Chapter Twelve

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I can't completely remember how, but we end up at a gay nightclub. We don't realise it's a gay club until we're inside and spot the huge mural at the back of the main dancefloor's wall, with graffiti which spells out 'Belfast's No.1 Gay Club', but it's the most fun I've had since I can remember. If anything, I'm annoyed at myself for being a whole nineteen--No, wait, a whole twenty-years-old without ever visiting one until now. The girls love it too. No drunk perverts trying to touch them here, there and everywhere, apparently.

The best part is that when I run up to the DJ and request she play Dropkick Murphys, merely two songs later, I'm Shipping Up To Boston is blasting across the dancefloor. I would say my response is to start dancing, but it's more of an inebriated, manic convulsing than it is dancing. Carmen and Tom join in immediately, and while Ava and Jamie take a little more convincing, by the time the vocals kick in, even Jamie is sort of joining in. It's a half-arsed attempt, don't get me wrong, but by his standards it's practically the equivalent of starting a dance battle.

I'm sitting on the ground of the smoking terrace trying to cool off when I spot Ava emerging from inside the club wearing, for some bizarre reason, a pair of sunglasses. I wave at her maniacally, and when she faces me, her eyebrows raise underneath her round glasses.

"Groovy, you're not dead. Carmen owes Tom ten pounds," she comments as she drops down beside me, and crosses her legs. I respond with a blank expression, so Ava elaborates. "He bet you'd run away from the group without telling anyone at some point tonight. I did warn Carmen you have a track record for this type of thing, but she has too much faith in you."

"You're telling me." I laugh, but it comes out more like a chortle. "Can I try your sunglasses?"

Ava pulls the glasses off her face, and places them on top of my nose. "The lights look way more groovy with those on."

The lenses have a yellow tinge to them, but outside and away from the flashing club lights, they just make me feel more drunk. Not sure if it's a bad thing or a good thing. Ava opens her bag to bring out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, then offers me one.

"Ava Madaki, how scandalous!" I enthuse as I take up her offer before realising I made this mistake before with her mother. You'd think I'd learn.

Ava laughs as she lights her cigarette, then lights mine. "I'm not always straight-edge. Not that, whoa, having a cigarette is exactly unruly."

I take a drag of my cigarette, but within seconds, I'm making choking sounds. I'm even worse at this when I'm three shots, and four drinks down. Wait, or did we have four shots? I had one of Jamie's, so that makes five? Nah, can't be five. Must be four. Who knows? Ava starts laughing again.

"We should do this more."

"What? Watch me choke on cigarettes?"

"No!" Ava exclaims as she shoves my side. "Have fun." I respond with another chortle before Ava continues. "No, really. I'm aware more than anyone that I can sometimes be a bit too... serious. This whole thing is, whoa, stressful. Really stressful sometimes, and that's for the rest of us, let alone you." Ava takes a drag of her cigarette, and glances at the concrete below us. "You've probably noticed that emotional intelligence isn't one of my strong suits, especially with you. You just seem, like whoa, super happy and nonchalant about everything all the time, and I forget being so blunt and focused, and just... just generally serious isn't always the best approach."

I'm definitely way too drunk for a heart to heart right now, but I don't want to tell Ava that because I get the impression she's been building this up in her head.

"Nonchalant?" I start laughing, go to speak, but start laughing again. I manage to collect myself. "Nonchalant is probably the most left-field word you could ever use to describe me."

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