, feeling slightly rattled.
I try not to look around too much, but I see Warren holds court wherever he sits, joining in the conversation but observing also. It seems like he is genuinely liked by everyone, but there's a wariness in the air that wasn't there before he came. Fletch also arrived with him, his face still surly like the other morning, which leads me to believe that's his permanent expression. He talks in a low voice to Angie who's now relatively drunk and she swears at him and tugs her hand away, ordering another drink from Seth at the bar. Seth shrugs at Fletch and hands it to her.
I spy Harry finally not long after, next to Warren, their heads bent low in conversation. Harry meets his eyes; they look for all the world like close brothers conferring on something. I force myself to look away.
Harry comes and sits next to me soon after, not saying anything, but sitting perceptibly close.
About an hour later, Seth moves everyone inside, shutting the cavity sliders. The group is down to about ten now, a few have taken off, but Warren is still there, clearly settled in for the night. I think I can feel in my peripheral vision that he watches me a lot. I determine to ignore it.
Seth pulls out his guitar and starts to play, strumming in perfect background music to the conversation. I watch him for a bit, enjoying the ease with which he plays. He's incredibly talented.
"Good isn't he."
Harry's voice is close to my ear, he leans in to be heard.
I nod vigorously. "Amazing. Really."
He smiles at me. "Will you get us a drink?"
I glance at his drink, it's half full. He starts to down it as I stand up and head to the kitchen. He's shown me where to get bottles from earlier, so I get two, and take them back over.
Harry's still sitting on the low couch but has shifted over a bit now. He's talking to a guy beside him and I stand there, distracted by Seth for a moment, transfixed by his long fingers spanning the strings on the guitar.
So I'm caught off guard when Harry lightly grabs my thigh - between my legs and gently guides me towards him.
I look down but he's still looking at the guy he's talking to; his hands seeming to move unconsciously to my other leg and then up and over my bum, lingering until they settle on my hips, and he steadily lowers me down to sit on his lap.
My body responds quicker than my brain, and more naturally; my arm winds around his neck to lean into him. His arm travels around the back of me to hold me there, and his hand cups my thigh with his thumb rubbing back and forth on the fabric of my jeans.
I pass him the drink and pretend to listen to their conversation, knowing it's crucial that I look and feel comfortable. He keeps talking as I feign my interest, aware that my heart's beating too fast.
He taps one hand on my outer thigh in time to the music and takes a drink with the other. His face is pretty much hidden to the room by mine when he murmurs something that I finally pick up as 'Sorry.'
"About what?"
He smells really good tonight, some subtle cologne that I can detect more now that he is so very close. I try to concentrate on how his closeness shouldn't be unusual.
"About all of this." He squeezes me, signalling the way we're sitting I think.
I shake my head and bring my hand to his face, kiss him on his cheek and linger in front of his ear, then whisper to him.
"It's fine. You shouldn't be thinking like that. You've already slept with me, remember?"
When I draw back to look in his eyes, his smile is slightly shocked, but then his eyes turn playful.
"Oh yeah, that's right. Was it good?"
I feel the effect of the alcohol suddenly, as if the warmth suffusing my veins just decided to shift through me. I give a dismissive snort.
"As if you have to ask."
He laughs, and pulls me into him, his face presses into my neck for a moment. I think he breathes in as if he's inhaling me.
Without looking around, I can feel a lot of eyes on us. Seth is grinning our way as he plays and Harry just smiles slightly at him before he takes a long drink.
Angie tries and fails to look away, her angry glare turning slightly more wounded now. I don't dare look to Warren.
After a while, Harry leans back into the couch more, pulling me with him. I take my arm away from his neck and I'm half lying on him, my back resting on his chest, one of his arms around my waist, the other on his beer. We both watch Seth, and listen as he sings; I'm glad for his distraction.
I glance at Warren, I can't help it.
He's staring, at me steadily, contemplating. I can't believe how blatant he is, but he stares so long, I have to look away.
Then Harry leans us forward, placing his empty bottle on the coffee table, before pulling us back into the sofa again. His hand comes up to cover my bare shoulder that's closest to his face, his warm fingers stroking slightly. He kisses it, firmly, and then runs his lips softly and absently over my skin.
I can't help but close my eyes; a sharp wave of heat running right down my spine before I catch it.
Seth is singing a song I don't recognise, but it sounds lovely just the same. I concentrate on his voice, trying not to get too out of control with my emotions, breathing to calm my body down. But it's difficult, especially when Harry's breath is ghosting over my skin and his lips brush over the point where my shoulder joins my neck.
I close my eyes, trying to let a calm fill me, as if there is nothing unusual about the intimate way I'm lying with my best friend in a roomful of people. But with my eyes closed, the physical sensations are heightened; I feel the hardness of his chest against my back and the vibration of his voice against me as he talks to the guy next to him again.
I can feel Warren watching me still and so, I finally let go.
I've never done anything by halves.
So why shouldn't I throw myself into this, as wholeheartedly as any other project? This is another assignment, and I'm good at assignments. If my job is to convince everyone that this man I'm lying on is a guy called Jamie who I've fallen at least in lust with, and not my best friend Harry who I've known since I was eleven and who's never shown the slightest interest in me romantically, then I will do that.
So what if I end up with my heart - or to be less melodramatic, my ego -trampled on? So what if I'm living a fantasy that if I'm really honest with myself has been on my wish list for some time now.
There's a job to do. So I'm going to do it.
When I open my eyes again it's really clear to me. I'm Jean Granger, muggle girl, just innocently enamoured with this muggle guy, Jamie Dursley. I tilt my head to look at his face, so close to mine. It's not really that hard to pretend.
I stretch my arm up and around to cup the back of his head. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. He pulls me a bit tighter to him, but that's the extent of his reaction.
Angie is a different story. She glances at me with obvious hostility and I surprise myself by smiling at her languidly. She looks away.
Any part of me that was feeling slightly self conscious has pretty much evaporated; there's another couple in the corner of the opposite couch, pretty wrapped up in each other and it's fairly dark in here. Besides, I'm too comfortable now, leaning against him like this - feeling his breath in my ear. I think I could even sleep like this if my senses weren't so on fire.
Seth is singing and his voice is so attractive, it really wouldn't sound out of place on the radio. It's hard to concentrate on conversation now so I don't, I just listen to the music.
The song finishes and there's a quiet lull.
Then Angie speaks up.
Sethy? Play my song?"
He screws up his face in answer. "Aww Ang..."
"Please?" She's pleading but I get the feeling she -and everyone else - knows that he's going to give in.
He grumbles, but begins strumming. When he starts singing, I vaguely recognise the song as Coldplay - it suits his voice. I feel Harry's chest rise as he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, almost like a sigh.
Honey you are a rock
Upon which I stand
An unusual hush has fallen over the group, sensing something. I look at Angie who has her eyes closed, swaying blissfully in her own world.
And I came here to talk
I hope you understand
Green eyes
Yeah the spotlight shines upon you
I get it now. It's Angie's song for Harry - or Jamie in her mind. Far from feeling put out or uncomfortable, it makes me sad - for her. I see why she feels the way she feels about him, and I can see it's deeper than an infatuation. I suddenly feel guilty for having any part in deceiving her.
And how could anybody deny you
I wonder how Harry feels about it all. He's tapping his fingers on me again, but only I can detect that his body has tensed just slightly underneath me.
Green eyes
You're the one that I wanted to find
And anyone who tried to deny you
Would be out of their mind
I register then that he sang the last two lines softly in my ear. Fletch is glaring openly at Harry now. I rest my head against his.
Honey you are the sea
Upon which I float
Music suddenly pours out of the rooms speakers, giving a few of us, including me a fright. I turn towards the stereo and Warren's standing there, smirking but with no warmth in his smile.
"That's enough of that crap. This a fucking party or wot?"
Fletch is the only one who's laugh is genuine, though others laugh along too. I steal a glance at Angie who looks sullen but inexplicably scared at the same time.
Harry pats my thigh in a manner that means he needs to get up.
I stand to let him up and don't even flinch when his hand touches my bum as he passes behind me. I try not to notice that Angie leaves the room soon after him, stumbling slightly as she does.
I decide to go and sit next to Seth who's leaning his guitar against the wall, rocking happily in time to the dance music that fills the room now.
"Seth - you're really amazing on the guitar. Really."
He smiles at me, and there's a twinge of sadness in it, though his relentless optimism doesn't let it through.
"Ah it's just a hobby. Oh I had a song for you too!"
"You did?"
He grabs the guitar again and starts playing energetically even though it's harder to hear it now.
"Yeah - listen;" I recognise the rift of the David Bowie song before he starts singing. "Jean Genie... let yourself go oh whoa..."
I laugh and push him; I know he's teasing me in good humour. "I always hated that song. And that name." That's almost a slip up.
"Try being called Seth. I like it - your name. Jeanie, like in a bottle. You gotta promise me three wishes."
I laugh again, realising I like Seth just as much as Harry does. "Sure. Easy."
"Alright - first one!"
I hold my hands up. "Whoa hang on, they're conditional...."
He ignores me. "I wish... you'd let me get you another drink."
I screw my face up. "Is that all?"
He nods and I shrug. "Granted!"
He's back before I get a chance to feel uncomfortable by myself.
"Here."
I take a long drink; it tastes lovely. "You're a good bartender too."
"Well that's the Seth Special. Slightly enhanced. You'll thank me more later." And he winks.
I shrug and stand up, then let the music wash over me.
*
Lyrics credit: Collide by Howie Day, Green Eyes by Coldplay.