“I c-can chake-it from-ere,” a drunken male voice slurs as a key slides into the lock.
Is that Byron?
“I better make sure you’re all right.” Either Keats got kicked in the nuts today or that’s a woman’s voice.
“No one’s ever all right.” The doorknob turns. “We’re also half left,” Byron jokes.
Their chuckles mingle into such a familiar camaraderie that I can guess who he’s with.
“Gawd. You and your bloody jokes,” the woman says as something heavy thuds against the front door.
A second later, Byron stumbles into the tiny kitchen foyer, his tall frame supported by a long-haired, slender beauty in a black skirt, strappy stilettos, and a fitted one-shoulder black top. I’m quite sure it’s Jada—Byron’s girlfriend of five years until he broke up with her to be with Isabella. Jada’s make-up is smoky around the eyes, lipstick faded like she’s had something to eat or drink, or she’s been kissing someone. I sneak a peek at Byron’s lips but he’s already got his back to me. The laughter on his face dissipates at the sight of his fiancée and her gaggle of friends in their sleepwear in the living room, drinks in hand.
“Hi.” Byron gives us a tiny wave, head moving as if he’s scanning the crowd for someone. “Am I in the right flat?” He turns to the woman beside him, who’s still wedged against his side. She giggles in response.
Isabella slowly gets to her feet. She looks at her watch. It’s almost three in the morning, something I’m sure she didn’t think to check until now. “Byron, what’s going on?”
“There she is!” he says, arms out to greet his fiancée but with one arm still around Jada’s shoulders, there’s not really much room for Isabella.
Isabella doesn’t make a move towards him. Instead, she crosses her arms in front of her, the expression on her face thunderous. “Are you kidding me, Byron?”
“I better go,” Jada says through an amused smile.
“Yes. That’s a good idea, Jada. Bye,” Isabella says curtly while the rest of us stare daggers at the woman who should’ve got out of here faster.
Jada slowly takes Byron’s arm from around her, saying something to him that’s inaudible to the rest of us before leaning in to kiss his cheek. He chuckles through a yawn, nodding.
“Yeah, see ya next sem,” Byron says as Isabella glares at his ex until Jada’s out their door.
She transfers her glare to her shitfaced fiancé next.
“That was a bit rude, babe,” Byron makes the mistake of commenting, one hand on the wall to steady himself. Isabella looks ready to explode, and if there weren’t witnesses present, she probably would’ve already chucked something breakable at his head. Or maybe that was just my parents’ style.
“We should go,” Mia suggests to everyone.
We all scramble to put away wine goblets and look for our handbags and overnight bags while Byron sits down on the kitchen floor.
“What were you doing with Jada?” Isabella demands.
I can’t help but eavesdrop as I slowly make my way out of the tiny flat.
“She took me home.”
“What? She just happened to be where you were tonight?”
“Yeah.” He looks confused at being grilled.
“And what was that about seeing her next semester?”
Byron hesitates. Isabella grabs a cushion from the sofa and throws it at him.
“What the fuck, Byron? We’re getting married next week and I find out today you’ve been seeing your ex-girlfriend?”
“You’re making it sound like I’m fooling around with her.” He’s speaking very slowly, arms lethargically gesticulating. “She’s a student at Gatton, how am I supposed to avoid her?”
“She’s a student at—Since when? Why didn’t you tell me? What else haven’t you told me?”
“Babe, I am so close to barfing all over our floor. Can we talk about this in the morning, please? I need to go to bed and sleep this off.”
“Yeah. You can go to bed by yourself,” Isabella replies just before we close the door behind us. “Mia, wait!”
Isabella runs out of her flat, catching up to us just as Penny and I are getting into Mia’s car. I get in the front passenger seat—the best place for my tall frame, and the shorter two get in the back. I consider offering to drive as the only sober person on board but someone on a Learner’s licence isn’t allowed to operate a vehicle if their passengers have all been drinking.
“Are you okay, chick?” Penny asks Isabella as Mia reverses out of the driveway.
“I just need time out,” Isabella says as she fastens her seatbelt. “Can I stay at your place, Penny?”
“Yeah. Of course. Maybe you should talk to Byron though. I don’t think he was doing anything with his ex-girlfriend.”
“But he should’ve told me they both go to uni at Gatton. If it was nothing, he should’ve been able to tell me easily.”
“Maybe he didn’t want you to worry, chick,” Penny persists. “You were all the way in the UK.”
“He shouldn’t have kept it a secret, even if it was nothing,” Mia says. She doesn’t seem to be slurring but I still wonder if the police would catch us or we’d crash.
Isabella looks out the passenger side window, and we sit in awkward silence.
“We should just continue our sleepover at my house!” Penny blurts out. “You guys in? I have ice cream and junk food at home. We can watch chick flicks and chat all night.”
“I don’t feel like chatting all night,” Isabella grumbles.
“This is exactly what you need, babe. If you mope and overthink this, you’ll just be more upset by morning. Come on. I’m sure Byron will be begging you to come back in
