I would never have imagined that I would be living my twenties life in my thirties. And yet, that's exactly how it felt as I stood in the cold, my breath forming little clouds with each exhale, as I queued to get inside what seemed to be the most popular nightclub in town.

We reached the door and I shivered as the  overhead heaters blew warm air down the back of my neck.

My coat was checked. And then, as I handed over my entry fee, a stamp was pressed on to the back of my left hand. I looked down and absently watched as the word rapidly became fuzzy as the cheap ink bled outwards.

Paradiso.

Somehow, I couldn't imagine that paradise lurked of the other side of the door. It was most likely going to be hell. My own personal hell and I had no one else to blame but myself – and Richie.

My stomach twisted. I really shouldn't have had dessert. My bank balance was not going to be happy with me and my stomach was already trying to rebel as nerves took hold. It had been too long. I had no idea what to expect and it was terrifying.

"Come on, Sunshine." Richie beckoned, his voice barely audible over the loud music playing overhead. He paused to blow on the back of his own hand to dry the ink. "We've got some karaoke to be getting on with."

You can do this, Rosie.

I swallowed but allowed myself to be tugged forwards and into the club beyond.

Immediately, it became ten shades darker as the door closed behind us and we entered the heart of the club. The low lighting of the night club was disorienting and probably hid a multitude of sins. Even if some of the clubbers were making no effort to be discreet.

The floor trembled from the loud music pumping out of the speakers, the vibrations making my feet tingle. As coloured beams of light swept over the crowd, it became instantly clear that I was far too underdressed. Or, as I eyed the amount of skin on show, vastly overdressed.

I patted down my clothes before reaching up and running my fingers through my hair. What was I even thinking? I couldn't do this.

"Don't worry, you look great." Richie reassured me , his hand reaching out and pulling mine away from my hair.

He didn't immediately let go like I had expected him to. Instead, he kept my hand in his. All of the intrusive thoughts, the ones that told me I didn't belong, melted away until all I could focus on was the part where we were connected.

He was warm. Until that moment, I hadn't even realised my hands had been cold. I stared blankly at our joined hands for what seemed an eternity. Then I blinked and glanced up at him. Richie grinned, oblivious to my inner turmoil, and nodded his head towards the bar.

I nodded back, still reeling from the sudden quiet in my own mind. He still didn't let go. Instead, he tugged me through the crowd behind him as he barrelled through people much younger than us.

Bodies buffeted against me from every side. Stale alcohol tickled my nose. My shoes peeled off of the tacky floor with each step, the residue of split drinks clinging to the soles.

I grimaced and glanced down at my feet. The floor was dark but I was certain I could see all of the secrets hidden in the gloom. For once, I was glad my outfit choices were limited. The closed toe of my simple black work boots would at least stop any of the grime from touching my feet.

I had only just started to feel clean. It had taken days for the skin crawling sensation of dirt to disappear after tackling the filth in my own home and now there was this. I shuddered.

"Let's get you that drink." Richie shouted into my ear, when he noted my pause, his voice almost carried away by the music thumping overhead.

It was a girl band. I vaguely recalled the song from the radio. I was sure, if my mind was working properly, that I even liked the song. But, for a moment, I was set off kilter by Richie's closeness. I lost myself briefly in the way his aftershave drowned out the scent of stale alcohol. I became attuned to the warmth of his hand around mine.

Fuck, I was pathetic.

Had it truly come to this? The point where I was turning just the smallest bit of kindness into something more because for once – just once – I wanted to be just like everyone else. I wanted to feel like everyone else. Was that too much to ask for?

I was so unused to human contact that just a man holding my hand was throwing everything off. It was new. Unfamiliar. And I didn't know how to handle it.

My hand became clammy as my heart beat faster. I wasn't good with new. I wasn't good with people at all.

It was suddenly all too much.

When the crowd surrounded us, I used it as an excuse to pull my hand from Richie's. He turned back with a frown, his steps faltering as he waited for me. I put on a smile on a smile and waved him off.

"It's okay," I mouthed.

When he hesitated, I nodded towards the bar, before pushing and shoving my way after him.

Inside, I couldn't tell if I was disappointed that he had given up so easily. I would never admit it out loud but if he had stopped and asked me for my hand, I would have given it. For convenience, of course. I didn't want to lose him in the crowd. It wasn't that I wanted to be cared for and protected. I could do that myself.

If it had felt nice to be held, I would never admit it to anyone - especially not myself. It was a secret I would bury deep down inside. To depend of others and want things would only bring disappointment. I should know. I had been disappointed often enough.

Unwilling to dwell on the thought, I pushed to the front of the heaving mass of the people gathered around the bar. I had never been more out of place. The chipped edge of the cheap counter dug into my ribs, my skin growing wet as I rested my arms on the bar top.

Girls, because they were girls to me, leaned forwards to strategic advantage. Their exposed cleavages summoned bar service swiftly as if they had cast a spell over the young bar staff. I glanced away. My hands fidgeted with the high necked collar of my own top, grateful for the extra coverage and the protection it offered.

Two shot glasses were set before me. I blinked and glanced up as another two were set beside them. My brows lifted as I glanced up at Richie.

"Dutch courage and a little bit of pain relief." He said with a grin, grabbing his own and lifting it to his lips. With practiced ease, he tilted his head back and took down the shot between one breath and the next. He set the first glass down with a clatter. "The karaoke will start soon and you'll soon be grateful."

"He's right, love." An older bartender added, a slight grimace on his face.

I snorted. Then, with hesitance, I picked up the glass. As I lifted it closer to my face, the sharp smell of alcohol burnt my nose. It took all of my willpower not to pinch my nose. With a deep breath for courage, I knocked back the glass.

The burn at the back of my throat was instantaneous as the vodka hit. I swallowed. The alcohol burnt a delicious path through my body as I coughed in into the crook of my elbow. I fought the urge to gag.

"It may have been a decade but I still don't like vodka." I shuddered, banging the empty shot glass on to the countertop.

"A decade, huh?" Richie asked, as Lindsey swept up on his other side and stole his other shot with a grin.

I rolled my eyes, my body relaxing as the alcohol swept through my system. "I'm not sure who you think I am but even I was a student once upon a time." I explained dryly, picking up the second shot glass and lifting it in a faux toast.

He didn't need to know that those days were very short lived.

It had been a long time but I remembered how it felt all those years ago. The calm. The way my body relaxed as I became more and more intoxicated. I wanted to feel that way again. I wanted to be that relaxed and carefree.

"Now that I would have loved to have seen."

"And now I think you're overestimating how interesting I am – drunk or otherwise." I muttered, before chucking back the second shot.

With great effort, I didn't cough the second time. Instead, I just closed my eyes and savoured the burn as it made its way down my throat. My eyes watered slightly at the sensation. And yet, it was good. A good burn that had that knot in my stomach loosening.

"Come on, sunshine. One drink for the road and you need to decide what song you want to sing. Choose fast or I'll have you singing Barbie Girl."

I frowned. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, he would." Lindsey cut in, passing me a bottle of Peroni with grin. "I still haven't forgiven him for that one."

With a shake of my head, I took a sip of the beer. My nose wrinkled on the first sip. I took another sip, grateful as the Italian beer washed away the taste of the spirits. With each swallow, the beer only got better. I had almost forgotten what it tasted like.

The first few acts on the karaoke were of the ear bleeding variety. In no time at all, my bottle of beer was empty. A slight buzz was singing through my veins. For the first time in what felt like forever, all of the fear, stress, and anxiety has been pushed to the background.

It was dangerous. It was addictive. I could see how people fell in love with the bottle. It was an escape from all of the messy emotions I struggled to deal with. And yet, no matter how much I wanted that escape, it just wasn't an option. She depended on me even if I wished there was someone else to carry that burden.

For one night I could forget. I no longer had a curfew. I no longer had someone waiting on me to feed them.

My fingers picked at the label on the bottle as my turn crept closer and closer. After an hour, we had truly experienced the good, the bad, and the downright painful. I swallowed. My fingers tore off another strip of paper.

"And next up is Rosie with a noughties classic. Get on up here, Rosie."

Why had I agreed to this? I cleared my throat, glanced down at my empty bottle, before snatching Richie's out of his hand. Within moments, I upended the beer bottle, gulping the contents down as quickly as possible just hoping for more of that Dutch courage because courage has well and truly fled the building.

As I made my way up to the front, loud catcalls shouted from behind me. I glanced back briefly, saw Lindsey and Richie with their hands raised as they cheered me on. My stomach fluttered and my hands grew clammy.

I accepted the microphone from the young woman beside the karaoke machine. She looked equal parts bored and entertained. I supposed this was a regular part of her job. Still, she managed just the right amount of pep to get the crowd excited.

The opening bars blared. My throat felt tight as nerves kicked in. All of the eyes watching me were almost physical touches. Cold chilling touches caused uncomfortable knots in my stomach. My fingers tightened around the microphone. A voice in my brain shouted at me over and over again.

Run. Run away fast.

I almost gave in. It would be so easy to run away and hide like I had been doing for the past few years. And yet, just once, I wanted to just be. I wanted to have fun. I wanted to be a little bit reckless. I wanted to sing.

Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to get lost in the music. The first words let my mouth is barely more than a croak. There were a few obnoxious titters, audible even over the backing track.

Run. The voice taunted again and again. But, a combination of liquid courage and the pleasant buzz now coursing through me, had me pushing on. And, as I lost myself in the music, fear melted away. By the time the chorus came around, I was belting so loudly my chest ached.

It was good. Freeing. I had never performed in front of others. And, while this was hardly a concert, it was just as momentous. My entire world had been upended all in the space of one track.

"If I could just see you. If I could just hold you tonight." I held the last note, before slowly opening my eyes as my voice trailed off.

The cheer was instantaneous. The drunken enthusiasm only the severely intoxicated could achieve. My eyes lifted to Richie, Lindsey, and others in our team. They were in a mixture of shock and awe. They catcalled and cheered louder than everyone else.

I handed off the microphone to the staff member and staggered towards the group. It was hard to tell if the floor was moving or if I was finally starting to get drunk. I had been a teenager last time that happened. It hadn't ended well. I could only hope that this time was better.

Lindsey hugged me tightly as she shouted into my ear, "That was so good. I didn't know you could sing."

"I did." Richie commented smugly, his eyes twinkling as they met mine. And as our gazes locked, I was transported back to that afternoon just a few short days ago.

My head turned away even as a blush stormed across my cheeks. I was glad for the make up on my skin, hoping it would hide the heat radiating from my cheeks. And yet, when I glanced up, Richie's smile was wide and teasing. He knew.

"I need another drink. Or ten." I muttered, forgetting that Lindsey was still hanging off my neck.

At least, until she whisper yelled in my ear. "Yes!"

She pulled away before planting a kiss on my cheek. "You have all of the best ideas. I have the feeling we're going to be best friends."

She squeezed me tight before tucking her arm through mine. Before I could protest, she was tugging me towards the bar. I let her do it. It was the alcohol. It had to be.

All too soon, I was knocking back shot after shot. Some fiery. Some sweet. All had one thing in common. They fuelled that warm buzz in my veins which soon turned into a bizarre numb feeling. All of my worries drifted away. Or at least, their volume had been turned down low so that they were easier to ignore.

I could get used to this.

**

A few hours later but what felt like just minutes later, I was spilling out of the back of black cab. Only a firm grasp on my arm prevented my face from having an ugly meeting with the pavement. Instead of panic, a giggle escaped my mouth. One that failed to stop as Richie pulled me back upright.

"Wait there." He muttered seriously before climbing out, stumbling just a moment to catch his balance. Mr I-Swear-I'm-Not Drunk was clearly more intoxicated than he tried to show.

I chuckled louder but let him gently pull me from the taxi.

"You're going to wake your neighbours if you keep this up."

I snorted, "Shhh, you're making too much noise, Richie."

With much staggering and much heavy lifting on his part, I allowed him to guide me down the treacherous steps leading to my front door.

It took three attempts at putting the key into the lock before they were snatched from my nerveless fingers.

"Hey!"

"Shush," he muttered, one hand on my waist as the other reached past and put the key into the lock first time. The door swung open, groaning loudly on its hinges. A blast of cool air rushed out to greet us. "You really should have stopped drinking when I told you to."

I blinked. The words barely permeated the fog which now hung over everything.

"Rosie, are you going to be okay?" Richie asked clumsily with only a slight slur to his speech.

Drunkenly, I followed the arm with my eyes, turning so that I was forced to tilt my head backwards in order to look into Richie's gaze. His hand remained on my waist. I was suddenly hyperaware of everything about him as the alcohol whispered suggestions in my ear like a devil on my shoulder.

I had known him for years but suddenly I was seeing him for the first time. Or perhaps that was the alcohol talking.

There was a small frown between his brows as he held me upright, a fond smile upon his lips. My eyes watched his lips as he spoke soft words to me but, I couldn't hear a thing. The hollow feeling of loneliness was still too fresh.

As he looked at me with concern, all I could think about was his lips and what they might feel like on mine. Would they make me feel something other than emptiness?

It's just one night.

One night without responsibilities and I was aching to be wanted. I wanted to be cherished. I wanted to be something more than I had been for the past decade. Richie was a safe harbour. Or so I thought.

Tilting my head upwards, I attempted to close the distance between us.

His eyes widened a millisecond before Richie turned his head away.

"No, Rosie." He murmured, putting a hand on my shoulder to stop any further approach. "This is just the alcohol talking. You don't want this and I think in the morning you'll be grateful."

I snorted and pulled out of his arms. How could he possibly know what I wanted? Half the time, even I didn't know. At least, I didn't want to know.

He just doesn't want me.

The thought was there. An intrusive voice that shouted over and over again how much a man like him had better prospects than a thirty year old woman with terrible social skills and zero of the dating variety.

I turned and pulled my keys from the door. Then, with my back to him, I slurred, "Good night, Richie."

His hand caught my arms, as he said, "Wait, I didn't mean to-."

I pushed his hand from my shoulder and stepped into my flat.

Even though things were starting to spin, I half turned towards him and managed to lift my chin and meet his gaze firmly. "Good night, Richie."

He opened his mouth. Closed it while running a frustrated hand down his face. He eventually nodded with a sigh. "Good night, Rosie."

He waited until my door was closed and the door locked before he made his way up the stairs.

It was only where his footsteps disappeared following by a car door slamming before I slumped to the ground. Burying my face into my hands, my keys digging into my cheek, I groaned.

What have I just done?

***

Thank you for reading!

So what do you think? Just a drunken mistake or a hint of something deeper?

What do you think Rosie will do next?