Dani pulls a face and scrunches her nose, “What did you say you fancy? I couldn’t hear you I’ve the noise.”
I stare at her, unable to repeat the words, let alone believe them. “I fancy…” my voice trails off.
She looks at me in bewilderment, “what? A dance? A drink?”
I nod, snapping out of my daze. “Yes, I fancy a drink.”
“Well, it’s my round,” she says, pulling her purse from her bag. “You’d better wait here; in case these lot start throwing their knickers at him.”
As Dani heads to the bar, I find myself wandering away to look for Chris. I spend twenty minutes searching the venue, desperate to reinstate order in my twisted mind. I fancy Chris, not
Scott. Chris not Scott. I fancy Chris.
The more I say it, the more convinced I am and the better I feel.
Unfortunately the improvement
