Page 52 of Diving In
“Ready,” I lie, because suddenly the idea of a crowded bar with Sam at my side feels like awfully like a test I haven’t studied for.
Chapter 23
Nineteen years old
Sam
The club’s jammed. End of term chaos, with bodies pressed tight and music so loud you can barely hear yourself think. I should’ve known this was a bad idea the second we walked in, but Kath’s already out on the dance floor, hair swaying, dress riding up her thighs, screaming the chorus to a song I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard before.
I came here to see my friend, I remind myself.My very, very hot best friend, part of me whispers back. A best friend who looks beautiful, with strands of hair tumbling out of the messy bun she’s just made, and make-up on that makes her eyes look even more striking.
“Do you want anything?” Kath appears at my side, taking a break from the dance floor. “Shona and I are going to the bathroom and then I’m heading to the bar on my way back.”
“Just water, thanks.”
A few minutes later she passes me a glass of water. I look suspiciously at the bottle in her hand.
“That drink’s as blue as pool water.”
“It’s also obnoxiously sweet.” She grins. “Basically gives me a massive sugar high.”
I chuckle, sipping from my glass while she gulps her drink down. I look at it critically. I’ve never had one and probably won’t for a while. Swimming training doesn’t exactly mix with alcohol. Like it doesn’t mix with girlfriends, weekend trips with friends or lie-ins. But all those sacrifices are worth it, they have to be. I’ve gone so far down this path that there isn’t another option. There’s no point thinking about what-ifs… even when they’re standing right in front of me.
“I remember what happened when you had too many of those in freshers’ week,” a guy pipes up from next to us.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Kath groans. “I want to drink this without the memories.”
“I don’t believe you actually have any memories of that,” the guy quips.
“I have enough,” she shoots back.
“What happened?” I ask, curious.
“Oh, I drank too many, and then my tongue was dyed blue for three days.” She shrugs, clearly embarrassed.
I laugh. “I can imagine that.”
“All right, big guy,” Kath retorts, narrowing her eyes. “Just because you can’t drink at your fancy American uni.”
Grinning I raise my hands in defence, and she takes another gulp. Yeah, that drink looks far too blue. Looking around the group, I realise that I’ve already forgotten half of their names. They’ve got a whole shorthand I don’t speak, jokes about a lecturer who says “super” every other word and plans for a library booth they all seem to own by squatter’s rights. Flo rolls her eyes and Kath rolls hers back, perfectly in sync, and I realise there are stories here I wasn’t in.
I’m not used to Kath having stories without me.
“Let’s dance,” she says suddenly.
“You know I’m an awful dancer, KitKat.”
“Aww come on,” she begs, tugging at my arm. “Just this once. Please. For the pirate’s code.”
“The code?” one of her friends asks.
“Weird childhood thing.” Kath forcibly grabs my hand and starts to pull me towards the dance floor.
“I’m pretty sure the pirate’s code doesn’t have any dancing clauses in it.” I look around desperately for a spot that won’t involve anyone stepping on my toes.
“Well, I’ve added one in. Addendum fifteen.”
I sigh. “Fine.” It’s always impossible to say no to Kath.
