Liars & Kings

The party was in full swing. September generally meant party time. Not that the other eleven months of the year didn’t, it was just September brought new beginnings, it marked the end of five long months of summer and the start of hard work. It also meant freshers had descended upon universities up and down the country. They had entire weeks worth of events set up for them to crash in and out of, throw up all over and not bother going into lecture the next morning.

For the second years, this meant a re-run of the previous years beginning. Re-visiting past hook ups, drinking lethal cocktails and making idiots of themselves in front of people they now considered firm friends.

The York-Reynolds-Smyth extravaganza was the party to be at on the twentieth of September. The freshers were all moved into halls and being disgustingly nice to one another in the hope they all become best friends forever, and were heading out to the street party in town. A mandatory event for them, since they’d purchased event wristbands upon arrival. This meant they were all out of the way. No eighteen year old fresher was going to get in the way of this party.

Slipknot screamed through Nathanial York’s expensive, state of the art stereo. The sound of smashing glass crashed over the top of it, only adding to Corey Taylor’s screams and growls. The flat was already a state of complete chaos, and it was only nine PM. People were flinging themselves across the landing, drinks were being spilled down clean shirts and all over the carpet. The kitchen floor was covered in shards of glass and ice cubes.

Grace knew she shouldn’t be here.

She’d moved into her own flat a few hours ago, kissed her father goodbye and promised to be on her best behaviour this year. But the second he’d disappeared through the front door, she’d closed her own bedroom door and locked it, not wishing to try and be friends with any of her new flatmates. None of them would be like the old bunch. She’d changed her conservative, dad-approved outfit for one of her barely there dresses and ankle boots, a long cardigan thrown over the top to protect her from the light drizzle. She’d attacked her face with all the eyeliner she owned and packed a tiny clutch bag with her essentials, before texting Lawrence and promising to be there in twenty minutes.

That had been two hours ago. All the way to the party, she’d been nervous. It probably was the worst idea she was going to have this year, after all, it had been one final night at this very flat that had gotten her kicked out of university last year. But she’d promised that this year would be different, and so far, it hadn’t been looking that way.

Kirsty had greeted her at the door with a wide smile and open arms. “I am so glad you’re coming back! Fucking missed you last year.” Grace smiled at her and returned the hug, soon losing herself in the party.

That had all been two hours ago. By eleven, she was already wasted. She clutched a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand and leaned her head on Lawrence Reynolds’ shoulder. She was sitting in his bedroom with him, Nate York, Benedict Smyth, Kirsty and a couple of other giggling girls from the flat below.

“This party is actually amazing,” Kirsty slurred. Grace couldn’t help but giggle. She’d never seen her friend so drunk in the few months they’d lived together. Kirsty was generally the one looking after Grace when she was a drunken state. It was strange to see her in this way.

“My party’s are actually legendary, so don’t think anything else,” Nate raised his bottle to Kirsty and sent his crooked smile her way.

Grace swigged from her bottle. The whiskey was bitter, it burned her throat and warmed her chest. She didn’t usually drink it. River had gotten her into it over the summer. She smiled at the thought of River Henley. Her sort of boyfriend who was a million miles away, a nice chunk of ocean divided them. She sighed and buried her face into Lawrence’s shoulder.

“I know what would make this party even better,” one of the girls squealed. She popped open her Topshop clutch bag and rummaged around inside, her shiny new iPhone slipping out in the process. Finally, she produced a tiny bag half filled with white powder.

“What? Talcum powder?” Benedict snorted, he sloshed beer down his front as he adjusted his seating position.

The girl, a blonde, scoffed. “Honestly, Smyth, if that’s what you think it is, you better leave now.”

“It’s coke?” Nate raised his eyebrows, a look of complete fascination on his face. He puffed his cheeks out, before looking impressed. “And how’d you get hold of that?”

The girl shrugged, tapping her nose. “That’s for me to know. Let’s just say, I have my connections.”

“You are officially my favourite person,” Nate announced, reaching out for the tiny packet and opening it carefully. He looked around at the circle of friends, “who wants some?”

Everyone murmured in agreement, nodding enthusiastically. Apart from Grace.

“What about you, Pritchard? You wanna try some?” Nate asked, holding the bag of powder out to her.

Grace looked across at him. She knew she shouldn’t. She wanted to, not having had much experience with drugs. But despite the desire to snatch the packet from Nate and inhale a line, she knew she shouldn’t. She had more to lose this time around. A year ago, she’d have said ‘yes’ in a heartbeat. But now? This second chance she had at going to university wasn’t going to come around again, if she slipped back into the party lifestyle and drowned herself in vodka, she was done. Her dad would have her under lock and key and hate her forever.

It was these thoughts that made her shake her head. “Nah, I’m good.” She squeezed Lawrence’s shoulder, “make sure Kirsty’s okay,” she hissed in his ear, before getting up and leaving the bedroom.

Outside, the party was still going strong. Slipknot had fizzled into Jason Derulo and a few people had coupled up and were ripping each other’s clothes off in the hall. The carpet was more sticky than wet and the ice cubes on the kitchen floor had made tiny puddles.

Grace pushed the bottle of Jack Daniels into Annabel Lees’ hand, before leaving the flat and heading out into the lukewarm night. Walking down the street, regret built up inside her. She could always run back and change her mind. But her feet pulled her forwards, back down the street to her own flat. Pulling her phone from her bag, Grace knew she shouldn’t, but it was pretty much compulsory that she sent at least one horrendous text whilst under the influence. Typing off a quick message, she sent it to both ‘Dad’ and ‘River’. Knowing she’d get shit from the pair of them, she switched it off and dropped it back into her bag.

The consequences of saying ‘no’ could wait till tomorrow.