Let It Happen

It turns out I was right. After an amazing dinner at a restaurant with a name I couldn't pronounce, James and I hailed a taxi and made a short trip to the nearest club. We've just arrived, and James graciously pays for us both, holding out a hand, gesturing me to go in first.

Dennis helped me pick my outfit before he went to rehearsals earlier. Well, he pretty much bought it for me when we were shopping, since I didn't have any money. He just can't help himself. I'm wearing a floaty, silky red vest with thin straps, skinny blue jeans and black heels. The look is finished off with a little yellow bag. Honestly, Dennis has a better flair for fashion than I do. It's a gift, I think.

James immediately spots friends when we reach the bar, which doesn't surprise me in the slightest because he seems to know everyone. We can't even walk down the street without someone saying hi to him. I wonder again why he's even with me. I'm fully aware I'm not his type, but then again he's definitely mine.

He's tall and he has an amazing body, with tattoos across his chest and upper arms, and his skin is smooth and tanned. He has short blonde hair and grey eyes that seem to turn silver in the light. He's twenty two and he models for all these big clothing and perfume companies, so you'll understand why I'm not his type. I know exactly what his type is. In fact, she's coming over here right now.

I want to cling to James' hand, remind him that I'm still here and I'm very much interested in going home with him tonight, but I know it would seem childish and annoying. Sometimes I just have to sip my drink and act like I don't feel threatened by his stunning friends who are much closer to his age and much prettier than me.

But she's tall and skinny and tanned, and she has beautiful honey coloured hair and long lashes, and how can I even compete with that? Why is he with me?

"Jimmy!" she calls in her perfect little voice, and James looks up like he didn't even see her lighting up the room with her pearly white teeth.

So she has a nickname for him too. Not only that, but she's dragging a group of gorgeous friends over to see Jimmy too.

James looks at me and shoots me a reassuring smile, seeming to sense the tension coming off me in waves. His hand rests comfortingly on my knee, and I feel myself relax a little. But that doesn't stop me hating his stupid friends. Why is it legal for people to be that gorgeous while the rest of us have to struggle with boring brown eyes and average physiques? It's not fair.

His hand slides off my leg as the blonde throws her half naked body into his muscular arms, and I feel irritation bubble up inside me. They look like the perfect couple. Suddenly I want my beanie hat and my trackies and a nice chick flick, because there's no way in hell my relationship is going to last, not while girls like her exist.

"Hey Tamsin," he laughs, returning his hand to my knee as she straightens up again, adjusting her tiny skirt, accidentally on purpose bending over so her massive tits cascade out of her belly top, right in my boyfriend's face. He doesn't seem to notice, but I do, and I'm seething. "You all right?"

It figures she has a pretty name too. Not something plain and boring like Amy or Tina. No, she has to go all out and live up to that gorgeous face. I start to feel a little uncomfortable as she and her friends surround us, pinning us to the bar, and I cling to the little comfort James' hand brings me.

They go on to talk about some shoot they're doing together next week, and I zone out, wondering what lectures I have tomorrow. I try to remember what essays I have due in that I haven't done, anything that isn't the definition of perfection flaunting herself in front of my boyfriend.

I think of Dennis, practising for his production with the rest of the cast, enjoying the spotlight that being the main character draws for him. He's probably finished by now, but I wonder how he did. I know that when he gets on a stage and embraces a completely different character to his own, he's amazing. He can be whoever he wants to be. He can forget about being Dennis Harper for a few hours and completely switch off who he is. I hope that held true at rehearsals today.

I get out my phone to text him, but he's probably with Gus right now, meaning he won't answer. I text him anyway, figuring he can reply when Gus falls asleep.

James seems to be talking to his model friends forever before he remembers to introduce me. That's always my favourite part of his conversations with his friends: him introducing me as his girlfriend, a subtle hint for those stupid sluts to back the fuck off. But at the same time I'm never interested in meeting his friends. I know they probably all look down their noses at me.

After hearing a bunch of names that I immediately forget, I turn to James and tell him I'll be right back, planting a small kiss on his lips, sort of as a reminder to Tamsin and her skanky friends to stay away.

I try not to glance back as I make my way to the toilets, desperate to appear confident and unassuming, but how can you not suspect someone like Tamsin? She could be throwing herself at James this very second. But then I see someone I recognise, and Tamsin leaves my mind.

Apparently Dennis isn't with Gus tonight, because Gus is here. I can see him a few metres away, chatting to girls with his friends and laughing. And immediately I'm suspicious. I forget going to the toilets to redo my makeup and head over there.

As I approach, Gus is elbowed by one of his friends, stumbling forward and instinctively holding out his hands to catch himself, but unfortunately for him they land right on the chest of the girl in front of him, and his friends burst out laughing. He laughs too, a little flustered, but I can't help thinking his hands linger there a little too long.

I stop behind him and clear my throat, and he whirls around to face me, still grinning, and when he recognises me his grin only widens.

"Hey there, Maisy Mae," he sings, and I scowl. "What brings you here?"

"Don't call me that," I growl, feeling annoyance boil in my stomach at the name Dennis used to use for me before Gus spoiled it.

"Are you here with Dennis?" he asks, completely ignoring what I said.

"I might be," I lie, crossing my arms, "and how do you think he'd feel if he saw this?"

"What?" he laughs, and his friends howl behind him. "Kurt made me touch them! I didn't do anything."

I can tell he's been drinking. He's speaking at half the pace he usually talks, and he can't take that stupid grin off his face. I want to make him go home, I want to make him leave so he doesn't do anything stupid. But I'm a lot smaller than him and we're not exactly friends anymore. But it doesn't stop me trying.

"You should go home," I tell him. "Don't you have classes tomorrow?"

"Nope," he says. "They were cancelled."

"Well..." I trail off, trying to conjure up some way to make him leave, but nothing comes to me.

"You're free to join us if you want," he chuckled. "We're playing a game called Guess the Fakes."

I glance behind him, at his friends, and I catch Kurt glancing at one of the girl's chests. I scowl, feeling angry for Dennis because I know he won't be mad about this. Gus could get away with anything as long as they aren't fighting.

"You're disgusting," I spit, and his friends titter again.

"I'm guessing yours are fake," Kurt jeered from behind Gus, and I cross my arms over myself. "They're a lot bigger than the rest of you."

I shake my head and turn away, my hands balling into fists. I want to scream at Gus, remind him he has a boyfriend who loves him, but in his tipsy or drunken state or whatever I know he won't listen. He'll just laugh along with his friends and make fun of me until I leave. So I do, before they can embarrass me further.

I make my way back to James, completely forgetting about my makeup. I just want to go home, I don't want to watch whatever Gus' friends are going to 'make him' do. I don't want to be the one to tell Dennis that his boyfriend's being an asshole again.

I half expect James to be snogging Tamsin right there where I'd been sitting, just to polish off my night nicely - not that our date was bad before we were here, because it was really nice - but he's just sitting there, where I left him, chatting to one of the guys. Despite my filthy mood I manage a smile, relieved that James is still interested enough in me to keep his hands to himself.

I feel a little guilty for suspecting him of such things, but it's not like I don't think these things without reason. James and I were only ever meant to be a one night stand, and I knew he was the type to sleep around before I got with him. But for some reason he's staying faithful now, which is nice. I hadn't expected him to pay the slightest bit of attention to me the second time we saw one another.

He seems to sense I'm in a bad mood, because he excuses himself from the group of models that he clearly belongs in and makes his way over to his extremely average girlfriend, pulling me into a hug and kissing the top of my head. He's pretty good at reading my emotions even though we haven't been together for very long.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asks softly, and I nod.

"If that's okay," I tell him, feeling guilty for pulling him away from his friends.

He smiles and locks our fingers together, his big hand completely enveloping mine, and he leads me out of the club and out into the fresh air. He throws his arm around me, seeing me shivering in the breeze, and I lean into him.

Part of me wants to ask him to take me to Dennis, but I'm not exactly looking forward to reminding Dennis what a prick his boyfriend is. I just want him to be happy for a little longer, and besides my boyfriend is being totally sweet to me. Why would I want to walk away from that?

Luckily James' little loft isn't far from the club. He lives in the flat above a posh little cafe in town. It's very nicely decorated, with modern black, white and silver furniture and simplistic designs. He doesn't have any pictures up of his photo shoots or anything, which I found quite surprising when I first came here. Don't models usually love themselves enough to plaster pictures of their airbrushed faces all over their apartments? I don't know, maybe I'm being prejudiced.

"Tea?" he asks as we enter the open space in his loft that makes up his living room, dining area and kitchen.

I nod and curl up on the sofa, kicking my shoes off as he fills the kettle. I decide I will phone Dennis, just to see how his rehearsal went since he's not with Gus and he didn't even text me back. The phone rings a few times before he picks up.

"Are you calling to thank me for my styling expertise?" Dennis asks, launching straight into conversation without even asking how I am or anything, which at this time I appreciate. "Did James eat that shit up?"

"You're an idiot," I tell him, giggling, grinning over at James as he glances at me from the kitchen counter. "I was just wondering how rehearsals went."

"They were fine," he says cheerfully, and the laughter in his voice makes me feel so much better. "I crushed it, obviously."

"When do you have to go again?"

"Tomorrow," he groans. "Come with me?"

I smile and nod, forgetting he can't see me. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great," he says. "So how was your date?"

Immediately I think about Gus 'falling' into that girl and I feel awful. I'm so torn between telling him it happened and risking upsetting him or not telling him and letting him be happy. But I lean towards not telling him, just happy hearing the amusement in his voice and looking forward to seeing a genuine smile on his face tomorrow. Why does he even need to know? Why can't I just let him think Gus is behaving? Where's the harm if he doesn't know?

I smile, letting out a small sigh, and say, "It was good. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."