Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC

18: You Always Have Me Humming in my Head, Just Out of Key

My fatal flaw is that I can't say no to Venetia. I've known since I met her, when I moved into our suite at Cambridge, that I wasn't going to be able to say no to her - not when she's as pretty as she is and as pitiful. Which is how I find myself singing karaoke in the library with Venetia.

I didn't know the words to Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears before Venetia pulled me out of my seat. I doubt that I'll remember anything I've sung after we finish given how much wine I had at dinner. But it makes her smile, and everyone scattered on the couches around the rooms claps when we're done.

I hand off my microphone to another of the Henrys, and flop down on the couch, next to Felix. Venetia perches between our laps, one leg over mine, one leg over her brothers - her right arm around Felix's shoulders, her left hand laid on my thigh. I wrap my free arm around her waist, and tuck my head into the junction between her neck and her shoulder, watching as the Henry who took the microphone from me starts to swagger as Flo Rida's Low starts playing.

"Oh god." Venetia laughs as an exasperated sigh leaves Felix.

It's very evident right from the start that he's not very good. It's made even worse by the way his British accent tries to mimic Flo Rida's tone. I huff out a laugh as he shrugs off his jacket, tossing it to a woman that I presume is how wife.

Felix is the first one to call it quits. "Alright, fuck this. I'm getting a drink."

"Me too." Venetia says, rising from her spot in Felix and I's laps. "Coming Evie?"

I stand up with them, fixing the straps of my borrowed dress. "'Course."

I follow them back into the dining room, leaving the library behind us, letting the noise of the karaoke fade into the background. In the dining room, the plates and silverware have been cleared away, but the bar is still set up to the side of the room.

Felix gets there first, pulling three glasses over from the side. "What do you drink, Evie?"

"Depends." I say. "What are the options?"

"Anything you want." He says, pouring himself some whiskey that looks like it costs five times my rent in New York. He starts on Venetia's drink, pouring gin, vermouth and bitter campari into the same glass, and swirling it all around a few times before handing it to her.

"Some tequila would be good." I say.

Felix grabs a bottle and pours me a healthy helping, and drops a lime wedge into the drink for good measure. "Alright?" He asks, handing the glass to me.

"Yeah, thanks." I say, taking a small sip. The tequila burns, just a little, the impact softened by the wine that's already in my system.

Venetia grins as she sips her own drink. "Nobody makes a negroni like you, Fi."

Felix scoffs, and downs his glass of whiskey like it's a shot before pouring himself another. "I'm sure you've had better negronis than that."

"I didn't say it was good." Venetia says. "Just that nobody makes them like you."

"Shove off." Felix says, but there's no bite in it.

Glasses in hand, we wander back to the library. The song changes abruptly as we slip back into the room, as I spot Farleigh at the karaoke machine, sorting through the selection, microphone in hand.

"Okay, well done Henry, that was great. Round of applause for Henry..." He grins as he finds the song he wants, and stands back up to his full height. "Okay now it's time to take things up a notch. We have someone here who is a very talented singer."

The intro to Rent, by the Pet Shop Boys begins to play. I turn to Venetia, already knowing what he's going to do before he does it, but she's only smiling, not recognizing the song.

Farleigh turns towards Oliver, that wry smile on his face. "He's your best friend and mine: Oliver Quick!"

"No, no, no...!" Oliver protests as Farleigh grabs his hand.

Farleigh only smiles as he pries Oliver out of his seat and presses the microphone into his hand. "Yes, yes, yes... don't be shy!"

Oliver stumbles forward, pushed by Farleigh, wide-eyed. "I don't even know this song!"

From the couch, James claps his hands. "The words are on the screen, Oliver! That's the best bit! That's the best bit!"

The first verse of the song starts, and Oliver starts to sing, a little off the melody, but smiling anyway. Farleigh sidles up to me, a playful smile on his face. "What're you drinking?"

"Tequila." I say, holding my glass out to him.

He takes it, and swigs some into his mouth before handing it back to me.

I keep eye contact as I take a sip, sure to place my lips right over where his just were. "You're cruel, you know. Making him sing this song."

His grin widens. "You know this song?"

"Yeah." I say. "My mom loves the Pet Shop Boys. She's always playing them around the house. Says they remind her of the 'good 'ol days' before she had kids."

"Harsh." Farleigh laughs.

"Either way, it's mean." I say.

"Shhh, he hasn't realized yet." He says, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it with glee as he watches Oliver stumble along to the music. I watch as Elspeth realizes exactly what song is playing, casting a look at James. The cheering only gets quieter as more and more of the crowd realize where this is going.

The music swells into the chorus, and the lyrics change on the screen. I watch Oliver's face shift as he reads the words, and the joke dawns on him all at once. He falters only for a moment before he finishes it off.

"I love you, you pay my rent."

Full of malicious glee, Farleigh whoops. "Whoo! You tell 'em!"

"Farleigh." Felix's voice is low. I glance over to him to see a glower on his face, not unlike his expression at the breakfast table the night after Venetia's moonlit escapade.

"What?" Farleigh mocks innocence.

Whatever Felix is about to say is cut off by Oliver. "This is your song as well Farleigh, come finish it." His tone is friendly, but his stare is anything but. A shiver runs up my spine just looking at him.

Still, Farleigh grins. "Only if you insist." He tucks his cigarette between my lips before dashing away, taking the mic from Oliver. He doesn't have to look at the screen to know the words, and he leans into the performance, dancing and spinning the wire of the microphone as he croons.

I puff on his cigarette as he looks over to me and winks.