It May Rain

Chapter Two

Within a couple of hours I'm smashed, but that's what you get when you mix a party-deprived twenty two year old and unlimited free drinks.

Chantelle is mingling with Jacko and a few people who I vaguely recognise from the other office. I could go over and join them, but then remembering how much of a struggle it was to converse with her at the dinner table I have second thoughts. After I bled the topic of social media dry, I moved on to fashion talk since I thought it'd be something she's into, but she was more interested in her phone screen than me.

Perhaps we won't be office besties after all. At least I tried, though.

But it's been the same story whenever I've tried to bond with any of my colleagues. I simply have nothing in common with any of them. I get on fine with them (including Chantelle because we hardly talk) but there's so much of my personality I have to hold back with them because they just wouldn't get my references to modern pop culture, or what it's like to be a young woman in a city as metropolitan as London.

Which is why plying myself with alcohol, as it's the only way I'm going to find tonight tolerable.

I haven't been on a night out with my hometown friends for so long, and I'm still trying to find a friend circle in London to be able to do that with. I've been out for after work drinks with some of my colleagues a few times, but it's not the same as being out with a group of girls who have no inhibitions about getting a hangover the next day and zero responsibilities waiting for them at home.

The closest I've got is going out with my three male housemates who I'm renting a spare room off, but let's just say that we all have different definitions on what a night out should consist of, and mine does not involve a night in a pub getting high on craft beer.

The dining tables are gone and in their place is an open floor, with the lights dimmed and music volume increased to give it a dance floor feeling. It's filled with everyone from both offices, but mostly those from the larger west London office. Unlike my colleagues from the east London office, I only know a handful of people from the west London office through occasional email correspondence.

I've also had to go over there a few times and it makes the east London office feel like a slum in comparison. Situated in upmarket Chelsea, it's full of stuffy business orientated workaholics who take everything so seriously, and nearly everyone seems to walk around with a sense of entitlement. It's the company headquarters, whereas the smaller east London office exists solely to support the manufacturing factory that's housed in the same building.

I've had as many drinks as I can physically handle, but that doesn't stop me wondering whether I could force another cocktail down. The Irish cream cocktail that guy got me earlier was delicious and I wouldn't mind grabbing another one before I go. Which I most certainly will be soon, because this party is the definition of dull due to the lack of like-minded people to hang out with.

Even though the place is buzzing with people lost in their own little conversations, I'm not part of any of them. Just looking at them makes me feel lonely. Utterly and mind-numbingly lonely. London is supposed to be this glitzy hub for young professionals with endless opportunities for socialising, but from my experience, it's far from it.

No one wants to be my friend, no matter how hard I try.

I wobble over to the bar to get another drink in the hope it stops me feeling sorry for myself, but just before I reach the counter a man swoops in front of me and I trip into him, slightly losing my balance and forcing me to plant my palms out onto his chest to support myself.

Before I have a chance to work out what's going on the man speaks.

"Oh! I am so, so, so, sorry. I tripped and I–I don't know what came over me. I've had way too much to drink and I must have misjudged my steps and I-" Hugo squirms with awkwardness, his cheeks flushing a shade of red that's visible even in the darkness of the room.