A Life Less Average

eleven

lewis 

My phone buzzed as Rebecca strode through her open bedroom door. Rather than following her through the threshold, I stood still and opened the message. It was from Poppy. 

"Lew?" 

I looked up. Nobody called me Lew except my Grandpa. 

Rebecca had crossed her dimly lit bedroom and was perched on the end of her bright pink bed. "Everything okay?" 

"Um yeah. I have to go though. Something's come up." 

Her smile hit the floor. Something crossed her face but she shook it away before it had a chance to properly form. "Oh," she said quietly. "Okay." 

I was still on the landing carpet, suddenly very conscious of my trainers on the light grey carpet. 

"Well, if you have to go..." She didn't finish her sentence. Instead, she closed the gap between us and shut her door firmly behind us, as though I didn't deserve to see it. I realised I had very quickly lost the privilege to see the inside of Rebecca Andrews's bedroom.

"Yeah," I said, "I do. Sorry." 

She was stood close to me now, close enough that I could see the small lines around her eyes as she narrowed them ever so slightly. A deeper lines formed in the space between her drawn on eyebrows as the niceness fell away. 

"Fine," she snapped, looking between me and the staircase, hinting for me to get going. 

"R-right." I skipped down the stairs. I was reaching for the front door when I remembered Paul. I couldn't just leave him here while I went off into town. Unless he said it was okay, of course. 

I hurried through each room, scanning the dozens of faces until I settled on his. He was talking to a girl I didn't recognise, their faces mere inches away from each other's. I almost didn't want to interrupt, but I wanted to leave. 

I tapped him on the shoulder but he either didn't feel it or chose to ignore me. I tapped again, harder, and cleared my throat. The girl he was talking to raised an eyebrow at me, annoyed.

"What?" Paul said. He didn't turn around. 

"I'm gonna go," I told him. 

He spun on the spot to face me. "What? Why?" 

"I'm gonna go meet Poppy in town." 

"The tutor girl?" he asked. I nodded. "What does she have that this party doesn't?" 

I looked down at the beer he was holding. Paul rarely drank alcohol, and the few times that I seen him drink a beer or two, he had become overly confident and cocky. 

"Poppy," I told him, as though it was obvious. That was the one thing that this party was lacking.

"Do I have to go?" 

"No." He looked relieved. So did the girl, who had gotten closer to him in the time we had been talking. "No, you stay here as long as you want. I'm not your mother, I don't care what you do." 

"Too right," he said, standing up straight. "Nobody tells me what to do." 

I rolled my eyes. "Get home safe, bud." I clapped him on the shoulder and left him with the girl. Tomorrow he would tell me in complete detail everything they had spoken about and if they did anything. Even a peck on the cheek was news worthy with Paul. 

It felt strangely good to walk out of Rebecca Andrews's party this early, with the climax of the evening still to come. But I knew what would happen if I stayed. 

Rebecca would be putting drinks in my hand all night, and at some point she would coax me back up the stairs into the bedroom that I should've known my way around from the tour earlier. She would push me back onto the bed, maybe take off her dress, and we'd make out. Maybe more. But Rebecca had never really been my type, which doesn't sound right because she is everybody's type. She's pretty, and sweet, and hot. And she wasn't stupid, which was a bonus. But she made a point of always getting what she wanted, and I didn't want to be just another example, another name to add to her list. 

The fresh air was cool and by the time I made it into town on the next bus, it was just before nine. I found the bar Poppy had told me about in her text and flashed my ID to the bouncer at the door. He barely even glanced at the picture, never mind focused on the small-printed date beside it. Nevertheless, I was in. 

There was a band playing at the back. A small crowd of people were bouncing about in front of them. I headed to the bar to buy myself a drink, and some time. Other than the coffee shop, Poppy and I hadn't been anywhere beside the Sixth Form library together. This was new ground to me. I didn't have a plan, or an escape route. 

I didn't go to bars. I was an early bird, not a night owl. I set my alarm an hour early every day so that I could run around the estate, or go to the gym. Late nights were a foreign concept to me. But being in this warm room, surrounded by happy people, the air filled with sweat and shouts, I could see why this could get addicting. 

The guy behind the bar was serving a couple of girls to my left when somebody tapped my right shoulder. I turned, expecting to be moved out of the way, but it was Poppy. I relaxed a little.

"You came," she said.

"Of course."

She looked different out of school. Gone were the oversized sweatshirts that drowned her small frame. In their place was a small black crop-top. It was black velvet, and there were small silver stars dotted across the fabric.  

"So you weren't busy?" she asked, playing with a loose strand of hair. I smiled, noticing that the same black scrunchy she always wore on her wrist hadn't been removed for the night. 

"No," I said, looking away from her towards the bartender. He made eye contact with me and nodded. I was next. Moments later he took my order. 

I wasn't sure whether Poppy knew about Rebecca Andrews's party, or not. They weren't friends, but it wasn't as though Rebecca's parties weren't broadcasted throughout the school.

"What are you drinking?" I asked Poppy. A beer or two would loosen me up. Maybe I'd actually be able to have a proper conversation with her.  

She turned around and pointed towards a booth at the back of the room. I noticed her friend from the playground sat watching us. When she saw me look, she waved, a delicate shake of the hand. I waved back less delicately. Of course her friend was here. Why had I assumed she was alone? No girl would go out into a slimy bar by herself.

"A bit of everything," she said, her lips stretching into a smile. There was a fuzziness in her gaze that led me to believe that they'd been here a while.

"And six tequila shots," I told the bartender. He nodded and prepared the shots onto a tray, alongside lime wedges and a salt shaker. 

Poppy led the way back to the table and I slid into her side of the booth. We were sat close enough for our legs to be touching and I was very aware of how short her skirt was. Even though she was wearing black tights, all I could see was her thigh against mine.

"I knew I liked you," her friend said, as she helped herself to a shot. She was sucking on the lime when she told me her name: Faye.

"Nice to meet you," I said. 

Poppy and I clinked our shot glasses together. We licked salt off our hands, drank the shots, and sank our teeth into the limes. It was straight up disgusting, and I had no idea why people drank tequila for fun. My mouth contorted into an inhuman shape and I had to fight back the urge to throw it back up, while Poppy wiped her hand clean and looked at me with her eyebrows raised. 

"Not a big drinker?" she asked. 

I shook my head, swallowing a mouthful of beer to remove the taste from my mouth. "No," I admitted. 

"You don't drink coffee," she said, "and you don't drink alcohol. What are you, some kinda nerd?" 

"Not just some kinda nerd," I said, feeling all my anxieties suddenly lift. "I am the king of nerds."