You Can't Hurry Love

Chapter Twenty-Eight

DECEMBER 13th

I'm happy for them. I am. I couldn't be any happier in fact. It's just . . . well I can't quite put my finger on it really. I guess I just feel like everyone else is moving on around me and I'm lagging behind, stuck in the same place I've always been, single and flat sharing with the same friend I did at university. David has just bought an apartment with his girlfriend. Lizzie has met someone she is absolutely infatuated with. Ben and Isaac are engaged now and me . . . Well, I'm currently sat alone at the bar of Music Motion, drinking from a giant glass of wine I can't even pronounce and getting hit on by women who, quite frankly, were way out of my league.

I've spent the night watching the happy couple drift from group to group, getting words of congratulations from everyone they met . . . because they had a reason to be celebrated. They've found true ever-lasting love. They've moved on.

Yes, I'm happy for them but I couldn't help resenting them just a little bit too and I know how awful that makes me sound. I would never voice it to them, not in a million years, but that doesn't mean I can't secretly think it, can I?

God, I'm a terrible friend.

I pick my drink back up and drain what's remaining in one gulp, my hand wobbling as I place it back down on the counter of the bar and I scan the crowd again, watching as Isaac, who was currently donning his fabulous drag persona of Lorna Mower, and Ben, tear through the crowd, probably on their way to see more of their adoring friends.

I love them so much, I'm so glad they have each other. But what if when they get married, they want me to move out. Where will I go? I don't want to live with strangers and as much as I'm happy that I've patched things up with mum, there is no way I'm going to go back and live with her again. I couldn't stand it. I'm going to have to find somewhere on my own and then I really will be a greying spinster surrounded by cats and pictures of empty vases.

I wish Lincoln was here. He would make me feel better, make me feel less alone. I could call him and invite him out but to be honest, it's pretty late and I'd hate to wake him up.

'Another?' I turn to see the barmaid eyeing me from across the bar, probably trying to determine whether it was safe for me to do so seeing as I'd long since surpassed my two-drink limit, but I nod my head back at her. Another couldn't hurt. I was celebrating after all and as she passes it to me, I thank her and take a big sip, enjoying the crisp fruitiness of it as it passes my lips.

Maybe there's a chance that he is still awake. It is a Saturday night after all . . .

I reach for my phone in record time and after several failed attempts I manage to unlock it, having to hold it close to my face so that I could see the screen and when I find his number, I press call before I can talk myself out of it.

I listen as it rings, and rings, and rings and when the sound of his voicemail kicks in I'm already questioning what he could be doing that has made him unable to answer it. Horrible visions cloud my mind and when I hear the beep signalling for me to talk, I realise it was too late to hang up.

'Hey, it's me, Dottie,' I shout loudly into the speaker, afraid that he might not be able to hear me over the music. 'I was just phoning to say hi, really. I'm out at Music Motion celebrating Ben and Isaac getting engaged. Did you hear about that? I'm guessing you did. Anyway, you're probably really busy seeing as you didn't answer the phone . . . Are you with your friend again? The one you went to meet the other night. Actually, don't bother answering that, I'm just being nosy and it's none of my business. It's cool if you are though. With your friend . . . Ben seems to think you're sleeping with Angie. I mean I can totally understand why you would be, she's absolutely gorgeous and looks like a supermodel and you would so suit someone like her . . . I don't look like a supermodel. Maybe that's why I'm still single! Haha. Anyway, I'm rambling. I'm going to go now. It's super late and I want to go home. The only problem is, Ben wants to stay out because everyone keeps buying him drinks and showering him with attention and he's in his element, so I'll have to sneak away without him noticing. Lincoln . . . I can't feel my legs. I've had too much to drink and I can't feel my legs and I don't know how I'm going to make it to the night bus . . . Oh well, I'm sure I'll be fine. Anyway, it's been fun talking to you. Much easier than when you're actually with me and I have to listen to all your snarky comments. Feel free to delete this message, I can't even remember what I've said to be honest-'