Sep. 14th, 2014

Having rich friends was a fortunate thing when one was dirt poor, and so Carly was grateful for the continued and slightly weird presence that was Lanie Thwaite; Lanie who knew where the best parties were happening or who would arrange them somewhere if there weren't any to be heard of. Lanie who was never stingy with her alcohol and who could always be trusted to have something a little more special on her and pass it off to friends. Thank God for Lanie.

The party was being thrown in an old church somewhere out near the East End - Carly had gotten there on the back of some older guy's motorbike and she didn't know how she'd get home yet. That could be dealt with later, when she was far more drunk. It felt like ages since Carly had properly been out, either too exhausted from work, or dwelling on that 'probably a demonic being' thing, or dwelling on boys she'd stupidly allowed to break her heart. But Carly didn't want to be that girl. She wanted to be the infamous Carly Malec again and what better way than pressed against some unshaved biker and with a head slightly swirling with gin?

I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy )
Rachel woke as the front door of the car slammed shut, screaming in shock which made Dom, who was not expecting to be screamed up when climbing into his own car, start screaming too.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Dom tried to be a calm and collected adult as Rachel scrambled for the door. “It’s okay, it’s okay, Rachel? Rachel, look at me.” Rachel stopped with her hand on the handle, panting. He didn’t look angry but adrenaline was thumping through her body and she wanted to get out and run. “You okay? You’re okay.”

... )

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