Page 64 of Do You Ship It

‘Yes! Sure.’ I don’t love the idea of being stuck by myself, but I don’t want to abandon Anissa, and this place is so packed it might be ages before we find each other again. I take her glass of lemonade, and am trying to decide whether to go talk to Raf and his friends or if I can lean against the kitchen counter looking cool, when someone sweeps into the kitchen from the living room and my heart plummets.

Her hair is down for once, in carefully styled black curls around her shoulders, and she’s wearing a pale blue minidress, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, an empty glass in her hand.

And even though she hasn’t noticed me immediately, even though I want to run in the opposite direction before she can seeme, I blurt, ‘Daphne?What are you doing here?’

Whatisshe doing here? I never told the girls any details about the party, and I made it sound like I was going with Jake, rather than as this little groupincluding Max and Anissa, and – andoh my God, Max and Anissa are here, and Daphne is here, and …

Why is she here?!

She breaks into a grin, dashing over to throw her arms around me. I can smell the alcohol on her breath, sweet and potent, and her palms are clammy as she holds my arm.

‘Oh my gosh, Cerys! This issucha small world! You should’ve said it was Raf’s party you were coming to!’

‘Do you … know … Raf?’ My head is swimming. This cannot be happening.

‘Not really. We’re friends on Insta. Do you remember that guy I told you about, in the year above at college? Daniel?’

‘The rugby guy? But I thought that fizzled out?’

‘It did, but then he messaged me the other day totally out of the blue. Well, he fire-emoji reacted to my outfit of the day, so I messaged him, which, Iknow, I know we said I shouldn’t and I should be done with him because he was so flaky, but then he invited me tonight because he plays rugby with a bunch of the Colleg Carreg guys and … Oh my gosh,pleasedon’t be mad, Cerys, I swear I was totally going to tell you all! I was just embarrassed it wouldn’t work out, but he’s beensoflirty all night, and it’s going really well!’

I’m too overwhelmed to say much beyond, ‘That’s … Wow, Daphne.’

Relief washes over me.She’s here for a boy. Of course she is. This has nothing to do with me.

Tipsy, she leans in, swaying slightly, and babbling, ‘And I thought, well, I couldn’t bring you lotwithme, like backup. Nikita would’ve shown up in a trench coat and a fake moustache, haha! And it would’ve been weird. Like,youwere coming to a party for a boy, andweweren’t all tagging along. It’s sort of a date! But I don’t know anyone else here, and it’s a bit … I mean, everyone’s lovely, obviously, and I’m with Daniel, so.’

‘Right. Yeah.’ I’m not sure what her point is, and if she’s just drunk or if she’s genuinely worried I’m about to tell the girls she went somewhere without us andshe’llbe ousted from the group.

Mostly, I’m thinking: I have to get out of here before Anissa comes back from the toilet, and Daphne sees her.

‘Should you be getting back to Daniel, then?’ I ask, and my stomach knots even as she beams.

‘Yes! And you should be getting back to Jake.’ She nods at the second lemonade I’m holding, and I don’t correct her. Daphne grabs a bottle of white wine off the counter, splashing some into her glass, then she winks at me. ‘Come find me later, though – I want you to introduce me properly! I can interrogatehim about why he hasn’t snogged your face off already, LOL!’

‘Ha. Yeah. Great.’

Okay, add to list of people Daphne cannot interact with tonight: Anissa, Max, and Jake.

She’s out of the kitchen, though, and Anissa is back – they miss each other by mere seconds. The relief makes me dizzy, but I rush forward to Anissa, who is smiling, none the wiser, and say, ‘Come on – let’s go find Jake.’

We find him in the conservatory as promised. There’s a TV that’s not turned on, the doors are open to the garden, and most of the room is taken up by worn, brown leather sofas. Jake is squashed into one with about five other people, telling a story. He’s got a whole crowd hanging off his every word, his infectious smile matched on their rapt faces.

Lurking by the side of the sofa, shoulder leaning against the doorframe and arms crossed, his usual bored and irritably aloof expression in place, is Max.

His eyes snap to mine in the same second I notice him, and it almost stops me in my tracks. He drops his arms slightly, stands a bit straighter.

He looksgood.

And not just ‘boy in football kit’ good, but …

I sigh internally, because ‘sexy’ is not a word I wouldeverwant to associate with Max, and yet. AndYET.

He’s wearing dark-wash jeans and a black sweatshirt that manages to strike the perfect balance between casual and flattering, the long sleeves pushed up near his elbows. His hair is in that stupid some-up-some-down bun again, except right now I really have to (and hate to) admit to myself that it looks very much theoppositeof stupid; his hair looks shiny and wavy in a way I almost envy.

Someone leaves the room, and Anissa bumps into me as she moves to let them past, reminding me exactly what motivated me to invite her here in the first place. Jake, playing up to his audience, still hasn’t noticed us.

‘Come on,’ I say to Anissa, and we pick our way across the room. When we get close to Max, she steps to my side instead of huddling behind me, and I say, ‘Anissa, this is the guy I was telling you about –’

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