Robin thought she'd be perfectly used to feeling out of her comfort zone considering how much change she had gone through in the last few months of her life, but it turned out she was still nervous as she got ready on Saturday night.

Even though she'd been perfectly confident in asking permission to go to the party, nerves had gotten the better of her that evening whilst she was getting ready. She'd taken her time doing her makeup, making sure her eyeliner and red lipstick were perfect, but it had taken her even longer doing her hair as it just wasn't doing what she wanted it to, refusing to hold any sort of curl and remaining as straight as it usually was. Eventually she decided to just twist up the front parts away from her face and call it a day, before dressing in a short checked skirt that came just above her knee and a black shirt, leaving the top few buttons undone. She didn't usually wear skirts that were so short, and that skirt in particular was one she'd adjusted herself, making her even more self-conscious.

She'd have probably taken more time over her outfit if she hadn't happened to glance out of her bedroom window and notice that there were people in John's garden already. John had mentioned that his aunt was going out, trusting him with the house alone, and the weather was thankfully not so chilly that they would be confined to just the kitchen and living room. The autumnal sun was setting, casting a dusky orange glow across their neighbourhood, and she knew with dread that she was going to be late if she didn't get going. She didn't want to be the last one there, not just because it would be embarrassing considering she lived next door, but because she didn't want everyone looking at her if she was late. It was bad enough she was still the new girl, she didn't want to attract any more attention.

With that, Robin took one final look in the mirror, deciding her appearance would do, slipping on a pair of black heels, and after grabbing the small present she'd gotten for John, wrapped neatly in brown parcel paper with some string tied round it in a bow, she decided to head downstairs. She could hear her mother and uncle in the living room, with what sounded like the news on in the background, and she braced herself, expecting her mother to insist on looking at her and making some sort of remark about her appearance, or maybe making the last minute decision to ban her from going all together. Thankfully though, she didn't even bother getting out of her chair, not even when Robin stood in the doorway.

"I'm off next door," she said, trying not to seem nervous, even when her mother looked round at her with an expression of vague disinterest. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, see thee,"

No one answered her, with only Albert flashing her a small smile, so Robin took it as her cue to leave, thankful that her mother hadn't protested. She'd been making snide remarks all week about Robin going to the party, and it would be just typical that she'd try and ban her from going at the very last minute. Not wanting to risk it regardless, she quickly headed into the hall, grabbing her leather jacket from the coat peg in the hall and unlocking the front door. Before she had the chance to make her escape though, she heard a small 'psst'  noise behind her, and as she spun around she saw Albert stood, holding up a cardboard case of beer bottles.

"You shouldn't go to a party empty-handed," he shrugged casually, as if he hadn't made such a nice gesture. "Try not to be back too late, but have a great time, alright kid?"

"Yeah, brilliant, thank you!" she smiled, taking the case off him and tucking it under her arm.

As soon as she'd taken the beers Albert gestured for her to go, so she took her leave, heading out the front door as Albert locked it behind her. Taking in a deep breath she tried to steady the nerves that had built within her as she headed round to John's. She hoped she didn't look as nervous as she felt, so she put on a small smile as she knocked on the door, though she no longer had to force it as the door opened, revealing John, who grinned at the sight of her.

He looked as handsome as ever, wearing a black shirt with the top few buttons undone, tucked into a tight pair of jeans, his hair lazily quiffed up as usual, though he wasn't wearing his glasses yet again. His grin was infectious, and the way his eyes squinted she could tell he wasn't just struggling to see as usual, he was also well on his way to being drunk.

"Good afternoon, Roberta," he greeted teasingly, making her roll her eyes, letting out a laugh that made him feel surprisingly excited, especially as he saw the crate of beer she was holding. "Thought I said no presents?"

"Bold of you to assume these are just for you," she replied as he stepped back, letting her into the house. "Dunno about Liverpool but back where I'm from you shouldn't go to a gathering without booze. Plus they should make up for the fact I'm late,"

"You're not late, you're not meant to come to a party on time either," he shrugged, letting out a single laugh at her obvious nerves. "Relax, Robin. Your hair looks nice,"

"Surprised you can see it," she retorted quickly, hoping it hid how flattered she actually was. "Who's here so far?"

"Just the band and Con, they're all out in the garden," he said, gesturing for her to follow him. "Come 'ed, I'll show you through,"

***

Robin had hardly seen John all night.

After he'd let her into the house she'd sat out on the garden with him and his band and cousin for a while, the distant noise of the record player coming through the open kitchen window, but when a few other party guests turned up, college mates that she didn't know too well and lads from his old school, John had left her behind with Stuart and the other lads, which was fine considering she knew them all. They sat chatting, working their way through the oversized case of beers she'd brought, until eventually all of them had drifted into the house except for Stuart and Pete, the three of them sat on the garden bench talking about nothing in particular.

Robin had never been drunk before, only coming close once or twice when she'd been to the football and then the pub with her Dad, but she realised as she got up from the bench to light a cigarette she might have been rather tipsy. She struggled to ignite the cigarette, fumbling over the lighter, scowling as she could hear the two lads laughing at her. She counted herself lucky that John wasn't there to make fun of her, but then remembered he would be in a much worse state than her.

"Here," a voice said with a small laugh, and before she knew it someone was holding their lighter up to the cigarette between her teeth.

It wasn't a voice she recognised, not John or Stuart or any of the band. She frowned through the dim darkness that had fallen and realised that this was an entirely new person, a tall lad that practically towered over her. He was well-built too, with short blonde hair and dark eyes, a dazzling smile acting as a source of light through the darkness. He was dressed in a smart shirt and jacket, with dark jeans, his outfit much smarter and probably more expensive than anyone else's there that night. Robin felt a little intimidated by him, but that might have just been the alcohol.

"I could've done it myself," she replied stubbornly, flicking a small smirk at him.

"Strong independent woman," Stuart remarked teasingly, making her roll her eyes at him, though he clearly recognised the newcomer that stood in front of them. "Alright, Ant?"

"Can't complain Stu," the lad - Ant - replied with a casual shrug before he turned his attention back to Robin, his small smile turning into one that looked almost flirtatious. "You must be the famous Roberta that's just moved here,"

"I can't be that famous if you're getting my name wrong," she said, trying to sober up a little though that was a tricky task, holding her hand out for him to shake. "Robin,"

"Close enough," he laughed as he shook her hand, his fingers stroking across hers for a second longer than she was entirely comfortable with. "I'm Ant, I used to go to school with John,

At the mention of John, Robin took a long drag from her cigarette as she looked in the direction of the house, glancing through the window to see if she could make him out. She wished she'd gone inside with him, considering it was his birthday and he was her best friend. When she did finally catch sight of him through the window, she saw he was dancing around to whatever record was playing, and she was glad to see him look so happy and carefree. Over the month she'd known him she had for some reason grown quite fond of him. She cared about him and his feelings, and to see him happy was nice.

As she let out a breath of smoke she took in the rest of the room through the window. In the corner of the living room was Connie and George, watching Paul from across the room as he tried to flirt with some pretty girl. They were both laughing at him, rolling their eyes at their friend, and Robin wondered if anything romantic had ever happened between the two of them. Not that she had much chance to properly wonder that, because that was when she then noticed that John wasn't dancing alone.

There was a short, slender blonde girl stood at his side, looking up at him with admiration, laughing along with him. She was pretty, of course she was, much prettier than Robin thought she was herself. Her hair was neat, her clothes were smart and flattered her lovely figure, and John was smiling at her. Robin had never met that girl before, but for some reason she made her entire body feel as though it was being pierced by needles, making her aware of all of her own physical flaws, and it took her a moment to realise that what she was feeling wasn't just overwhelming insecurity, but jealousy.

She wasn't used to feeling jealous of other girls. She didn't really understand why she felt so strongly about a girl she'd never met before, maybe it was all the beer, or maybe she was suddenly intensely wondering why John had never looked at her like that. For some reason she found herself wishing that he would, which just confused her more and heightened her jealousy. She didn't care about things like that, relationships and romance, so why did she want a gaze of affection so badly?

"Hey," Ant's voice called, drawing her attention away from the window and back to him as he offered her another smile. "Anyone else tell you you're pretty?"

"Yeah, me when I'm in a good mood," she replied almost bitterly, his compliment not taking her mind off her jealousy as she continued to smoke. "What're you doing, trying to flirt with me or something?"

"Well, I was trying to," he laughed honestly, and his calm and joking manner when she mentioned flirting contrasted with how John usually acted when she accused him of the same.

Usually when Robin would joke that John was flirting with her he would brush it off stubbornly, or get overly defensive. Ant openly admitted to it, owning up to his intentions. That, on top of the scene she'd just witnessed through the window made her feel as though John liked her as a friend, nothing more, and the idea of him even wanting to flirt with her was so disgusting to him that he had to be stubborn to remove all doubt. That was fine, Robin liked him as a friend and nothing else too, even with the strange stirrings of envy she felt for that pretty blonde, so if someone else wanted to flirt with her and not feel ashamed by the prospect of her, the alcohol inside of her was telling her just to roll with it.

"Okay, cool," she replied simply, wishing she could think of something a bit more clever, especially as she heard Stuart snickering behind her. "Oi, piss off,"

"Don't mind him, he's always been a wind up," Ant told her, though she didn't notice the look he gave Stuart, as if seriously telling him to shut up rather than just joking about it like Robin had been. "How about when you've finished your cig we go inside and I get you a drink?"

Robin nodded, forgetting completely about the three beers she had left in the crate by the bench. She also somehow managed to forget about Stuart and Pete, completely distracted by the way Ant kept looking at her and smiling. It wasn't as sweet as John was looking at that other girl, but it was close enough, and she liked the attention. Letting out a final breath of smoke she stubbed her cigarette out and let Ant lead her into the kitchen, ignoring the way Stuart whistled at her when Ant noticed how drunk she was so looped his arm through hers to steady her as they went into the house.

The kitchen was empty, everyone else laughing in the living room listening to some rock and roll record that sounded like Elvis. She wondered where John was, but the thought of him made her unusually annoyed. Maybe she was still a little jealous, so she distracted herself, taking a seat by the table, watching as Ant got her a drink, scowling as she took a sip and realised it was water.

"It's funny, you smoke like a pro, but you're obviously new to drinking," he laughed, sitting down next to her.

"Well I'm never going to get good at it if you're giving me bloody water," she told him sourly, folding her arms across her chest. "The tap water tasted better back home,"

"You're from Leeds originally aren't you?" he asked, grinning when he saw her scowl at him again. "Relax, I'm joking. God, you look sexy when you're angry,"

"Joking that someone from Sheffield is from Leeds is like a crime, it's like calling their mother a bitch or whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. "Next you'll be saying I support United rather than Wednesday,"

"Well actually I didn't think pretty girls liked football," he shrugged, making her roll her eyes again as she sipped her water, not noticing as he reached his hand out across the table to stroke her own. "Clearly I'm wrong,"

Robin wasn't quite sure what he was attempting to do, and she wished she wasn't as drunk so she could ask him what his intentions were. If she were sober, she'd probably have been so annoyed by what he was saying, but she wasn't sober, so she just went along with it, turning to face him properly.

Now they were in the light he wasn't too bad looking. He was fairly handsome, even though he had a nose a little too thin, and his chin was a bit too small for the rest of his face. Even with her bigger build she felt tiny sat next to him, as if he was a real giant. He's not like John, she found herself thinking, but then again, John never gave her that sort of attention. No one had openly given her such attention, called her pretty, or even sexy. She was surprised she actually liked it.

She decided that while ever she felt as though she liked it, she'd go along with it. Surely he'd just get bored, or realise that she wasn't worth the time, or that she was just not as attractive as he originally thought now they were in the light, but his interest didn't seem to fade away. If anything it seemed to grow, laughing at her dry jokes, smiling every time she answered his questions, and the more interest he seemed to show her, the more her own feelings began to grow, mirroring his.

***

"Fucking hell," John muttered, rubbing his forehead as he grimaced, staggering into the kitchen the morning after the party.

"Morning," Stuart greeted from the kitchen table, sat reading the newspaper, surrounded by empty beer bottles and dirty glasses that were left over from the night before. "You look like shit,"

John shrugged, not bothering with a response, knowing that Stuart was probably right, but at least he didn't look as shit as the house. He couldn't remember much of the night before, but he couldn't remember anything happening to such an extent for the house to be so untidy. He was at least glad that Stuart had stayed the night, though he looked as though he didn't know the meaning of a hangover.

"By the way, your Aunt's angry with you, she stormed out when she saw the state you'd left the house in," Stuart said as John flopped into the seat next to his, letting out a groan as his head fell into his hands. "She said if it's not tidy by the time she comes home you can find somewhere else to live,"

"So I'm moving in with you then, am I?" John joked dryly, not lifting his head up to look at his friend.

"Well you're certainly not moving in with me," another voice called from the living room, and he glanced round to see his cousin Connie looking rough as she came into the kitchen, immediately going to the sink and filling up the kettle. "Luckily I was still passed out in the spare bedroom so she didn't see me, otherwise I think you'd already be thrown out,"

"Why doesn't Mimi like you?" Stuart frowned as Connie yawned, running her hands through her messy blonde curls in an attempt to neaten it.

"Cause I'm apparently a bad influence on her precious angel nephew," she shrugged, through John laughed at her comment, stretching in his seat.

"Has she ever met John?" Stuart laughed, though John merely shrugged, pushing a few of the beer bottles out of the way so he could rest his head on the table. "What were you talking to Florence about last night? You were chatting to her for ages,"

John shrugged, not having a clue what Stuart was talking about. The last thing he could remember from the night before was Paul throwing up in the wheelie bin at the front of the house, though he had blurry memories of Elvis records playing in the front room. He could vaguely remember Robin too, sat out in the garden smoking, and as soon as he thought of her he found himself full of a strange sense of regret that he'd not spent more time with her the night before.

"Do you really not remember?" Connie laughed as she helped herself to three mugs, pouring the kettle water into them to make tea. "She was asking about who the new girl was, so you were gushing to her for ages all about Robin,"

"Piss off, no I wasn't," John denied, sitting up in the chair as the memories started coming back and he felt himself grow hot in embarrassment.

"Yeah you were," she said, rolling her eyes as she handed him a mug of tea. "'She's well pretty, isn't she? Better than Brigitte Bardot, isn't she? And she's clever and talented too, she's just the greatest, wish I could pull a bird like her,' was kind of along the lines you were saying. Florie said you sounded like you were obsessed with her. I wouldn't worry though, you were pissed off your head, no one was taking it seriously, plus Robin wasn't even anywhere near you to hear so she doesn't think you're a weirdo,"

"You said all that?" Stuart exclaimed in shock, making John scowl.

He shook his head, eager to deny it, but the night before was coming back to him, memories resurfacing through the alcohol-induced haze, and as embarrassing as it was he knew it all to be true. He could remember thinking how much he wanted her to come in the living room so he could dance with her and maybe even try putting his hand on her waist so they could dance together, and maybe even try kissing her. It made sense at the time, but now he'd sobered up and was thinking it about it through hangover-hindsight, he was relieved he'd not acted on those desirous impulses. It was humiliating enough knowing he'd admitted his crush on Robin to Connie's best friend, clearly loud enough for people to notice and overhear, especially since he'd not even come to the conclusion whilst in a sober mindset.

He'd not even once accepted that he had a crush on Robin whilst sober, and it felt ridiculous to have done it while drunk. He did have a slight infatuation with her though, and maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he'd reached that conclusion while drunk, saving his mind from the torture of it all, now just having it as a drunken memory. At least since he was drunk he could pretend that it wasn't real and go on as normal, ignoring those weird feelings and just carrying on with Robin as his mate, the way she wanted it to be.

"Can I borrow a shirt to go home in?" Connie asked as she sat down across from him, snapping him away from his thoughts.

"No, you'll never give it back," he told her, rolling his eyes as he looked down at the table, frowning as he saw a small brown-paper package, barely the size of his hand. "What's that?"

"Rob left it for you," Stuart shrugged, barely glancing up from his newspaper. "Clearly she forgot the no present rule,"

John merely shrugged as he sat up, rubbing his tired eyes so he could focus on it a little better. Wrapped in brown paper with a small piece of red string tied around it in a bow, it was strangely obvious it was from Robin. He wasn't sure why it reminded him so much of her, but he could just imagine her sat up in her bedroom, what he imagined to be a dark mysterious cave of a room, surrounded with canvases of perfect sketches, wrapping such a tiny present with so much thought and care going into it. Along one of the thinner sides of the brown wrappings she'd written his name, her neat and swirly writing spelling it out clearly, and it made him feel strange knowing that she'd done it all for him.

He forced the thoughts away, reminding himself his crush was just drunken foolishness, as he tore into the paper. As soon as it was unwrapped he found it hard not to laugh when he realised what she'd gifted; a packet of woodbines cigarettes. Stuart looked over to see what she'd given him, but John shook his head, knowing it would just look like a daft joke present to him, and not like the inside joke he'd been carrying with Robin since he met her.

"I prefer Benson and Hedges personally," Connie commented as John flicked the packet open.

"Woodbines are her favourite," he explained simply, though as he went to take one of the cigarettes out something fell out onto the table instead.

It was a playing card, painted white either side, though he could just about make out the outline of the King of Hearts on one side. The other side though was taken up with a pencil sketch, one of Robin's specialty portraits. He'd known her long enough to know how good of an artist she was, so he felt a strange sort of honoured as he realised the portrait was of him. She'd drawn him from the side, putting in so much detail it looked almost like a photograph, a photograph of him smoking, one hand in his quiffed hair, the collar of his leather jacket up. It was like she'd taken a snapshot of him walking for the bus, and the way she'd drawn it, the detail she'd put into it, it looked almost like she'd dedicated herself to showcasing all of his best features. He couldn't help but think himself he looked rather handsome, an opinion he'd never really had about himself, and to think Robin had thought of him in that way and tried to capture it all in one miniature drawing... it was almost overwhelming.

Maybe his crush wasn't just a stupid drunk whim.

***

Word count: 4199

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