Page 25 of Seven Exes

Bibi and Lou exchange a pointed glance that I choose to ignore.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Friday arrives and I find myself outside the bar, leaning against a wall and breathing heavily. Something big feels like it’s about to happen. Something potentially life-changing. After all, the man I’m meant to be with could very well be waiting for me inside. Everything might change this evening. I might have sex. I might have sex with the first and last person I ever have sex with. Do I want that to be Alistair? He had a lovely penis, and our sex life was… enthusiastic. Plus, he’s bound to have learned a whole bunch of tricks in the last ten years. I sure have. But ishisthe last penis I ever want to have inside me?

I pull at the hem of my dress, feeling self-conscious. Lou convinced me to wear a sexy number that defied every rule about only showing off one of your assets at a time. All the leg and all the tit are currently available for anyone’s viewing pleasure. And, unfortunately, the one shot of back-of-cupboard whisky I had before leaving the flat hasn’t been enough to dismiss my insecurities about it.

For a minute, I picture Alistair sitting nervously at a table inside, bottle of wine already waiting. He was always so thoughtful like that, always considering what might make me smile. He’ll hug me properly this time – he was always a hugger – and then we’ll sit down. We’ll look at each other across the table and sparks will fly.

I pull out my compact to reapply yet more lipstick. I have to look perfect, I don’t want a hair out of place.

Then, when we’ve got a drink, he’ll tell me he’s broken up with his girlfriend in a way that won’t make me feel bad – maybe she’d also met someone else and is desperately relieved by him ending things. And then he’ll reach across the table and—

‘ESTHERRRRRR!’ My name is shrieked in a way that immediately shatters any romantic illusions I might have had.

Alistair is here and Alistair is drunk. He runs over, scooping me up and into his arms, spinning me around. I laugh and he whispers, hot breath on my ear, ‘I’m sorry, I’ve had a few.’

‘I can see that!’ I snort again as he puts me down.

‘They made me!’ he cries accusatorily, waving behind him. In slow motion, I take in the array of familiar faces, all smiling and waving.

Fuck.

School people. People from school. Folks I haven’t seen in over a decade. This isn’t just a group drink, this is a fuckingreunion.

There is a collective chorus of lazy hellos as older versions of people I never spoke to but knew intimately file past me.

‘Hiya!’ I manage, urgently feeling for my phone as I follow everyone in. Barely looking and using my fastest fingers, I panic-text Lou and Bibi:

EMERGENCY. COME RIGHT NOW, IT’S DEFO A GROUP THING. ASCHOOLGROUP THING. FCKIN EMERGENCY.

Inside the bar, Alistair is back in my personal space.

‘Can you believe everyone’s here? I told you I was going to sort out a reunion, didn’t I? Isn’t this the best?’ He beams at me expectantly and I feel a rush of affection for my boyish, excitable, happy-go-lucky first love. I want so much to grab his face and kiss it all over. He leans closer. ‘Can I get you a drink? It’s my round.’

‘Sure!’ I say enthusiastically, trying to get a hold of myself. Ugh, rounds, they’re the worst. Why can’t we all just pay for our own drinks? ‘I’d love a white wine, thanks.’

‘Come with me.’ He circles an arm around my back and his hand hovers for a moment before landing. It’s positioned carefully – not too high on my shoulders so it feels like I’m a mate he’s challenged to a game of darts, not too low that I feel groped. But still, I feel the warmth of his body against me and it sends something undefinable through my stomach.

We wait in the crowds by the bar, hoping for a tiny spaceto dive into, and I clear my throat. ‘So, er, will I get to meet your girlfriend tonight? Is she here?’ I try to keep the tension out of my voice and fail. But the fuzzy coat of booze Alistair is wearing saves me.

‘Er, no, no, just some old faces from school.’ His answer sounds nervous and I wonder if he’d noticed the tightness in my voice. ‘I sent out a mass email about meeting up and everyone was super excited. I mentioned I’d seen you recently and a few of them insisted I invite you, too.’

Oh. Not a date and not even his choice to have me here.

He is oblivious to my pain. ‘I thought you’d like to catch up with everyone!’ He smiles widely. ‘It’s been so long.’

‘Oh, yeahhhhh, it’s amazing! Sooooo nice to see them.’ I grin back, remembering how he used to be able to tell when I was lying.

‘And of course, I wanted to see you again,’ he adds quickly, grinning goofily down at me. Maybe he senses my disappointment with the situation because he presses a little closer to my side. ‘And I wanted to say—’ He breaks off as a gap opens up at the bar. The crowds heave forward together and we lurch simultaneously. Alistair lands neatly at the bar while I land in someone’s arse crack.

‘Jesus twat fuck!’ I shout, trying to stand up and only succeeding in elbowing several people around me. One of the elbow victims helps me up as I apologize wildly. ‘Sorry, lads, all my fault.’

I finally right myself, turning towards my saviour. It is a familiar face and I find myself audibly gasping.

Nick Wilde from school. And also technically from uni, since we went to the same place for that one term.

‘Esther Adams!’ he says with a smile as I gape. It is somehow more bizarre to see Nick in the flesh again than it was to see Alistair. He was such a weird-looking boy in the playground; short, scrappy, forever crowing in science lessons about his Puma jacket as Louise googly-eyed over him across the classroom. He’s so different as a grown-up: tall, dark, with thick-rimmed glasses and a somewhat unkempt beard he definitely didn’t have the last time I saw him.

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