The Girl with the Plan

22

"I'm so excited for this party, it feels like ages since we've had one."

Gracie stares at herself in the mirror, turning around to every angle to see herself in a white dress that I've already complimented the last seven times she's wondered how it's looked.

"I know. And at Larry's too, I'm so glad we don't have to go traipsing home though I hope I don't wake up next to you two again," I laugh, my eye wide open as I try to put mascara on. It's the only part of my makeup I do when I get ready with Grace. I'm ready to look amazing tonight due to her. She's finished my makeup and has straightened my hair, and I know she will force me into a dress I would never think to wear, that I will feel incredible in.

She giggles in return, finally smoothing down the front of her dress and sighing. As usual, she shoves her head into the wardrobe, trying to pick something for me to wear. Grace and I have similar builds despite looking totally different. She carries an innocent look, which most boys love to see. Wide blue eyes, and large puckered lips, alongside a bright blonde that she's carried for the past five years. Before that she was a dirty kind of blonde, but even then she was desirable. My almost black hair is a massive contrast, and its long, nearly down to my bum, unlike Graces' which falls just below her shoulders. My eyes are also big, but they hold a more Egyptian shape and have been described as chocolate brown to me many a times. Grace always tells me she's jealous of how I look, but I could say the same to her.

She finally chooses a dress for me and we set off, giggling as we wobble our way to Larrys in our heels. Nathan meets us along the way, standing between us and linking his arms through ours to keep both of our balance. I revel in being reunited with my close friends, since I lost my job I really have been working my arse off, having only a day off a week. It makes me appreciate my free time more, as well as seeing my friends. Even if I see them in passing at the pub it doesn't feel the same.

The house is full to the brim when we arrive, there's barely room to move through, and it takes us ages and three drinks down to find any of our friends. We eventually bump into them while smoking away. Since working on the bar, I have definitely been drinking less. It's meant I've lost weight and I've become a lightweight. I feel the cloudiness filter through my head with each drink I'm dared to down, or pour myself. And even the dancing isn't cutting the drunkenness tonight.

"She's here, and she's gorgeous."

I feel a hand on my waist and a whisper in my ear. I smile before turning around. I guess I'm not the only one who's drunk.

"Flirt," I accuse and he shrugs.

"How couldn't I be? Look at ya," he grins.

"Alright, that's enough. Now you're just arse licking."

Van bursts out laughing, much to Abbys dismay who stands staring at us. She's supposed to be in the middle of a conversation with Larry, but she's not listening to him- her ears straining to know what's going on between me and Van. I turn around to face him, and he disguises his hips being against me as just us having a harmless hug, but I can already feel the tension rising between us. He pulls on the hem of my dress, a cheeky lustful smile on his lips, but I slap his hand away raising my eyebrows at his behaviour.

"Do you want another beer?" he whispers to me. We've been dancing for a while, with a very drunk Larry and Grace who are both on the verge of falling asleep. Nobody else is anywhere near as drunk as them, watching as they stumble around the place, hands all over each other. Often they stop for a little snog, causing for Van and I to tease them profusely.

"Yeah, and a shot. I'm feeling the getting drunk drunk tonight," I smile and he nods, walking off to take my order.

I realise after a minute that I forgot to tell him what shot I wanted, so I follow after him. I soon am stopped in my tracks when I see him and Abby talking, hushed tones to them as some people litter around them, either making out or chatting away in slurs.