Page 45 of One Night With You

I peek my head around the corner of the front room, and Candice looks up from a tangle of wires and sockets, an empty shot glass at her feet and a radiant smile on her face.

‘CANDY!!!!’ I cry, and fall to my knees beside her so we can hug just as hard as Jackson and I did. We hold our embrace for ages, rocking back and forth and sort of squealing and making various noises of appreciation for one another.When we pull away, we fuss over each other – she’s already dolled up for the part and looks incredible in glitter eyeliner and glossed lips. I tell her so, but I’m not met with a compliment in return.

‘Thank you, darling. But … you …’ She gestures limply to my face. ‘Are you okay? You look …’

‘Knackered?’ I supply. I can’t fault a friend for being truthful, even if I’d prefer her to remind me what a sexy goddess I am so I feel good about flirting with Nic later. ‘I am, a bit, truth told. But good knackered. Working on stuff that makes my heart sing knackered. Honestly, it’s amazing. It was the right thing for me to do, for sure.’

‘I’m excited you could come,’ she says.

‘Of course! Did you think I wouldn’t?’ I’m kidding, but there’s a tiny movement across her face that suggests that maybe she did think I might not, and I get a flush of guilt for ever considering staying behind to help with the Amelie search.

‘I don’t know how busy graduates can be,’ she says. ‘I didn’t go to uni, did I?’

I soften at her. ‘I’ll never be too busy for you. You know that, don’t you?’

Her gaze has already wandered, looking around the room at what needs to be done. There’s no bed, no furniture, nothing.

‘I can’t believe you’ve kept this room free,’ I say. ‘Isn’t it costing you a fortune?’

‘Rather it cost us a few hundred quid a month extra until we find the right person than end up with some of the bunny boilers and psychopaths that have stopped by to see it,’ Candice says. ‘Honestly. But we think that French guy might be a goer for when Bao leaves, don’t we, Jackson?’

‘Yup,’ exclaims Jackson, from the doorway. ‘Everyone else has been très dull, and we knew we were having this big party and could do with the room so …’

‘So welcome to the dance room!’ Candice finishes. I take it all in: the blinds are pulled shut and there’s streamers everywhere, as well as balloons bobbing about across the whole of the ceiling – there must be seventy-five, maybe even a hundred, in silver and gold and red. It looks really cool.

‘And check this out,’ Candice squeals in glee as she stands. ‘If I’ve done it right, anyway.’ She plugs something in and it illuminates to cast stars of the galaxy over all the walls. It’s really lovely.

‘This room is for Spotify Roulette, as loud as we can go. The neighbours have gone away for the weekend, luckily for us. I just want everyone to really let loose tonight, you know? We were even going to use the bath as a big ice bucket for the booze, but because it’s the only bathroom we decided we’d be locked out of it for most of the night. You know what people get like with their small bladders when they’ve been knocking them back.’ And she motions having a drink, to illustrate her point. I feel my pulse quicken and my neck flush. I’ve needed a night like this. I suddenly want to already be backcombed and hair-sprayed to within an inch of life, wearing just as much glitter as Candice is, dancing the night away, drink in hand. Manchester is amazing, and I’m so, so happy there – but I’ve only just this second realised that I’ve also needed a night away from self-improvement and creativity against the clock. A night to just be free and dance.

‘Who’s coming?’ I ask.

‘Everyone,’ she says, like that’s detail enough.

Jackson says he’s going to finish the jobs list, he just wanted to let us know there’s drinks waiting for us in the kitchen.

When he’s gone, I point through to the other room. I can hear Jackson saying something about Jack Daniel’s – he must be supervising cocktail-making duties.

‘So. Nic’s here …’ she says.

‘Yeah,’ I whisper. ‘I mean, I haven’t told you this yet because it’s no big deal, but we’ve actually been texting a bit.’

Candice gasps, her expression strange. ‘Well, at least you’re replying tosomebody’stexts,’ she says, and she means it playfully, I think, but it comes out sounding a bit mean. ‘I’m only teasing,’ she insists, when she catches sight of my face.

‘You’re crap at answering your phone, too,’ I defend. ‘It’s not all me.’

‘I work stupid hours, don’t I?’ she says, and then waves a hand to insist. ‘Anyway, we’re together now. That’s all that matters. More details about Nic, please … I thought you were celibate this year?’

‘That rule is under advisement,’ I say. ‘But all other tenets of the Year of Me stand.’

‘I see,’ she says. ‘I knew you’d have some big epiphany because of what you’re working on. How could anyone try to find the lover of a ninety-something-year-old without having their heart melt?’

I shrug. ‘Exactly,’ I say. ‘I’m glad you understand.’ She winks at me. ‘And by the way – do you think he’s had a glow-up? Is it just me or is he fitter now than he was on Bank Holiday?’

‘I thought the same!’ she exclaims. ‘The earring, the cords, the fade? For sure somebody has had a word and dragged him into his manhood. He looks good for it. He helped zip up my dress earlier and said I looked fit and it actually made me blush.’

‘So what, you fancy him now too?’ It sounds girly and secretive, but I’ll be fuming if she says yes.

‘God no,’ she says. ‘But he’s not the same bloke who bought your sofa, is he? There’s something different about him. He seems a bit more confident, a bit more relaxed. It’s hot – but hot for you. I don’t care. Have you met his brother yet? Ollie. I quite fancy him, actually.’

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