I turn to look at Niall. His deep blue eyes stare right into mine. Our faces are only inches apart and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. Maybe I’m reading all kinds of things into his expression that probably aren’t there: accusations, recriminations, apologies. Each one of them makes me yearn for things I cannot have. He’s close, too close. It’s as if he’s taking me over, nucleus by nucleus, and as with years before, my thoughts are filled with him.
Then our silent conversation is interrupted by the first strum of a guitar as it reverberates from the speakers, and I find myself breathing a sigh of relief. The excitement flowing through my veins feels more potent than any drug I’ve taken, and it’s laying me bare.
* * *
As the evening goes on I get progressively drunker, finding solace in the bottom of a beer bottle and each popping of a new cap. Lara watches me with worried eyes and I flash her the occasional reassuring smile, trying to let her know that my inebriation has nothing to do with substance abuse and everything to do with avoidance.
By the time Alex’s band launches into the second half of their set, I’m dancing in my seat, relieved Niall has moved into one of the now-vacant stools across the table, giving me space to breathe, to move, to be. My skin still tingles with the memory of his closeness, and it’s giving me an artificial high. Being near him makes me feel as though I’m nineteen again. I love and I hate it.
“You okay?” Lara pulls her chair close to mine. “You’re not acting like yourself.”
“I’m good. Great.” I flash her another smile. It doesn’t wipe away the worried expression on her face.
“You don’t usually drink this much. Not recently, anyway.”
“I don’t usually have to sit next to Niall Joseph.” I regret the words as soon as they escape from my lips. Lara angles her head to the left, scrutinising me through sober eyes. I fidget beneath her gaze.
“What’s going on, Beth?”
I glance across at Niall. He’s talking to a friend of Alex’s. He looks so comfortable, so easy-going. He has this aura about him that draws you in. Luckily, he’s far enough away from me to talk about him without him overhearing.
“I’m fucked,” I admit, resting my head in my palms.
“What’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing.” I laugh harshly. “Not now.”
Her eyes widen. “When? Did something happen at the clinic?”
I shake my head. I’m not trying to be enigmatic, I’m just finding it hard to get the right words. “Before. At university.”
Lara knows my history. She knows me. “Niall? He’s the one who...” Her voice trails off. She doesn’t need to say anything else, we both know the rest of her sentence. I nod my head vigorously. She lifts up her glass and downs the remains of her Coke. “Oh shit.”
I follow suit and finish my fourth bottle of Peroni. The beer’s grown warm where it’s been standing for a while, but I swallow it anyway. I like the buzzed feeling it gives me; it’s so much better than panic and nervousness.
“Why didn’t you say something before?” Lara hisses. “You should have told me.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“But you can’t. Not on your own. That whole situation, the memories, the feelings. Oh, Beth...” She trails off again as Alex walks over and kisses her, biting her lip as if she’s afraid to say anything. From the way the rest of the guys are laughing with Niall, they have no clue what’s happening here. I’d like to keep it that way.
“Later.” I promise. The way she looks at me tells me she’s going to hold me to that.
The party carries on into the night. We’re thrown out of the bar at one in the morning, and find ourselves walking back to Lara and Alex’s flat. Even in the early hours the city seems alive, the streets pumped with energy and expectation. Alex and Lara have gone ahead in the van carrying the band’s instruments, leaving me with a few of their friends... and Niall Joseph. He’s wearing a slate-grey hoodie, zipped to the neck, along with faded jeans and Nike Airs. It seems strange to look at him and know that I was once in love with this guy, that I spent hours beneath him and on top of him and beside him. Sometimes we were so high we couldn’t work out which body part belonged to whom.
“How did you end up working at the clinic?” he asks.
“I started as a volunteer. Then I was lucky enough to be offered a job. It doesn’t pay much but I love it.” I shrug. I can’t even be bothered to pretend I don’t know him anymore. I’m too drunk for that.
“I guess you don’t need the money—with a rich husband and all.” His word sting. I look up at him in confusion. He’s staring down at me with those narrow eyes again.
“I didn’t marry him for his money,” I reply.
“So why did you?”
The others have moved farther ahead. We are lagging behind. I find myself shrinking away from him. “Because Simon takes care of me. He’ll never hurt me, he loves me.” I don’t need to add anything else; the implication is there. He’s everything that Niall wasn’t. Back when I needed him the most.
When he needed me.