Stars in Your Eyes (Queen/Roger Taylor)

9. Freddie

My eyes swivel to Skylar, who is still chatting with Veronica and Theo. She has a smile plastered to her face, but I get the distinct feeling that she spotted Roger the moment that he entered with his arm candy.

I walk over to Mary and hand over the bottles of booze. She shakes her head in mock disappointment, a wry I-told-you-so look on her face. "I'm going to fix this!" I say brightly, grabbing yet another glass of champagne from the table nearby. I'm not exactly sober myself, but fuck off, it's the final night of 1973.

"No, don't try to fix anything, Freddie!" she pleads. "You always make things worse when you meddle!"

I wave her off, determined to tell Roger that his girl is here. Heading over to where I saw him last, I realize that he and the redhead have migrated across the room. Now they're huddled in a corner, all over each other like this is some sort of brothel.

I look back towards Veronica and John, but Skylar is nowhere to be seen. I make eye contact with Deaky, who shrugs helplessly. My eyes roving around the room, I finally spot Skylar in the far corner chatting with Theo. She downs a glass of champagne rapidly and leans into him a bit, looking a bit flirty.

Continuing over to Roger, I manage to pull him away from the redhead. "Rog--"

"Freddie!" he shouts boisterously above the din of the party. "This is a cracking party, mate."

"The thing is--"

"When you said that you could outdo our last year's party, I thought you were full of shit, but--"

"Roger--"

"You managed to do it, I admit." He claps his hand on my back happily and briefly looks over my shoulder. I feel him stiffen and pull his hand away, a frown tugging on his lips.

"Fred?"

"The thing is, Rog--"

"Freddie--" His voice drops a few octaves, his tone one of someone who wasn't to be trifled with.

"I meant to tell you earlier--"

"What the fuck, Freddie?" he hissed. "Why is Skylar here, and why is Theo fucking Dormer chatting her up? He's probably slagging off The Who to her right now."

"Well, it was sort of meant to be a surprise, Rog," I respond. "I didn't think, um..." I look pointedly at the woman standing behind him, who's twirling a long piece of hair around her finger, looking bored. "Well, I thought it could be sort of a happy reunion, you know, since she'll only see you for the odd coffee--"

Roger rolls his eyes at me, and I can see him try to control his anger. "Do you think she's seen me?"

"Uh, well... everyone has seen you, Rog. I mean, you look like a ponce in that coat, and you've had your hands all over...". I lower my voice to a whisper. "Anyway, what're you going to do? Chuck your date out on the street just before midnight? I think you've made your bed."

"More like you've made it for me," he mutters as he downs the rest of his drink, his eyes roving the room for a bottle with which to refill it.

Before I can respond, I'm pulled away because a small hand towel has been set afire by one of the candles in the toilet. Once Mary and I have managed to put out the tiny blaze, she pulls me over to a group of people and puts a drink in my hand, likely to keep me from further involving myself in the drama.

For the next hour or so, I covertly keep track of the situation. For reasons unknown to me, they're both pretending like they don't see each other, instead choosing to overtly flirt with others and steadily get sloshed. Except they're both giving the other furtive glances and looks of longing and, in Roger's case, unadulterated lust. It's like a bloody Jane Austen novel here tonight.