Begin Again | ongoing

thirteen

The seventh shot is the worst. Sunny hates shots on a good day but her head is all over the place today so she let Fenfen talk her into it, and they did three tequila shots in quick succession until her mouth was on fire and she had to eat three slices of lime to get rid of the foul taste. Then, thanks to Fraser, two shots of some kind of citrusy vodka, followed by a gross mix of coffee liqueur and Irish cream. None of them particularly nice to a girl who hardly drinks, but the seventh – a foul mix of whiskey, rum, vodka and orange – leaves a bitter taste on Sunny's tongue that makes her gag.

"That's fucking disgusting!" she cries as she wipes her mouth, once she's sure she isn't going to vomit all over the bar. Lickety Split is loud and vibrant and the music is eclectic and her heart is full, and she feels as though her blood has been converted into pure electricity thrumming through her veins.

"But it'll get you buzzed!" Fraser yells back, clapping Sunny on the back. His tropical shirt is unbuttoned so low that she can see the scars on his chest, and he has enough product in his hair to make his floppy curls stand up straight despite the heat in the bar, bodies cramming all around them in search of alcohol.

It doesn't take much to get Sunny buzzed. She's pretty sure she was tipsy after the second shot and now her limbs feel loose, her mind more free than it has been all week.

Ravi trips over to them with five glasses sweating on a flimsy tray. All of the drinks are brightly coloured, each with a paper umbrella and a tassel-topped stirrer. "Don't take it yet or I'll drop it! I got you a pink pussy," he says. "I don't know what's in it but it sounded gay."

Everything here sounds gay. Fenfen wasn't wrong – Lickety Split is definitely marketed towards queer women and it's wonderful. All the staff are women, from the bartenders and waitresses to the security and the DJ, and Sunny hasn't spotted a single leery man in the crowd. Everyone here is young and relaxed, drinking with friends or kissing people who want to be kissed. It makes her heart sing to see a couple of girls sharing the same side of a booth, sipping colourful cocktails and holding hands and making each other laugh.

The three of them join Delilah at the booth she has saved, where she's chatting to Fenfen. It's a perfect fit for five, Sunny sandwiched between her four closest friends.

"This is exactly what I needed," she says as she takes a long sip of her fruity drink. It's the dangerous kind of cocktail, so deliciously sweet that she can't even taste the alcohol and it goes down as smooth as juice.

"Bad day?" Ravi asks.

"You have no idea," she says, though she's feeling a lot better now.

She hasn't spoken to any of them since she saw Astrid and Celeste, except to ask them to meet her at the bar. After leaving their house, she went straight home and blasted her Britney CD so loud as she tidied that at one point, the man from the flat next door hammered on the wall and then the front door and threatened to call the police. After that, she listened with her headphones and didn't stop until she had identified every single thing in her room that she didn't recognise. All the books and music are in a pile to be consumed over the coming weeks. Photos and receipts are in a box to be gone through to piece together her own timeline of events.

Ravi gives her a look. The kind of look she calls the concerned best friend, the one that urges her to talk to him, to share what's on her mind. The look she attempts to shoot back is one that says she will, once they're home and sober, but she's not fully in control of her facial expressions at the moment because the alcohol has numbed her lips. All she manages to do is stare Ravi dead in the eyes as she loses control of her straw and dribbles down her chin. His façade cracks, a laugh bursting from a grin.

"You're such a messy bitch," he says, throwing a slightly damp napkin at her. She doesn't question where it's been before she uses it to blot at her face and what passes as a going out outfit for her – a slightly tighter top, slightly fancier shorts. She's even wearing a bandeau bra, but only because her shiny sleeveless top is so thin that it outlines every bump of her areola without extra coverage.