(Continued from Yeah Yeah Yeahs)
He takes my hand, leads me through the crowd. I trot behind him wearing a silly grin. This, I tell myself, is normal behaviour; necessary even, given how packed the room is.
We reach the other side of the dance floor.
‘I can’t see them,’ he says.
I scan the crowd, looking for his friends.
We make our way over. ‘Friends’, it turns out, is actually Friend, singular; the others have disappeared off somewhere. I stand there sipping my drink whilst the two guys chat. Friend is probably wondering what the hell I’m doing there, and he’s not the only one. Two hours ago I was Scottish dancing in a church. Now I’m drinking gin in a club in Clapham with a guy I kind of know from university – a guy I’ve asked out not once, but twice.
(TO BE CONTINUED)