It's You [H.S.]

3.9 | You & I

The rest of the table have quietened from their previously drunken chatter. They can't help but feel a little sobered, quietly following this odd conversation.

"God, look at you... You're definitely not the broken little twiglet you were back then, are you!", he says unexpectedly.

She's taken aback and stares at him agape before swallowing thickly, and realising he must be pretty drunk. Feeling disconcerted, it's like she's sobered up instantly, but there's still a lag as she tries to make sense of his sudden changes in direction.

"Fuck, sorry", he realises he's overstepped and holds a hand up in apology. "I just cant help but wonder if she'd be like you...", he says, searching her face intently. "You were always so alike. She used to pretend she was triplets with you and Ollie".

"Yeah", Eloise smiles fondly. "I miss her too", she reaches over to squeeze his arm in sympathy. "Every day", she adds quietly. "Sorry. I'm a bit drunk", she mumbles, shaking her head.

Harry surreptitiously rubs a hand on her lower back. He doesn't know who she's referring to, but senses she needs the comfort.

Mikey laughs ruefully. "Yeah, me too". He clears his throat. "Anyway, what've you been up to? Last I heard, you were raising merry hell at Stowe...", he asks jovially, eyebrow raised in question.

"Ha!", she chuckles awkwardly. "Erm, I didn't stay there long. I, umm, just finished at Cambridge. I used to bump into your friend George's brother, Tom. Do you still see-?" she rambles on.

"God, you've really landed on your feet, haven't you?", he cuts her off abruptly.

The others around the table shuffle and cast glances in acknowledgement of the uncomfortable dynamic.

Eloise stiffens again, sitting on her hands nervously.

"Cambridge... Looking like this", he sweeps a hand up and down her. "Hanging out with celebs...", he gestures around them. "What are you doing in LA?", he presses.

"Just... Figuring things out", she says slowly, vaguely.

The extended silence and awkward clearing of throats around the table is broken as Rosie, unaware, drums on the table as she dances past at the head of a ridiculous noisy conga line. Adele, Lou, Lottie, and Liam follow past in formation.

"You coming back in to dance?", Liam slurs over his shoulder.

Before anyone can respond, Mikey whirls back around to face Eloise. "You still dance?", he demands. "Ballet?", he implores.

"No", she fires back, flatly. "Not since-".

"Well, that's something, I suppose...", he grits out quietly. After a pause he cuts his eyes back to hers and sneers, "Wouldn't be quite fair for you to have everything, now would it?".

She physically bristles.

"Mike-", Ben cuts in sternly, in warning.

He raises his hands at him. "I'm just saying-".

"Well don't", Ben snaps back, his tone leaving nothing to the imagination.

Eloise grips Harry's thigh under the table. He wraps his hand over hers and squeezes it reassuringly.

"Oh, it's alright for you, mate", he scoffs. "You've still got your sister".

"Okay, enough, please", Ben raises his voice. "Losing Sophie almost broke her, Mike. She's worked so hard for everything she's achieved in spite of that. You can't resent her for it", Ben defends her.

Her gut is shouting at her to remove herself from the situation, but she feels oddly frozen. Instead her hand tightens on Harry's thigh as her eyes dart around, as if plotting an escape.