I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Twenty-Two

'It's a Christmas gift.'

'That reminds me, here.' From the back seat he produced a small, badly wrapped box.

'You got me something?' My tone was one of dismay because...well, I was dismayed.

He shrugged, 'Just a trifle, really.'

'I didn't get you anything.' I was embarrassed about that even though there had been no reason for me to buy anything for him, as we hadn't seen one another in months.

'That's all right. I was out yesterday and saw it and thought of you.' He paused before adding, 'I've thought of you a lot, actually.'

'Oh...well...' I wasn't going to lie and say I'd thought of him when I hadn't. I unwrapped the box and opened it to reveal a silver bookmark engraved with the quote, "We are all born for love. It is the principle of existence and its only end."

'I know you like reading and thought maybe you'd be able to use it. I don't know who said it, though it's an interesting thought.'

'Benjamin Disraeli. Thank you, Robert, I'll definitely use it.'

He smiled at me and returned his attention to the road.

'How many people did you invite to this little shindig, anyway?' I wanted to know so I could mentally prepare myself.

'It really wasn't an "invitation" sort of do. More of a "hey come to our bash and bring all your friends" deal.'

'Oh.' Oh. My. God.

'The rowing team will definitely be there and some people from the hockey club and the rugby team. Even some blokes from the Cheetahs.' He caught my questioning expression and explained, 'They race motorbikes.'

'Ah.' I turned my face to the darkened window and contemplated my fate. Not only was it a university party, but there were going to be loads of athletes there with their girlfriends, no doubt. I was suddenly struck by the thought that other people might think Robert and I were together. I considered telling him this wasn't a date, but figured that was pointless. Instead I focused on the fact that it would only be a few hours and if nothing else I could use the evening as inspiration for a story or something. Maybe about a serial killer who only does in big parties of athletes and their girlfriends.

Robert asked, 'Are you all right over there, or are you pouting already?'

'I'm just thinking. Am I not allowed to do that?'

'Geez, Miss Snippy. You're so moody.'

I did rather seem to have rather violent mood swings around him for some reason.

As we drew up outside a three-storey house he said, 'We're on the second floor, though everyone has pitched in for the party tonight, so the whole house is ours.'

'Oh, that's nice for everyone.' I was a bit relieved by that, as there would be more places for me to run away to. If we were stuck in some tiny flat there'd be nowhere to hide.

When we walked in the front door several people held up plastic cups and called, 'Robert!' in unison and I wondered what I had offered myself up to.

Robert pointed out people round the room and introduced them in rapid succession, which is why I can't recall any of their names now. I waved to everyone and hoped my smile didn't appear as forced as it felt. I recall an assortment of similar looking guys, talking to each other and an assortment of equally similar looking women talking amongst themselves. Except the sexes hadn't bothered to segregate themselves so the men were conversing about the latest scores to one another over the heads of the women, who were leaning around the guys to tell one another where they bought their outfits. Everyone was holding plastic cups and some of the women were slightly moving to the beat of the electronic music being played somewhere else in the house. I instantly left the situation. My body remained there, but inside my head I was pulled out of the room, as though I were watching a film. I felt invisible, not an unpleasant or unusual feeling for me, except I had to keep reminding myself that I wasn't invisible and that I was expected to participate rather than simply observe. Not that there was an awful lot happening: just people talking about nothing important over loud music, slowly getting pissed.