A Pocket Full of Posies (Book 1)

Chapter Fifteen (Part 1)

As we walk into the pub, I'm surprised to see Jamie sitting at one of the tables near the bar. I can't focus on him for long though because the place is rammed. Within moments of stepping into the building, I'm sweating from places I didn't think I could sweat from. Laughter booms from all corners of the building, cheesy Christmas songs blast through the speakers at the bar, and I've never seen so many god-awful Christmas jumpers in my life. I kind of love it.

Ava grabs my arm and yanks me towards Jamie, and we sit down at the table with him. His hair is in its usual slicked back style, and it looks more like a dead animal than ever. He's dressed to the nines, suit and tie and all. I feel a little underdressed in my unwashed white t-shirt and secondhand jacket.

"Since when did you get back?" I shout to him over the noise.

"About half an hour ago, my aunt dropped me straight here," he explains. "Carmen's not coming, is she? I'd rather not repeat the trauma from last time you two were together in the flat."

Ava laughs, and I figure Carmen must've told her about that night because she struggles to hide the knowing smile that lingers on her lips. I've not really put much thought into what'll happen when she does return, and I don't even really know what I want to happen. I just hope it's not weird between us.

Jamie's still looking at me like he's eaten something sour, so I give him a wink, then say, "nah, we're saving that for another time to give you something to look forward to."

Jamie tells me I'm not funny while Ava and Annabel, who's found herself a stool beside Jamie, laugh at his blatant horror, and I'm questioning why I ever thought tonight would be a bad idea. Ava mentions drinks, and I briefly glance at Annabel to gauge her reaction, but she just shrugs. Go for it, she mouths. Well then, in that case, it would be rude not to.

Three hours, five vodka shots, and several beers later, the three of us have been joined by a group of Ava's family friends. Annabel's either disappeared or the alcohol has kicked in, and everyone's singing their best rendition of Fairytale of New York. I've always fancied myself as a bit of a singer, especially when I've had five shots of vodka, but the only spare person available to be my Kirsty McColl is Jamie.

"Mate, c'mon, it's literally our song!" I exclaim to him over the hustle and bustle of the pub. "They hate each other, that's the point--Well, I think it is. It doesn't matter anyway, it's fate, it's the universe binding us together! You get to call me a scumbag, and a maggot! I realise I'm more vocally suited for Kirsty's part, but I sound really northern when I sing and it just won't work, man, it just will not work."

"I swear to god," Jamie groans, leaning his head back against his chair.

"Aw, c'mon Jamie!" Ava interjects, having picked up on our conversation. "I did it with Steve."

Steve is her dad's friend. I like Steve, he has a beard. He told me food gets stuck in there sometimes.

"C'mon, be my Kirsty," I plead to him with big eyes.

"No."

"If you don't do it for me, do it for the Ghost of Christmas Past." I pause. "Oh! Ava, is there actually a Ghost of Christmas Past? I've never seen one myself, I have to admit, but there was this one who said he could predict the future. Ugly bugger he was, face looked like it'd been through a blender, but it was a boating acci--"

There's a sudden smash, and there's cold liquid running down my leg, and Ava's friends are saying something about napkins, but I'm confused. It's only when I look down to see beer seeping through my black jeans and a smashed glass on the table do I realise what's happened. Shit, did I do that? I don't think so.