“Don’t worry, Steph,” Chris says as he stands, “I’m still not gonna tell anyone.”
Steph makes a show of acting like that wasn’t what she was going to say, before Chris leans in for a kiss, surprising her.
“My parents are at some wedding on Saturday night… If ye want to come over then?”
Steph raises her shoulders in a shrug, but can’t contain her smirk. She leads him to the front door and slams it in his face with a giggle as he turns at the bottom step to kiss her again. She presses her finger against the pane of glass and mouths ‘maybe,’ before running towards her room, where he can faintly hear her ringtone blaring. Smiling, Chris takes one last look at her retreating bum before hopping down the path. As much as he would love to tell Dave, or even write into the group chat that he managed to get Stephanie Davidson into the sack, he knows it’s not worth it. For one, he doesn’t trust his friends, not even Dave. Someone will tell someone who will tell someone else and it’ll be around everywhere, and then Danielle will definitely find out. He doesn’t want that headache, for himself, but especially not for Steph. She’s still best friends with Danielle. He has the excuse that they broke up over two years ago.
He’s not even sure how it happened. When Georgia and Jimmy returned that night in Granny Annie’s, Jimmy grabbed his jacket from the back of his seat and said goodbye to the lads before he sulked off home to his son. Georgia pulled up a chair triumphantly, but her smirk was quickly wiped off her face when Dave asked what the reason was for Jimmy having to go home. They had a heated debate before Jase suggested Sambucas. What followed was like an unexpected reunion. They hobbled down Waterloo Street, bar hopping and running into more and more people they recognised until they finally managed to squeeze into the Metro nightclub.
From there, there were more shots, Refresher Bombs this time, and dancing. They were all laughing and having a good time… That is, until Steph saw her ex-boyfriend, Gerard, and gave him the finger. His new woman rugby tackled her to the ground and the bouncers somehow managed to disentangle limbs, hair and nails to pull the two girls apart, just before they kicked them both out. Since the girls were nowhere to be seen, in the toilets or smoking garden, Chris went to make sure Steph was alright. He found her outside still hurling abuse at her ex, who was retreating with his new girlfriend towards the bottom of Shipquay Street whilst she walked up the walls, around the corner of the Millennium Forum. He hurried to catch up with her, draping an arm around her shoulder. They walked up by the historic cannons overlooking Foyleside Shopping Centre and both sat down delicately, managing to avoid the broken glass.
“What a – a – a – a wanker,” Steph spat between her sobs.
“Aye, I know. He is, he is,” Chris managed, head lulled in front of him, sleep, or the drink, threatening to overpower him and knock him out completely.
“I mean, did you see - the state of her? She was wearing wedges, for Christ’s sakes. And a - blue top with navy leggings, has she never heard of blavy?” Steph hiccupped.
“He’s a stupid cunt,” Chris opened one eye and looked over at her, although she was more of a blurred mess at that moment, “lettin’ someone like ye go. I used to think ye were too good for him. Far too good for him. Ye can do so much better, ye co-“
He never finished his sentence as Steph pushed into kiss him. Ten minutes later, Steph stood and did up her denim jacket, wiping at her bloody knees from being on top. Chris zipped himself back up, tucked himself in and took her hand before waving down a taxi, still easily done as none of the bars had closed yet. When they got to her house, she thanked him and kissed him on the cheek.
They didn’t speak about it for a few days, until she asked him round to hers to discuss what happened. They agreed to never talk about it, but their animal instincts took over and they ended up doing it again. Now, that’s the third time Chris had been over in a week, and he hopes it will continue. It’s just too good. Bringing out his phone, he sees that Steph’s ringing him. Smirking confidently, he answers.
“Wantin’ more already?”
“What? No! Chris, get back now. This is a mess, this is a whole fuckin’ mess. I’m just off the phone with Danielle, oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!”
Chapter Eleven:
“Another one won’t hurt.”
Ferguson looks like he disagrees, but nods regardless.
“You’ve twisted my arm. Just another pint then, early start tomorrow.”
McNally laughs and slaps him on the back, nearly making him spit out the drink he’d just lifted to his lips. He orders another two pints and looks up at the TV. It’s another few minutes until the 10 o’clock news and luckily no one has sniffed out the recent revelations and plastered it over social media just yet. He should be thankful. The shit storm is coming, he’s just waiting for the wind to pick up. Leaning his elbows on the bar top, he makes small talk with the barman. Jordan, twenty-something, has went from job-to-job the past few years with no real motive. Not someone he’d usually become friends with, but desperate times when you’ve moved to a brand-new city. If it wasn’t for Ferguson agreeing to go for a few cold ones after work, he’d have been stuck in his house with nothing but the TV for company. He hadn’t even got around to setting up the internet yet.
He’s grateful, he thinks,
