Gorgeous✨

You should take it as a compliment 

That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk

You should think about the consequence

Of your magnetic field being a little too strong

And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us

He's in the club doing, I don't know what

You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much 🎶 

The drink in her hand made Eleanor realize just how lonely she was that night. Her best friend was getting married and she was so happy. It was a day before the big day and she didn't want to screw up her position as the maid of honour. 

As a matter of fact, she wasn't lonely. She had a perfectly fine boyfriend who was away at the club, laughing and having a blast like most of the people whereas she sat in her chair, drinking posh champagne and rethinking life. 

"It's agonizing to see someone so sad on a day like this," a familiar voice said and Eleanor rolled her eyes. Of course, she knew who it was- the oddly attractive best man of the groom who flew down to America from London for the wedding.

"It's agonizing to know that you've nothing better to do except interrupting my thoughts," she remarked, not even turning around to look at him. She shook her head at her own partly British accent that she was seemingly loosing for being in America for eight years now.

"Champagne?" he took a seat next to her, nonetheless. "Posh," he commented.

"I thought it was a very formal event," she said sarcastically. Eleanor didn't dislike him- she hated him. Not really him, she hated his guts, how nonchalant he is, how nothing seems to bother him. By others it would sound like jealousy but to her it was hatred because he was too cool. 

"As long as there are formalities to take care of," he reminded. "I mean, they're getting married without even a stag or hen's party!" 

"Exactly!" she agreed. "I had so many ideas- banners, drinks, strippers and just plainly getting drunk all night."

"Woah you did have plan," he noted. "You know," he started unsurely, "you could still get drunk though."

"Huh?"

"There's a bar with something stronger than champagne and you look like you could do some dri-"

"I'm off," she said and took off, he followed closely behind.

After a few drinks and meaningless giggles, it was okay to say that they were both pretty tipsy. Eleanor had felt loose and carefree after ages. She seemed to forget why she was there that night, drinking with a man she'd only met twice before and hadn't had many conversations with. Somehow, it felt nice to her- this aimless conversation on her friend's rehearsal dinner. 

"Where are you from exactly?" Eleanor remembered to ask.

"England genius," he sassed.

"No silly," she whined, "where in England?"

"Doncaster," he answered with a grin. "Now I'm settled in London though. What about you?"

"What about me?" she tilted her head.

"I can tell you're British too," he shrugged.

"Good guess!" she put a hand on his shoulder and patted him. "I'm from London."