Scott Kellerman

"Scott!"

 When she sees me, Evangeline hops to her feet, and my entire heart melts when my eyes are drawn to what's on them: pink ankle socks, spotted with little white stars.

She rushes towards me on the tips of her toes, but misjudges the distance between us, or the slipperiness of her socks, and almost start to slip about on the red oak floor. She panics slightly, and lets out a yelp as she sticks her arms out to steady herself on the first thing she can reach... Me. She hurtles across the smooth floor right into my outstretched hands, grabbing hold of my biceps when I catch her by the waist. Well, this isn't the reception I expected...

She lets out a blithe laugh, but her cheeks colour up anyway, and I immediately want to hug her for instantly dissipating any face-to-face awkwardness between us – either her or the guy who created whatever alcoholic beverage made her so carefree. Preferably her.

"Déjà vu," I smirk, remembering when I saw her almost trip up at Ascot. "I think your balance needs some work, Evangeline."

She laughs again, letting out a sound so merry and musical that I don't even mind when she steps out of my grasp.

"I didn't know you were coming tonight!" She shouts over the music. "Well, I did, but I only found out a couple of hours ago, but then I didn't see you, so I thought maybe you changed your mind, but now you're here! Hi!"

I blink briefly, trying to focus on the actual words she's said, and not on the fact that we're finally talking face-to-face, or on her soft, short, floral dress that's clinging to her svelte waist and then to curve of her hips, and leaving her smooth, milky shoulders exposed in the nightlight, and the fact that she was in my hands and-

"Yeah," I shout back, enjoying how close we have to be to hear each other over Post Malone, "we got a bit lost, but we made it in the end. It's a good party."

"Aw, you think so?" She beams, and up close, her carefree smile's even brighter. "We spent forever on the decorations, and the music, and then forever and a day on hair and outfits and all that."

She touches a hand to her head self-consciously, smoothing down the curly strays, although I wish she wouldn't.

"Have you done something with your hair?" I ask, like I didn't notice the difference the second I saw her. "Like, something different?"

"Yeah! Well, not really – I just never have it up. I feel like it makes my ears look fat. Sorry, I don't know why I said that."

She laughs, looking down to play with the swirly straw in her drink, and I laugh too because she's already beyond adorable sober, and this is almost too much to handle.

"I like your hair," I say, smiling before adding, "and your ears."

And you, I want to say. But 'friends' don't say that, so I stick with hair and ears.

"Well, thank you," she curtsies playfully, hiccupping on her way back up and making us both laugh again.

"Angie! It's almost your go!" Someone calls from the circle.

"M'kay, one sec!" She turns back to me with a gasp. "You should come play! We're playing Never Have I Ever Judged a Book, or something."

I raise a quizzical brow as I follow her. "Or something?"

"Mhm. I think the way it works is that someone says a 'never have I ever', and then we pick two people by spinning the bottle two times. Then, they have to drink if they think the other person has done the thing before.

It makes more sense when you see it," she assures me when she sees me trying to piece it together.

"Alright, I'm trusting you," I tease with a look a playful suspicion, enjoying her glowing smile that's focused on me and only me, until an adenoidal voice interrupts.

"O-M-G, Scottie?"

I immediately wish I'd ignored it when I look over and meet the eager eyes of Bonnie Wyatt – to call her an ex-girlfriend would be a gross overstatement. We dated for a few months in Year 10 because we rolled in the same circles, but things came to a natural end when we realised we didn't have much in common, my favourite movie being The Godfather, and hers, unironically, being Mean Girls 2.

The only reason we still speak was because she likes to play this game of 'will they, won't they?' in front of other girls, where she pretends that she still has a claim on me, and I pretend I'm not utterly repelled by idea of getting back together. Usually, I flirt along because there's no real harm done, but for obvious reasons, tonight I'm particularly averse to how she jumps up and clings to my arm.

"This isn't your neck of the woods, hon – what are you doing here?" Bonnie asks, her white-tipped stiletto nails digging into my arms.

"You know I'm always down for a good party, Bon," I smile tightly. "It's a party, isn't it?"

With a squeal, Bonnie yanks me along to her place in the circle. "It is now that you're here! Come sit with me, cutie. This round is 'never have I ever kissed someone of the same gender'.

Instead of scoffing both at Bonnie and the astonishingly regressive game question, I comply and sit by her because it's the easiest option. When I sit down, Evangeline and I catch eyes again, and as fast as a knee-jerk, a smile spreads across my face.

I give her a 'what can you do?' look, and she giggles and returns a playful shrug.

"O-M-G!"

I supress the urge to roll my eyes when Bonnie's slogan sounds. It seems the Bottle of Fate has chosen her and her best friend Fiona, who lets out an obnoxious high-pitched laugh that matches Bonnie's.

"Okay, which one of you pervs rigged it to land on me and Fi when you guys already know how much we hate talking about that thing that happened between us when we were drunk on the end of year ski trip!"

"Literally, you guys are such pervs," Fiona cackles along, the two of them thoroughly enjoying being the centre of attention. "We literally hate talking about it," she says even though they literally bring it up at every possible opportunity.

Tuning out instinctively as they giggle and tell the story yet again, I find crisps to munch on and people to chat to whilst trying to steal glances across the circle without getting caught. But thankfully, it's not too long before the story's over, the next 'never have I ever' is picked – although I don't hear it – the next spin is spun, and the Bottle of Fate has picked... me? The rousing 'ooh' sounds begin and the bottle is spun for the second time; when I ask what this round is, I discover that the Universe is sticking its tongue out at me, and laughing right in my face: this glorious round is 'Never Have I Ever had a crush on someone in this room'.

And with my luck, I know exactly who it'll pick next.

The bottle spins again, coming to an agonisingly slow end, but I can already feel in the pit of my stomach how this will go – it sways, then stops and wobbles, then... her.

We lock eyes in an instant. Our shared look endures, and doesn't move, like we're studying one another for tells, and I wonder if her smirk means 'yes, I have' or 'no, I haven't', or if her stare is a poker face or entirely unintentional. I laugh when she wiggles her eyebrows like a cowboy in a showdown, and takes a long sip of her drink, answering 'yes'. For a moment whilst she sips, I wonder if she knows that it's her – that it's always been her.

The crowd around us lets out its hoots and whoops, waiting for answers, but that doesn't change the fact that it feels like just her and I in the room, asking for one another's secrets.

What are the rules again? Drink if you think the other person has...

She holds my gaze, like she's daring me to take a sip. Naively, I don't. Maybe some part of me thinks that if she hasn't had a crush on any of these ruffians, somehow, someway, there's a chance for her and I. Maybe.

I set my drink down decidedly, and the rabble turns to her.

"Okay!" Dylan Seal, the self-crowned games master, calls out. "That's two decided decisions from each contender. Go on then, you two, put us out of our misery. Have you ever had a crush on someone in this room?"

"Of course," I shrug cockily, earning myself a few noises of intrigue. Evangeline looks pleased with herself, having guessed right. Then, Dylan asks her.

"Angie?"

She's silent for a moment, enjoying the anticipation, before she finally nods, holding back a grin.

"Drink up, Kellerman," she says, looking me in the eyes, and the crowd goes wild at her shy admission.

"Lucky bastard, whoever he is!" I hear.

Admittedly, my heart sinks a little, but her look, her accidentally flirty little smile as she narrows her eyes in the dark, makes me smirk right back as I sip.

The attention shifts quickly, and the group begins to squabble when someone points out that it's quarter to 12, and people are starting to ask where the birthday girl is – it's almost time to cut the cake.

'Who?' I mouth at her, emboldened by my beer. She smiles as she strides up to me.

"Huh?"

"Who's the 'lucky bastard'?"

"A lady never tells," she says with playful mystery.

"Ah, come on," I tease, "I'm good with secrets. I'm just intrigued – you don't seem like the classmate crush type."

I worry for a millisecond if I've said the wrong thing, or overstepped but she laughs, and all my worries disappear.

"All in good time.

I'm a lot more than I seem, y' know."

I know she is, and it takes everything in me not to give her a grinning beam right there, and tell her that I want to know it all – everything she is and everything she wants to be – if she'll let me in.

"Good to know," I breathe with a cheeky grin, in awe of the blushing girl with the flowers on her dress and no clue of how she makes me feel.

She opens her mouth to speak again, but her gaze shoots to the staircase behind me, and something else catches her attention.

"Babe!" She waves.

When I swivel around, all I catch is the back of Babe's bejewelled figure running up the stairs with haste, slightly ungainly in her new strappy stiletto getup.

"Where's she off to?" I ask Evangeline. "I thought she had to cut the cake and stuff soon."

Evangeline shakes her head. "It's 10 to midnight – she's probably off to do a grand outfit change with Caz before the big moment."

She starts towards the stairs to follow her friend, but turns to fan herself with her hand, playing the damsel in distress.

"I told you this hair and makeup stuff was no small feat!"

"I'll save you a seat, hero," I chuckle, and watch her stop – really stop – to smile a sweet smile of thanks, before ascending up the stairs. When she's gone, I take my last swig, trying to hide my grin behind the bottle of beer.