THE AFTERNOON QUICKLY spiraled into a lengthy night after messages of last-minute invitations had been texted through to the groups' phones. Callum (Freezy), who Evelyn had met at the last social gathering, and Chip were hosting yet another party at their studio in central London, where the close friends going out were currently residing. As soon as they heard the consistent ping of shared notifications, they shared a look. They were going.
"I need to go home, Arthur! Look at my clothes!" Evelyn argued as she stood up from her chair at the restaurant, gesturing to her loose trackies and shirt.
"What? They look fine!" He said calmly as he took a sip of his beverage. The blonde rolled her eyes before picking up her handbag and throwing it over her shoulder.
"Fine isn't good enough. Alex, you agree, right? You like fashion," Evelyn tried as she turned towards the man on the other end of the table. He looked up with wide eyes.
"What? . . . Oh, yeah no, what you're wearing is fine." Arthur leant back in his chair with a laugh and electrifying grin.
"I told you!" He shouted joyfully. Arthur Hill looked over at the girl, taking in her outfit.
"To be fair, I would change too," he said. Arthur immediately let his chair fall back down as his grin disappeared, a smile growing on the blonde's face instead. "Nothing against what you're wearing . . . but it's a party . . . with the sidemen . . . and you're a model."
"Exactly! Thank you. This is why you're the better Arthur," she smiled with a finger pointed in his direction.
"My pleasure," Arthur Hill said. He started to laugh when he turned to the side and noticed the other Arthur's dumbfounded expression.
"Hey! What the hell?" He shouted as Evelyn had started to walk away.
"I'll see you tonight, loser!" She waved behind her with a bright smile. Arthur sent her a look with narrowed eyes, but nevertheless, couldn't resist a grin.
Evelyn Bradshaw spent a good hour upon her apartment arrival picking out an outfit, changing, brushing her hair, and applying some light make-up. Due to her constant repeating of matching clothing and getting ready for her modelling jobs and recent sudden change of plans, the blonde was used to getting ready under time constraints. It helped that the adrenaline fueled by excitement and utter nervousness pushed her to straighten her hair faster.
She booked a taxi to get there on time. The entire ride there she was checking her phone. One minute. Two minutes. It switched into double digits, and her leg resided to bouncing. She let out a shaky sigh as she glanced out the window at the British citizens rushing through the city streets. Some were in suits, some were staring at their watches, some were racing past on bright green bikes. An old couple held hands. A young couple argued. A child fiddled with a doll as they walked beside their parent. All these people, all these lives, and Evelyn just drove by, watching them for a split second, only to forget a moment later and never see them again.
Arthur would find that interesting, she thought. He would. He found her interesting.
The ride took sixteen minutes and thirteen seconds; she'd counted. She thanked the driver as she got out, her shoes scuffing the cemented sidewalk as she shut the door. The car sped off, ready to collect another person, another life, and forget about the blonde that'd just exited the vehicle. Evelyn watched the car turn a corner, leading it out of sight. With a short breath out and a convincing of her brain, she forced herself forward, alone, into the bottom floor of the towering building.
She took the elevator up to the top floor. On her way up people had stumbled in and pressed random numbers before regaining their conversation with one another. Evelyn just mindlessly listened, eyes latched onto her white shoes, as they spoke of a man named Nick. He sounded like a douche, but then again, as soon as they walked out onto the fourteenth floor, Evelyn forgot about it all. The thoughts of everyone upstairs with drinks in their hands, dancing, overpowered every other emotion and sound present in and around the blonde, alone, in the elevator.
She walked out at the top floor. It was all one giant room full of bright lights, loud music, banners, inflatables, and both unfamiliar and familiar people. The blonde gravitated towards the first person she saw that she could recount, the woman having been standing at one of the two bars built into the twenty-seventh floor. She moved over, alone, to a place where she wouldn't feel so alone anymore.
"Freya?" Evelyn asked, her voice almost getting carried away by the sound of Beyonce's powerful vocals. The woman in question swiftly turned around, glass full of alcohol in hand.
"Oh, darling, hi!" She said sweetly while wrapping an arm around the girl in greeting. Evelyn immediately started to smile, her anxiety retreating.
"Is everyone here . . . you know . . ."
"With us?" The woman suggested. Evelyn nodded. "Yeah, bit surreal, isn't?"
"Very surreal," the blonde nodded as she admired the crowd from afar.
"I'm pretty sure I just saw Arthur walk over there with Chris and . . . God, someone else. If you were looking for him, obviously," Freya smiled welcomingly. Evelyn gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.
"Thank you so much, I didn't know if it was rude to ask. I'm so glad I bumped into you," she said.
Freya grinned as a soft spurt of laughter passed through her lips. "Anytime, darl. I'll see you later, yeah?"
"Of course," Evelyn nodded before watching the woman leave. She quickly turned around, ordering a drink with an extra shot. There were too many people for a sober Evelyn to handle, so she downed a shot of sambuca before sipping her alcoholic drink of choice. She left the bar, alone, for the first time that night. She followed the direction Freya had appointed her to with a hand wrapped tightly around her glass, searching for a certain brown-haired, chess-loving man.
"Evelyn!" Someone shouted first. She turned around with wide eyes, her sight instantly catching onto a head of blond hair. "Get over here! Arthur missed you!"
She walked over with a grin, playfully knocking shoulders with Chris, who, in turn, fell into the man beside him dramatically. The brunet looked up with annoyance as he lightly shoved him back. "Get off me, man," Arthur laughed before looking behind his friend, eyes suddenly brightening. "Lynn!"
"Hey," she laughed as he stepped over the beanbag on the floor between them, pulling her into a tight embrace. She giggled as he wrapped his arms around her back, letting himself relax in her reciprocated hold. Clearly he'd had a drink or two before she'd arrived. "Be careful, I have a glass in my hand."
"But I like hugging you," he hummed. Evelyn felt her cheeks heat up as she smiled to the point it sent jagged shards of pain through her skin. She tapped his back twice, letting herself stop and live without a single thought for a moment, before dragging herself back into reality and retracting her arms.
Arthur looked down at her with a drunken smile as she raised her brows, taking another deep gulp of her drink. Chris stumbled forward, eyes squinted against the harsh lighting. "Can I have a hug too?" Evelyn shoved his shoulder away.
"Go find Shannon, stupid," she teased as Arthur sent him a look he didn't see. Over the years, Arthur had found himself to lack a filter when he passed over the boundary of being classified as tipsy. One time he'd woken up and been told he'd punched a rose bush after one of the leaves had brushed his shoulder. His knuckles remained cut for a week and a half.
Chris soon left the two, alone, while muttering something about not being stupid beneath his breath.
"Can we go outside?" Arthur asked softly. Evelyn nodded before downing the rest of her drink and leaving it on the table behind them.
"Lead the way, Frederick," she said with a nod. He shot her a confused look as he started walking towards the line of windows in front of them.
"That's my last name," he mumbled. Evelyn laughed as she held onto his elbow so she didn't fall too far behind. He spared a look behind him before allowing his hand to move and find her own.
She looked down at their intwined fingers for just a moment. His palm was cold, freezing, but the warmth radiating from her own skin quickly heated it up. "Nice one, Sherlock."
"Shut up," he laughed as he opened the door, allowing her past first. They soon let go of each other's hands, Arthur's quickly regaining the below-average temperature, as they leant up against the railed fencing on the edge of the spacious balcony.
It was quieter outside, the honks from cars beneath them and the faint sound of music and talking being all that filled their buzzing ears. Evelyn closed her eyes, allowing the wind to blow her blonde hair behind her and away from her bright cheeks. She let out a breath. It fogged up and mixed with the polluted air. Slowly, her touch grew tingly and her mind grew slightly fuzzy. The alcohol was hitting her.
"You look nice," Arthur said as he stared at her, elbows leaning against the top of the railing. She smiled brightly, yet her sight remained focused forward.
"Thank you," she said gratefully. Arthur didn't look away, he never looked away. He could feel the soft wind speaking into his ear. Do it, it said ever-so-softly. It's now or never. He knew, realistically, that it was the alcohol talking. He knew that when he would wake up there was a chance he'd forget about it, or regret it, or thank everything in his life for letting it happen. It was a risk, a risk he thought was more severe than reality, but he was drunk. You're drunk, he told himself as he allowed his hand to slide up her right cheek, finally causing her to look over at him and away from the dark skyline.
Evelyn was surprised to feel something other than the wind caress her cheek. She widened her eyes with surprise when she felt his touch but gently relaxed when her eyes locked with his own. They just stared for a second or two, not daring to move, not daring to break a possibility. Everything was a possibility. To them, both of them, they were a possibility. A possibility waiting to be explored, shouting out their names within their darkest dreams. But worry and fright were controlling.
The possibility of ruining something. The possibility of forgetting. The possibility of losing one another. Losing it all. That was the risk - a risk one was more willing to take than the other, but would quickly flip, because almost as soon as Arthur had pressed his soft lips to the blonde's, he'd pulled away.
Evelyn was only just opening her eyes again, coming to terms with what had just occurred - a memory she thought would only ever be located within her wildest daydreams - when he turned around and started to walk away.
"Arthur," she muttered as he neared the distance towards the door leading inside. He stopped, halting in his steps for her words; words that never came, because worry and confusion were controlling. They took other emotions, laughed at them, and tossed them over their shoulders. Evelyn was too scared that what she'd say would ruin something that was already ruined, because Arthur continued towards the door, yanked it open, and let it close behind him as he disappeared into the crowd. Evelyn was left, alone again, outside.
However, she hadn't seen his face. He had furrowed brows nearing his squinted eyes, a frown so deep it almost dropped away from his chin. His skin was taut, jaw pulled and tightened. He was inwardly slapping himself, the wind's words of affirmation and longing swiftly changing to that of disappointment and anger. Go back, they said. Go back and fix what you just broke. That time he didn't listen. He told himself he shouldn't have listened.
"Arthur!" Cam cheered as the brunet sped past, not even sparing the man a glance. "Come get a . . . drink," he trailed off upon realising that the man wasn't stopping for anyone. He furrowed his brows before standing up on the legs of his barstool, peering over the heads of those in the crowd as he studied the area in the direction Arthur had came from. Instantly, he knew, as he watched a saddened baker with bright blonde hair solemnly gaze at the door before turning the other way, walking down the balcony. Cam frowned for the first time that night as he witnessed her walk away, alone.
"Arthur, wait!" George shouted. He'd seen the boy ignore Cam from afar, so he quickly placed his drink on the table he was sitting near and stood up, approaching the man's line of sight. He grabbed the man's shoulder, forcing him to stop.
"What?" Arthur asked, his voice jagged and rapid. George faltered for a moment, allowing his friend's venomous tone to slice the air between them.
"What's up with you?" He asked with furrowed brows. He tried to smile, letting a joking laugh slip through his lips, but he quickly stopped upon recognising the lack of enjoyment on Arthur's face.
"Can you give . . . give Evelyn a ride home?" He asked. That was when George truly stopped, letting the sentence sink deep into his buzzing brain. Evelyn. Not Lynn. Not Evie. Just Evelyn. George gulped.
"Yeah, okay, but what's wrong?" George asked genuinely, the feeling of alcohol coursing through his blockaded thoughts simmering away for a few minutes. He watched Arthur look away, thinking, before he let his sight settle on the elevator doors.
"Me."
George watched helplessly as his friend quickly walked away, his hand falling away from the man as his figure swiftly took off towards the exit.
"What's up with him?" Alex asked as he walked over, standing beside George. He didn't answer, only sparing a look over his shoulder at the man at the bar. Cam met his eye, cocking his head towards the balcony outside. They knew.
That night, late that night, after Evelyn had arrived at home and settled in bed, her phone buzzed. It was sitting face-down on her nightstand, and due to that, she refused to turn over and look. Her thoughts were plaguing her every move, yet she refused to succumb to their wishes. She went to sleep, an hour later, without glancing at the message on her phone.
CHESS GUY <3
hey, hope you got home safe.
sorry about leaving without
saying goodbye or anything,
thought something came up but
it was just a false alarm.
just wanted to say that i was
drunk and didn't mean to kiss
you.
it was a mistake.
i'm sorry for messing shit up.
delivered 2:33am