Page 27 of People Change

She shakes her head and says it’s okay, but he insists. When she tells him her cocktail choice, Shirin notices his eyebrows rise marginally. She knows what he’s thinking, so she says, ‘They weren’t working for me.’ The antidepressants.

‘They weren’t?’

‘Maybe they were. I don’t know. I can’t be bothered any more.’

He nods. ‘I get that.’

They reach the front of the bar, and he orders for them. She leans against the bar; it is damp from some unknown liquid and gets onto her sheer blouse.

By the bar the voices are louder, echoing around the space, and she has to lean into Kian to hear what he is saying properly. He asks her something about work, to which she waves her hand and says, ‘Work is what it is.’ Hesmiles again, though when he looks down at her she can tell he wants to press it further.

So she leans over to the bartender and asks for two Jägerbombs as well. Kian looks initially surprised and then laughs. When they arrive, Shirin puts her hand on top of his at the bar and says they must down them.

She picks up the weighty tumbler glass, with the shot glass inside. They lock eyes before they drink the shot and Red Bull in one quick motion. The effect is a sugary burning down her throat and a warming in her belly. It is pleasant and she licks her lips afterwards, relishing the bitter and sweet taste of it.

They take their drinks away from the bar, though they do not go outside, back to the rest of the group. Instead they stand to the side of the bar.

‘Who’s she?’ Shirin asks, nodding her head towards the dark-haired girl outside. Or just in the general direction of outside. Either way, Kian knows what she means.

A sliver of a smile traces his lips, which he touches with his thumb, his eyes following her gaze. ‘Salma. She’s on my course.’

‘Are you guys dating? You’d make a cute couple, if you are.’ The words come out so easily that she thinks if they were not her own and she were to hear them, she would believe them. They are also incredibly familiar, though she cannot tell why. It is not jealousy, she thinks, but something indescribable. Kian is a figment of her past, someone she thought she’d never see again. She shouldn’t be seeing him around unannounced now, or the women he’s dating. It is like seeing Christmas decorations in spring. It isn’t right.

He raises both eyebrows. ‘I wouldn’t say dating.’

An image of them having sex flashes before her eyes and that’s even worse.

‘Cool,’ she says, biting the side of her mouth lightly, repeatedly, to divert her attention elsewhere. She picks up her cocktail from the bar and takes a long sip. It is sweet and juice-like. That’s why Hana likes it; it’s so tasty you forget the alcohol content.

‘Cool?’ he repeats. His eyes have a glassy look and he is smiling, which makes her smile – and that is how she knows she is already on her way to intoxication.

‘Well, she’s beautiful and you’re very good-looking, so yes, I’m happy for you, whatever you’re doing.’

‘You think I’m good-looking? That’s news to me.’ He sips his beer, and when he puts his drink down, his lips are glossy.

‘I mean,’ she says, ‘I think you know you are. Look at the glasses you’re wearing. Very few people can pull them off naturally, without looking like they’re trying too hard.’

The tops of Kian’s ears are pink and this gives her satisfaction – like, Yes, let’s both be embarrassed.

He rolls his eyes. ‘So what you’re saying is: you don’t like my glasses? Thank you for humbling me.’

‘No, I do like them. They suit you. You look good.’

Neither of them says anything for a moment. They just look at each other. Until Henry bounds over and puts his arms around their shoulders, jolting them both into reality.

‘What are you both talking about?’ he asks, his beer-breath entering Shirin’s space.

‘Fashion,’ Kian says at the same time as Shirin says, ‘Nothing.’

They all go back to Millie’s house. It’s getting darker earlier, which is jarring in comparison with summer's long evenings, but she is pissed, so barely notices.

Millie puts ‘Wrecking Ball’ by Miley Cyrus on her Bluetooth speakers, and Henry groans that he wants proper music on, but the women in the group insist that no, this is important. The living room is a haze of cigarette smoke, and flashing lights from the mini disco-ball Millie whipped out from the storage cupboard (at whose appearance they all yelled in jubilation).

She is conscious of Kian and Salma. Of the way Salma leant into him at the bar when they returned to their seats. Of the way, when they walked back to Millie’s, they hung back together, to walk separately. And of the way they are now outside in the garden together, while she is singing along badly to the music with Millie – enjoying herself, but a small part of her is outside, with them both. Like most times in life, Shirin cannot be fully present in the moment; there is always something niggling away in her mind.

It is at the end of the fourth Miley song that Henry interjects, putting on Travis Scott. Shirin rolls her eyes, staggering to the sofa and plopping herself down onto it. It is only when she is sitting down that she realises how drunk she is. Sitting still, everything around her is moving. She closes her eyes, but she can still sense that everything is moving, and that just makes it worse. She liked the way itfelt to drink, that with drunkenness anything she felt towards her work, her life, faded away. But now she is left with regret.

She staggers towards the downstairs toilet and, once inside, sits on the floor, head between her legs. It is enjoyable, sitting on the floor. Until there is a tap on the door. Then she scrambles up, washes her hands and leaves. The girl Jasper is seeing stands before her, and she gives Shirin a polite nod before going into the bathroom.