“I don’t know about you, but I feel knackered.”
“Same, hun,” I muttered as I sat next to her.
I pulled my phone out before connecting it to my Bluetooth speaker and turning Blink 182 – “Always” up, but not too much that we couldn’t speak. The house was big enough to not have my mum banging on my door to turn it down.
“Have you decided what you’re wearing?” I asked Robyn who was twiddling with a loose curl from her messy bun up-do.
“Hmm, think so. I chose a bandeau midi-dress. In my favourite colour obvs, red.” She let out a small smile, nudging me. “How about you?”
“Black skater dress.” I nodded kicking my feet together. “I feel like getting drunk, but I can’t because of ballet tomorrow, and the last thing I want to do is fuck up. Especially with Ms. Camilla, she would have my arse for showing up hungover.”
“Darce, it’s your eighteenth, have a bloody drink. You’re sensible, you know when to stop.”
“Hmm, I suppose a couple wouldn’t hurt.” I shrugged before standing up and stretching my arms up. “Better start getting dressed.”
I groaned as I walked towards my walk-in wardrobe. I peeled my leggings and jersey off and discarded them to the floor. I pulled my underwear drawer out, trying to find something discreet that wouldn’t show under the dress I chose to wear. After rummaging, I found a seamless black thong and black-laced bra. I slipped them on and looked at myself in the mirror. My breasts were a good handful in size, so not too big. My legs long and toned, my stomach flat and defined; I had ballet to thank for my abs.
I was five-foot-seven, quite tall for a girl but not too tall. I wrapped myself in a black, silk dressing gown before walking out to my bedroom and sitting down at my dressing table. Robyn wasn’t in the room, which made me think she was getting a drink for us. Suddenly, I felt like drinking wasn’t a good idea. I can keep my distant from Conor when I’ve not had a drink because my brain kicks in, tells me that it isn’t a good idea to not go near him, but drunk Darcey around Conor is a recipe for disaster.
Maybe I should just have the one? Robyn comes bounding into the room with two bottles of champagne.
“It’s your party,” she shouts, excitement apparent in her voice. She placed one of the chilled bottles on my dressing table in front of me.
“Where did you get these from?” I ask, laughing before popping the cork and letting out a little shriek as the bubbles spill over the bottle.
“Erm, from the bar set up downstairs. They were just sitting in a massive chiller, so I thought, why not?” She laughed with me before taking a swig of her bottle.
“So, boo, I was thinking that maybe I would just stick to the one drink,” I said before taking a small sip of the champagne.
“Nah.” She shook her head ferociously from side to side. “Nope. It’s your birthday. You need the drink, especially when you see how hot Conor looks. Mate,” she said, fanning herself with her hand. “Honestly, Darce, you’re going to lose your shit.” She winked at me as she started undressing and pulling her dress out of its bag.
“Oh, man, okay, maybe I do need the drink,” I said sheepishly before taking a big mouthful, trying to calm my growing nerves.
“Mmhmm, you do.” She nodded as she slipped her red dress up her body, smiling at her reflection in the mirror as she started applying her make up.
After applying my foundation, I worked on a dark, smoky-eye look. I finished my eyes off with eyeliner then flicked my long lashes with mascara. I added some bronzer to my visible cheekbones, then finishing my look off with bright, red matte lipstick.
I rubbed my lips together before getting rid of any stray lipstick that had smudged. I tightened the hair toggle on the bottom of my fish-tail-plait that Kera did for me, pulling it round and over my shoulder so it’s sitting under my ribs.
I stood from the table, satisfied in how I looked, then dropped my robe, grabbing my skater-dress and slipping it over my little curves. The neck-line dipped a little lower than my parents would like, but it was my birthday and I was eighteen. I’m technically an adult.
“Babe, do me up,” I asked Robyn, who had now started on my champagne. I stood in front of her as she clasped the zip and yanked it up.
“There we go.” She smiled as she re-adjusted her dress as she stood.
I sprayed my perfume then stepped into my faithful Doc Martens.
“Mate.” Robyn giggled. “Your mum is going to lose her shit that you’re wearing them again.”
“I know.” I laughed with her, then poked my tongue out, grabbing the champagne off of her and downing what was left in the bottle.
“Ready?” Robyn asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I let out a small sigh, nerves crashing through my body. “Do I look okay?”
“Babe, you look like fire. So hot. You’re a rocket. Completely out of this world. Conor isn’t going to be able to keep his eyes off of you,” she said grabbing my hand and yanking me out of my bedroom and down towards the party.
I held on to her until we got downstairs, to see the house was brimming. I hardly knew these people, me and Robyn kept ourselves to ourselves in school, where most girls had cliques. We weren’t about that, we were happy with it just being us two. I barged my way through the crowds to get to the kitchen, seeing my mum’s face straight away.
Shit, she was pissed.
“Darcey, why? Why the boots?” she asked annoyed, her brows knitted together, and she looked me up and down.
“Because I like them and they’re me,” I sniped at her. “Plus, it’s my party and I’ll wear the boots if I want too” shrugging my shoulders up at her.
“Christ.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head, still muttering, before slipping into the crowd.
I looked behind to see Robyn trying not to laugh. We walked out into the marquee where the DJ was set up, and over the back was the bar which we made a bee-line straight for.
“Ladies,” the guy behind the bar said in a husky, low voice.
“Hey, can we have four shots of tequila and four vodka and lemonades please?” I batted my eyelashes at him.
“Sure thing.” He smiled back and winked at me as he tended to our drinks. I blushed.
“Thirsty?” Robyn asked.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
But the truth was, I wasn’t just thirsty for a drink, I was thirsty for Conor Royce. I needed to keep my distance from him.
The bartender passed us our tequila shots first, then went back to make the vodkas.
“Ready? 3... 2... 1...” I shouted as we both knocked back the shots, then sucked on the lemon. I winced. Christ, it was awful.
“That was fucking disgusting,” Robyn spat.
“I know, but we have another one each to do, so quick. Let’s just do it and get it over with,” I suggested, shoving the tequila into her hand.
“Ready?” I asked before knocking it back. That one actually didn’t taste too bad.
The music was booming through our bodies, “Roses” by SAINt JHN blasted through the marquee.
“Ladies,” the bartender crooned as he slid the four vodkas over to us.
“Thank you.” I smiled, grabbing my two plastic glasses and walking towards the dance floor when I felt his eyes on me. My heart pounded in my chest at the thought of him. I looked round the marquee, but I couldn’t see him. I knew when he was close; My skin covered in goose-bumps, the hairs on the back of my neck standing tall.