17. LUCY

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LUCY

Two Years Earlier

I don't party very often. There are so many aspects of it that make me uncomfortable, so usually I just opt out, let other people have fun while I remain the sensible one at home or by default, become the designated driver.

Jake believes I don't join him on a Saturday night because there are far too many people crammed in a tiny space, brushing up against me, falling into me, sweaty bodies touching me, but it's only one part.

People in my personal bubble is one thing, but the inability to answer a phone call, to be alert, to be fully present if something happens is my main concern and has been for years now.

It's just how I am. Anxious. And for some reason, I'd rather him continue to believe personal space is my only issue.

I've tried to explain it to him a number of times but he never quite gets it, always asking me what it is that worries me and becomes frustrated and unsatisfied with my consistent answer of, "everything."

I can hear Jake and Harry in the living room, their laughter echoing down the hall makes my heart leap and I'm reminded of why I'm in my bedroom to begin with. Sifting through my wardrobe I pull out the red silk dress I bought for my cousin's bachelorette party last year.

More laughter makes me move quicker.

Just having Harry around makes my nerves on edge. 

There is something about him, something that makes my stomach twist and my hands tremble, which I hate. I think it predominantly stems from the fact that in the last week, while he has been back in London to visit, he has openly decided that he despises me.

He's never so much as said it, but I can tell by the way he talks to me, never making eye contact and answering my million questions in short, sharp responses. I know by the way he scoffs over me tidying the living room and setting the table for dinner and putting coasters under his cups. 

Jake seems completely oblivious to it.

Maybe tonight will be different, now that Jake clearly doesn't need his approval.

My thumb grazes over my new sparkly piece of jewellery, the ring that took me by total surprise when Jake proposed to me with it last night as we walked home from dinner.

I still can't really believe it. I was so shocked that he had to ask twice before I spluttered out my, 'yes,' while he knelt in the street. When we arrived at our door, I opened it to find our families and Amy all gathered around the kitchen with champagne to celebrate. It was odd that Harry was missing, but Jake assured me it was because he had already planned to have dinner at his parents.

I agreed to go out tonight with Harry before he flew back to San Francisco tomorrow and considering he already has such a strong distaste towards me, I thought it best if I didn't argue and tried my best to be sociable.

Pulling the thin straps over the shoulders I twirl in the mirror, watching the delicate fabric sweep against my skin and I smirk a little at my rare sense of confidence. I love this dress, it makes me feel sexy and way more daring than I actually am.

My nails are manicured in an elegant french tip and I comb them through my hair and tie it up quickly in a twist. Taking one last satisfied glance, I hear Amy's voice as she greets the guys.

"Honey, Amy's here. Come on!" Jake yells and I swallow the bubbling anxiety that threatens to push through when someone rushes me. I've told him how it affects me so many times before, but he never seems to quite understand that it is counterproductive. I gave up trying to explain how I felt after a while, there's no need to burden him with my issues and now, I work on just trying to be as together as he thinks I am.

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