You Can't Hurry Love

Chapter Twelve

'You want to tell me what all that was about?' Isaac takes a step back from the others to walk beside me, where I was lagging behind and seriously contemplating turning around and running all the way home, not bothered that it was miles away and absolutely freezing. At least it would give them all something else to whisper about other than my crazed episode on the tube.

'Not particularly,' I reply, fiddling with the zip on my bag so I didn't have to look him in the eye.

'You completely freaked out on us. What happened?'

'I don't know.'

But I did know and that was the problem.

So convinced I'd been that I was about to meet my future husband that when I found Lincoln's face staring back at me, for one solitary second it was him I'd pictured smiling at me from the altar as I sauntered down the aisle towards him, bouquet in hand. Only now I can't seem to get the image out of my head and it was making me feel a bit queasy.

'So it had nothing to do with you being wrapped up in Lincoln's arms then?' Isaac asks casually and I feel a lump form in my throat.

'What? God, no! That's ridiculous! It was an accident. I wanted to have a quick chat with Lizzie so I thought I'd go and sit with her for a bit. The carriage just jerked under my feet and I lost my balance, that's all.'

'Right,' he adds but he doesn't seem convinced. 'So you're still excited about your date with Matt tomorrow night?'

'Of course, I am. Why wouldn't I be?'

'Just checking,' he shrugs, and I remind myself that Isaac's right. Matt's the one I should be thinking about. Not grumpy Italian men with strong arms that lift me easily off my feet . . .

'You know what, I think Ben's trying to get our attention.' I lie. 'We should try to catch up before we lose them.' And Isaac agrees, both of us picking up our pace as we hotfoot it up the street after them.

Shoreditch was absolutely packed tonight. And not in the usual way it was on a Friday night, either. As far as we could see were party revellers from every direction making their way to the same destination as we were, Royal Blues. Hopeful faces can be seen getting into the long standby queue, sneaking cheeky swigs from concealed bottles of alcohol they had hidden in their coat pockets, whilst the more elite were attempting to get the attention of the event photographers as they drifted slowly but surely towards the V.I.P. entrance, oozing self-assurance as they carefully angled their bodies towards their cameras.

I have to admit it, now that I was here, I couldn't ignore the stir of excitement starting to settle in my stomach as I took it all in. No one could deny that London was one of the world's leading city's when it came to its nightlife and I'd been lucky enough to get to visit many establishments in my short career for the magazine and from the outside, this place was of no exception. It was here to wow! With its modern glass-fronted exterior that managed to look both elegant and futuristic, you felt like you were walking into another dimension as you drew near, the historical buildings on either side dimming in comparison to their new younger, wilder neighbour.

'You guys ready?' Ben beams, bouncing on the soles of his feet as we finally reach them.

'Hell, yes!' I grab his extended arm and we make our way towards the entrance, bypassing the jealous stares from the standby line as we hand over our tickets. The guy on the door ticks off Lincoln's name from his clipboard and removes the gold rope to allow us entry, instantly bathing us in the neon blue lights inside and after handing in our jackets we descend the staircase, my eyes wildly scanning the area as we join the madness below.

Every person on the dancefloor was moving in rhythm to the D.J., raised up on a small, rotating platform in the centre of the room. Cocktail waitresses holding bottles of champagne filled with sparklers were having to move sideways through the throng of bodies to avoid getting crushed as they fought to get to where they needed to be. The people working the bar were appearing to keep their cool despite the sheer number of partygoers all fighting to get served first, working their section methodically as empty spaces quickly get filled by other bodies, thirsty and desperate to get back to their friends, and across the room, a giant security man can be seen guarding the entrance to the V.I.P. lounge.