Part 23 (2/2)

”Ruby Kalinski. Er, eighteen. No, sure, use my picture however you want.”

They tell me I'm done, but as they faff finding the right filter or whatever, Feather Head tells me to keep an eye on the Festblog feed. ”A few of these street-style snaps go up there.”

Ugh. Festblog. Maybe I was a little hasty giving permission, but it's too late now my hyperactive photographers have already started walking off. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? I didn't have my a.r.s.e hanging out or anything and it's not like I'm Megan Mallory or someone actually famous.

Kaz is back at the table, but before I get there, I see Lauren laughing, resting her arm on my mate's shoulder; my feet slow to a stop and I can't seem to get them going again. At least, not in that direction.

At the bar, it dawns on me that no one in here will believe my lie about being eighteen. The women look magnificent they're all seven-foot tall and wearing lipstick, both of which automatically make you look older. Standing on my tiptoes and swiping on some Vaseline is not going to cut it. Or grease it.

I turn back and walk straight into someone holding a full pint.

”s.h.i.+t!” I'm not sure which of us said it the loudest.

”I'm so sorry can I get you another one? Only, I don't think I'll get served and I don't have my ID on me, so could you...?”

My voice trails off when I realize who I'm gibbering at Kaz-style.

Adam Wexler stops angry-frowning and starts thinking-frowning.

”I asked you to sign my belt,” I say. Then I point helpfully to my crotch. Awesome.

”The girl with the ex-boyfriend.”

”Could be anyone, that, couldn't it?” I say.

”But it's you I'm talking to.” He touches my shoulder, gently turning me towards the bar and guiding me forwards. I do my best not to faint. ”How about we procure a drink and you tell me how successful you've been at getting your own back?”

”Well, I've not revenge-snogged anyone yet,” I say, trying to hold my nerve.

Wexler lowers his head so that his mouth is next to my ear as we approach the bar.

”Yet,” he says, quietly, leaning away to order two beers.

KAZ.

The band are funny, especially Nick, who is fantastic at impressions and is currently circling the picnic table in a perfect ”Moves Like Jagger” dance, leaving all of us in st.i.tches. The others start begging him to do an impression of Adam Wexler and I glance at my phone to find there's a message from Ruby.

Have found a hot boy. Will come find you before GT. K? X I message back. Picture?

She resends the Adam Wexler photo she found on Tumblr.

I meant a picture of the one you're with, idiot.

Be patient. You'll see him later anyway. Hope you're making good progress with S.

My eyes slide to meet Sebastian's and my heart accelerates to triple time. There isn't much time between now and when we'll need to leave to join the crowd for Gold'ntone we need to get in early if we want to make it to the front before they come onstage.

”Do you want to come and watch Gold'ntone with us?” I ask, edging closer, not wanting to discuss this with all the others as well.

”So you're a Gold'ntone fan, then?” Sebastian doesn't quite answer my question and I get cold feet that maybe he doesn't like them and somehow I'm horribly uncool, which is why I answer only half truthfully.

”Not as much as Ruby.”

”Your other friend.” He nods, looking round for her, even though she's not here for him to see. It feels odd to have Ruby referred to as ”other”.

”Ruby and I came here together. She's my best friend.” Sebastian looks at Lauren and raises his eyebrows in question. ”Lauren is ... new to the group.”

His focus sharpens. ”You seem like you've known each other a while.”

I laugh at this, a little embarra.s.sed about how short that while actually is. ”She's going out with one of my friends.”

”Boy friend or girl friend?”

”Ex-boyfriend, actually.” Sebastian watches me, but I don't know what it is that he's thinking and I look away as I add, ”You're thinking that's pretty weird, I suppose.”

”I'm thinking that you're pretty, Kaz.” And I glance up to see him studying me. ”That's all I was thinking.”

He still hasn't answered my question about Gold'ntone.

RUBY.

Our cups are empty.

”Your shout, Ruby.” Wexler nudges my foot with his toe.

”Yeah ... about that...”

”You're not eighteen, are you?” Wexler leans in, one elbow resting on the table, his face not far from mine. Breathing is very difficult, but I try not to act too fl.u.s.tered. It's the first time he's asked a serious question, and I guess it's the kind that needs a serious answer.

”More like sixteen.” I concentrate on holding his gaze, making sure he knows I'm old enough to handle another beer. And myself.

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