“Yeah. I’d like that.” I smiled back, and it was sincere because as much as my heart ached to see him with someone else, I did want him to be happy, and to want him for myself was a pipe dream. I got to have him in my life as a best friend, and that would be enough.
Zoe gave me a smile too, and my own smile fell away because hers was full of sympathy, and I knew why. Yes, I was here on my own, but so fucking what? There were plenty of people here without dates. Thankfully, the bartender was quick, and before I knew it, I had my drink in my hand, and with a murmured thanks to Ander, I made my escape. I held on to the thought of being in the photo booth later this evening, joking around and having fun with my best friend, creating a memory of tonight where it was just the two of us.
As the evening wore on, I found some of my friends, had a few more of those drinks, and I did my best to focus on having a good time. And it was good for the most part, dancing and talking and drinking, everyone caught up in the high of being finished with school. We were all about to begin a new chapter in our lives, to become adults, which was both exciting and scary. We’d never all be together again like this.
Eventually, though, people began drifting into their own smaller, more intimate groups, and I found myself on my own, my other friends having disappeared. I made my way back inside to the dance floor, sending the decorative green confetti stars scattering under my feet. Right after I entered, the DJ changed up the music. Calum Scott’s cover of “Dancing on My Own” began playing…and believe me when I say that was the worst possible song that could be played at that moment in time.
Everything slowed right down. The atmosphere flipped, the lights dimming to a golden glimmer over the dance floor, and suddenly, all I saw were couples. I made my way to the corner of the room, suddenly sidelined. I didn’t begrudge anyone their happiness—far from it. But for a single gay boy who had to stand there watching the boy he loved dancing with a beautiful girl, knowing that boy would never feel the same way about him…
It hit me hard.
And when Zoe’s chin tipped up, her eyes meeting Ander’s, and he smiled down at her and then dipped his head, his lips covering hers, the lump in my throat was so big I could barely swallow. My vision went blurry, and yes, I’d had too much to drink and was feeling sorry for myself seeing all these happy couples, but Ander.
I was so in love with him, and he would never be mine.
As I stood there, unable to look away, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Turning my head, I saw the photo booth being dismantled. The booth that I’d wanted to use to create some memories with my best friend.
I felt my face crumple, and I couldn’t stop the choked sound tearing from my throat. Fucking hell. This was supposed to be fun, a celebratory ending to our days as school students, and here I was, on my own and more miserable than I’d been in a long time. I’d never been more grateful for the volume of the music and the fact that I was more or less out of sight.
We never got to take any photos together.
Fuck. I had to get out of there. Stumbling through the doors into the night, I breathed in and out deeply, desperately trying to compose myself as I hid in the shadows.
I stayed outside for a long time, watching the happy couples through the windows, forgotten and alone.
1
“Want a drink?
My best friend shot me his usual charming grin, and as usual, I pretended that it didn’t affect me. It had become easier over the years to hide the way I felt, to keep Ander firmly in the friend zone even though my heart belonged to him and only him. It was a constant ache that I knew would never go away, but I’d made my peace with it. Mostly.
“Please. I’ll get the next ones.” I returned his smile, shifting in the booth. We’d come back to our hometown of Bournemouth for the weekend, the place we’d grown up together before Ander had persuaded me to apply with him to London Southwark University, aka LSU. We were well into the second year of our degrees, but it wasn’t unusual for us to visit our families throughout the year—in this instance, we’d come back for my mum’s birthday, which was tomorrow. In the meantime, we were in Cloud, my favourite bar, close to the seafront, relaxing after the long drive here.
I watched as Ander charmed both the bartender and the woman next to him, but I looked away when the woman at his side gave him a blatantly suggestive look and slid her phone in front of him. It wasn’t like it was anything new, but it wasn’t something I wanted to see.
When he returned from the bar, he slid a glass across the table to me. “G & T, and before you ask, yes, I got them to add extra ice. And one of those lemon slices—I still don’t know why you like them.” Taking a seat in the booth next to me, he ran a casual hand through his thick chestnut hair, the muscles of his arm flexing as he did so. I tried my best to ignore how good he looked. His hazel eyes sparkled at me as his lips curved into a smug, confident smile. “I did good, right?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I picked up my glass quickly, taking a gulp. It was the little things he did, things that proved how well he knew me, that made me wish for things I knew I could never have. Yeah, he was my best friend, and of course, that meant he knew me better than anyone else, but—
I cut off those thoughts, locking them deep inside me, where I wouldn’t be tempted to access them anymore.
My phone lit up with an incoming message, and I pounced on it gratefully, laughing as I read the text.
“What is it?” Ander cocked his head, raising a brow.
“Noah. He wants to know if you know the best way to get tickets to Crystal Palace’s FA Cup match so he can surprise Liam for his birthday—but he’s said, and I quote, ‘You and Ander are coming too. If I have to sit through eighty minutes of torture, then you can come with me, and Ander can enjoy the match with Liam. P.S. you can pay for your own tickets.’ Then he’s included a load of emojis.” I turned my phone to show him the screen.
Ander smirked. “Remind him that a football match is actually ninety minutes, not eighty, and that’s not even including added time.” He paused, then added, “You can tell him that I’ll sort all the tickets if he wants, and he can just pay me back for his and Liam’s.”
I tapped out a reply and received a very unenthusiastic response to my reminder about the duration of the match, followed by a much more enthusiastic response to the part about Ander sorting out the tickets. Noah and Liam both lived in the student house next to Ander and me—and they’d been officially together for a week, although they’d been seeing each other—in the world’s worst-kept secret—for a lot longer than that. Almost since the beginning of the semester, from what I gathered. Liam was a footballer, as was Ander, and while neither Noah nor I played, I quite liked watching it, whereas Noah wasn’t exactly a fan. Not unless his boyfriend was running around the pitch in his football shorts, anyway.
“I still can’t believe I lost my wingman,” Ander lamented at the mention of Liam.
Another thing I should mention about my best friend—he was a bit of a player. His words, not mine. He loved girls, and girls loved him. I mean, how could they not? He was so gorgeous, tall, and broad-shouldered, with a body that looked like it had been carved by the Greek gods themselves and a face that literally took my breath away. In comparison, I was…well, ordinary. Nothing to write home about. My body was toned, thanks to my running and gym workouts, but I was definitely on the lanky side. My hair was boring—light brown and kind of wavy, and my eyes were…the best way I could describe them was a pale, watery blue. In short, I was the kind of person that would always be in Ander’s shadow, although he always took care to include me as much as possible.