Falling Away by Allie Little Page A

penitent glance he sends my way, I keep the conversation going. “I just felt … I don’t know, exposed. And you were pretty smashed. But I’m sorry I took off. I should’ve hung around a bit.”
    Riley turns to face me. “Don’t let it worry you, Sam. It was totally understandable. I was far from pleased with my behaviour, so there’s no need for you to apologise. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
    Relief washes over me. “So should we forget about it then? Forget the other night ever happened?” I say, almost pleading with him.
    “Forget about it? No way, Sam. I really stuffed up. I’m going to make it up to you.”
    What? I laugh nervously because it’s not what I had in mind. At all. I thought things with Riley were well and truly buried.
    He comes closer, staring me straight in the eyes. “I will. I’ll make up for it, Sam. You’ll see.”

 
     
    CHAPTER THIRTEEN
     
    Time turns slowly when you’re desperate, and rushes away at the first hint of dread. Friday arrives all too quickly. Gemma buzzes about how magical it’s going to be, and Emily chirps about her favourite DJs. Frankly I couldn’t care less. But it’s a night out I suppose, even though I’d rather be home in bed with a good book.
    “Ready for tonight?” Emily asks at the end of our shift. Her voice is all sing-song and musical. She’s wearing her short black party dress, cut-out at the back and scooping down just above her backside. The zipper at the front runs all the way from her chest to her thighs.
    “I guess.” I cart the last load of plates to the kitchen, rinse them off and clang them carelessly into the dishwasher.
    I change in the ladies, sliding into a tight black singlet and pulling on a heavily patterned mini-skirt. I sweep on mascara and layer on lip gloss, peering at my reflection. It’s okay, I guess. I slip money, credit card and licence into a nifty internal pocket, push my phone in as well, and leave my bag in the locker at Café Blue.
    Gemma bounces out of her skin when Tim arrives, all sun-tanned and tall, his skin showing through a perfectly placed rip in his jeans. Casually confident, he’s one of those guys who appears to have it all. And his mates would be perfect too. Because those guys hang together. Like attracts like. He wraps Gemma close in his arms and kisses her lightly on the cheek.
     
    ***
     
    As expected, the off-the-grid party is hell. Champagne flows liberally and moonlight hits the trees in spooky shafts of yellow. Wine barrels of ice are dotted everywhere, filled with an assortment of alcohol. I buy a bottle and sit with Emily on prudently placed tree-stumps. Discreetly sensible seating. Gemma and Tim cut loose to techno bass-beats pulsing through the trees. The strobe lighting offends my retinas and streams of smoke course through my lungs.
    Emily sparkles under disco balls hanging from softly swaying branches. Her face is full of wonder. And I can tell she’s torn, wanting desperately to dance but reluctant to leave me. But I don’t mind being a wallflower. I feel more comfortable floating on the fringes, anyhow.
    Tim won’t let anyone get close to Gemma. He just gives them the look and pulls her away. I can see how excited she is. All starry-eyed and glamorous, wearing her Charlie Brown hot pink dress with black glitzy sequins flicking light at the sky. It’s tight and very short. Strangely it doesn’t look out of place. Gemma can pull anything off when it comes to clothes.
    They’re savouring the party. Every glinting moment of it. Laurent Garnier’s Man with the Red Face blares through the forest. “Ooh I love this! Come on Sam, we have to dance. Finish your drink!” The saxophone jazzes wildly over the top while the electro just melts away. For the whole ten minutes.
    “All right,” I yell over the beat, downing the last of my champagne.
    “Yay!” she says, dragging me off the tree-stump through the forest.
    She finds a dell, dimly lit with fairy lights draped in the trees.