"How could you tell, with his tongue down your throat?"

Alex missed his shot as Em shrieked. "Oh, my god, did I actually do that?"

Kate laughed. "I considered taking a picture, since I knew you wouldn’t believe it later."

"Must have been the evil twin, the one that took all those naughty pictures of Alex." She looked over to Alex, hoping to share a smile, but he wouldn’t look at her, paying strict attention to Damien’s shot, hoping he looked bored with their gossip.

Keith, however, took great joy in teasing her about her adventures, so Alex got to hear every detail of how Alain flirted with her and they ended up in the corner of the club, kissing "like teenagers," in Em’s words.

Why was he so jealous? He and Em were only friends, she had made it very clear that was all she was interested in. He’d never been quite this jealous when they were together, but then again he’d never doubted for a moment how much she’d loved him.

He barely recognized the woman lying on the couch, dressed in expensive, sexy clothes, with the million dollar haircut and perfect makeup. She was a highly polished version of the rough cut he’d fallen in love with, was she the same at all?

If she was so different, why was he jealous? Why not just let Alain have her, flirt with her and whisk her away to Paris?

Because her eyes bordered on blue when she was this happy, and her laughter was achingly familiar. He wanted to take her to their old cafe and eat breakfast while reading the papers, and just listen to her laugh. A polished Em was still Em.

Damien won the snooker game while Alex was pondering Em, and Kate and Keith left Em to congratulate him. She was lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, and Alex went over to her. Considering her very tight, very shiny silver pants, he shook his head. "What are you wearing, Em?"

"Aren’t they cool? Kate made me wear them."

"Its nice you can blame her when you do foolish things."

Em raised an eyebrow. "Ask half the men in London how foolish these pants are. I look fucking hot."

He had to admit she was rather sexy in her silver pants and a black silk shirt with only two buttons strategically buttoned. He found himself wondering what she was wearing under them, as they were quite tight...

"No. I am not wearing knickers, before you ask."

"I wasn’t-" he protested, and she cut him off with a laugh.

"It was the pick up line of the evening, and oh so clever. After three drinks, I wasn’t even embarrassed any longer."

With a sigh, he sat on the floor next to the couch, looking at her face. It was easier to carry on a conversation when he didn’t have to stare at her legs. "Its nice to hear you realize that you’re an attractive woman."

She laughed, stretching her arms above her head. "I didn’t believe it a year ago."

"I don’t know why. I told you all the time, I can think of a million examples off the top of my head."

She turned her head to look at him, smiling softly. "I know. But then I only believed it when you told me. Now I’m quite capable of knowing that I look good without anyone else’s affirmation."

"Where did your confidence come from? Not just in the way you look, in everything. You were so calmly in charge at the video shoot, even with that cunt being condescending to you."

She laughed. "I’m glad I appeared that way."

"Don’t tell me you were unsure. I won’t believe you."

"Well..." Looking up at the ceiling, she considered her answer. "I was far more frightened of that camera than I was of you lot. You never did see me teach a class. Classroom management skills serve me well with pop stars."

"I mentioned that to a journalist."

"Fucking great. I’m almost surprised we didn’t make the tabloids, with all those reporters on the set the second day."

"I think they’re afraid of getting sued."

"Ah, yes, the evil Em strikes again," she giggled.

"The good Em never would have yelled at me."

Surprised, she looked back at him, only catching the side of his face as he looked away from her, studiously examining the snooker table in front of him, counting the cigarette butts on the floor. "When did I yell at you? Oh... well, my credibility would have been shot if I had let you fight my battles for me."

"I wasn’t-"

"You would have had I let you. I’m a big girl now, I can take care of myself."

He turned to her. "I would never imply otherwise."

She met his eyes for a moment. "I am not the same girl you fell in love with."

"I know. I miss her sometimes."

Wondering just how drunk he had to be to admit that, she looked back up at the ceiling. She had to wonder how drunk she was, as well, and whether or not she ever wanted to have this conversation with him. "I don’t. I have been unhappy most of my life, always searching for my reflection in someone else’s eyes to make me feel whole. Just in the last few months have I figured out who I am. No reflections, just me."

His voice was quiet, full of sincerity. "I never-"

She put up a hand to stop him, still looking up, unable to meet his eyes. "I know you didn’t. But I did. I’m not trying to say that I was unhappy with you, please believe that. Our problems were my fault, not because of anything you did."

"Hardly! You weren’t the one tearing off like a fool, believing Jarvis’ lies."

"But you wouldn’t’ve done that if I hadn’t given you reason to believe him." The word hovered there in the air between, just like it always had. Rape. She’d admitted it to him once, as they were breaking up, spitting at him because he’d taken advantage of the fact that she’d kept it a secret from him. The subject had become far bigger than the reality because of the silence.

"That was only part of it, Em."

"Oh?"

"He gave me a very convenient alibi. Suddenly if we broke up it would be your fault, not mine."

"Were you just looking for an excuse?" A tear tickled her cheek and she wiped it away angrily, glad that he was looking away from her again.

He hesitated a moment before answering, afraid of her hurting her. "Not consciously. It took me a long time to realize how terrified I was of you."

She laughed, bitterly. "Terrified? Of me?"

"Of what you could mean in my life. I could have spent the rest of my life with you."

Could have. Past tense. She covered her eyes with a hand, willing her heart to stop breaking. It was in the past, hadn’t she come to terms with the fact she wasn’t Alex’s one and only long ago? Hell, there had never been a time when she thought that Alex would love her for the rest of her life. Not for a moment had she believed it was forever for him.

Perhaps that was what hurt so badly now, to know that he did think that, if even only in a moment of regret after she had left.

"Why was that terrifying?"

He could hear the barely concealed tears in her voice, and cursed himself for saying anything. What purpose did it serve? Just to make himself feel better, to make her believe that he had loved her.

Suddenly he understood why she had been trying to convince herself and others that he hadn’t loved her. It was easier to believe that he had never loved her at all than to think that he did love her and chose to hurt her so deliberately.

After all, how painful was it to think that she’d been sleeping with Jarvis? Nothing could ever convince him that Em didn’t love him, so how could she be cheating on him?

With the clarity of hindsight, he saw how his mind had leaped to a way out of the relationship, instead of letting logic outweigh jealousy. She had far too much power over his life, better to end it.

"I wasn’t ready for you, Em. I didn’t deserve you by half."

"And you didn’t want to give up the life of a pop star to be with me. Don’t make it seem like you weren’t selfish."

"I wouldn’t attempt to deny that."

Suddenly angry, she sat up, the movement making him look at her. "You have no idea what I did and gave up for you. I destroyed my career, my life, almost all my friendships for you. You left me alone and frightened in the middle of a strange country, and you didn’t even care."

He stood up, and she stood up with him, not wanting him to be taller. "Don’t fucking assume that I didn’t care."

"You never called. Not once. You fucked me over, quite literally, and I didn’t get so much as a ‘sorry’ on my answering machine."

"Sorry. There, happy?"

Neither of them even noticed there were other people in the room, all of whom were watching now that a quiet discussion had turned into screaming.

"Fuck you, Alex. Don’t try to make up with me now that I’m famous and successful and it will make you look bad to be the boy that broke Em Evesham’s heart. You never cared about me, why should you start now?"

"Stop saying that! You’re telling all our friends that I never loved you, and that’s bullshit. Its easier for you to believe that, but its making my life hell."

"Its all about you, isn’t it? It always was, we always did what you wanted when you wanted."

"I never asked for that! If you’d had a fucking backbone then, maybe you wouldn’t feel like such a victim now. Don’t blame me for your weakness."

"Perhaps not, but I can blame you for taking advantage of it."

"When? Name me one fucking time that you weren’t perfectly agreeable to anything I suggested." She drew breath to answer and he went on. "OK, once. Once, Em. The fucking Ecstasy incident, and you never let me live it down."

Keith and Damien exchanged a look, wondering about the alleged incident, and Kate answered. "He cajoled her into taking it, she hated it."

"How can anyone hate E?" wondered Keith, and Kate shushed him with a look.

"I’ll tell you later," she snapped, turning back to the argument.

"Did you ever once stop to consider that I was in school? I had 9 o’clock classes and papers to do."

"How was I supposed to know that? You never mentioned it. Like so many other things you chose not share with me."

"Why should I have? When did you ever give me a hint that you might care about my life outside of how it affected yours?"

He pushed aside the twinge of guilt at that one. His selfish actions had run through his head on many sleepless nights thinking about her. "You painted quite the picture of a perfect suburban life, why would I have doubted that? You always seemed happy and content to me."

"That was a fucking effort, let me tell you."

"Sorry!" he snarled. "I never fucking asked that from you. I wouldn’t’ve have left you if one day you had woken up in a bad mood. I’ve been through worse, I’m not that fucking fickle. And do you think I never made sacrifices for you? Damien can attest to the fact that I virtually stopped seeing him because of you."

"I never asked you to do that!"

"You hated him! You still hate him."

"So we didn’t get along, I didn’t make you stop seeing him. You could have spent one night away from me to be with him."

"I didn’t want to. It wasn’t even a choice, you won every fucking battle."

"Fucking grand," Damien muttered. "Thrown over for a girl, yet again."

Em glared over at him. "Yeah, well, he’s all yours now, no stupid girls to get in the way of your snooker games and drunken rampages."

"Why are you yelling at me? What did I ever do to make you break up?" Damien replied, confused by this turn of events.

"You never thought I was good enough for him, and you told him that all the fucking time."

"You just heard the man. You won, Em. Far be it from me to stand in the way of true love."

"Bullshit, Damien," Alex stepped closer to him. "How many times did you try to take Kate from me?"

"That wasn’t true love, now was it, Alex? That was jealousy and infatuation, and neither you nor Kate were happy in the middle of that."

"That was my decision to make, not yours."

Oh, god, Kate. It all came back to Kate.

I was just about to accept that he had loved me once, far more than I’d let myself believe, and then it had turned into him and Damien snarling over Kate Gordon.

What had turned into that? My god, had I just been screaming at Alex? In front of Damien and Keith and my Kate?

My surely horrified eyes met hers and she was by my side in an instant. "You were great, Emmie. You needed to yell at him like that."

"In front of such an audience?"

"Ah, we’re all drunk, we won’t remember in the morning."

"Drunk? I am feeling far from drunk. Oh, fuck..." The room spun and I held on to the snooker table for support. When I opened my eyes again, I had Kate on one side and Keith on the other, both looking at me with concern. Alex and Damien were still arguing on the other side of the room.

"Are you alright, love?" Keith asked, sounding for all the world like the good dad that he was.

Oh, I wanted my daddy. I wanted a nice man to stroke my hair and tell me that everything was going to be ok, that someday Alex would stop hurting me. Just when I thought it was going to be ok, that we could be friends, he had to do this, telling me I was a spineless wonder when I was with him.

"I need to go home." Whatever that means. I bit back a sob, remembering my long email conversation with Alex about home.

"Ok, let’s go. Keith, will you go and hail us a cab while I find her things?"

He took off without hesitation, and I nearly cried at his kindness. "Katie, I can get-"

She cut me off. "Just stand there, Em. You’re white as a sheet."

I felt terrible, now that she mentioned it. Too much alcohol or too much emotion, I could hardly tell. Suddenly Alex’s quiet, kind voice was next to me, saying my name.

No. No, I cannot bear it if he is kind to me now. I will cry, and he cannot see me cry.

"Emmie, I-"

"Not now, Alex. Please. We’ve both said enough." Please don’t let him notice the edge of hysteria in my voice. Please.

"Shoes, purse, let’s go. Alex, leave her alone." Kate escorted me up the steps to the main floor and I had such difficulty navigating that I didn’t even think to look back.

The cool air outside was a welcome shock, clearing my head and letting me take a deep breath. Keith had a cab for us, I had no idea how, as the sun was just peeking over the horizon.

"Your chariot awaits, madam."

I walked over to him. "You liked me, didn’t you, Keith?"

"I still like you, Em. I could tell from the beginning that you are a sweet girl, far too nice for the likes of a degenerate like Alex."

Shaking my head, I sighed deeply. "Thank you. I must go home and sob heartily now."

"Your home or mine, Emmie?"

Sliding into the cab, I glanced up at Kate. "Mine. Alone. I’ll call you later."

She began to say something, then nodded, understanding. "Ok."

Keith shut the door and off we were. I read the street signs with great interest, not wanting to think about anything that had just happened. Had Alex really accused me of acting like a victim? Had he really said he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with me?

Moaning quietly to myself, I leaned my head against the window. No. Best not to think. Maybe after some sleep.

I concentrated very hard on paying the driver and then navigating my way up to my hideous apartment. The elevator doors slid shut behind me and I ran for the bathroom as my stomach twisted. This was going to be a very, very bad hangover.

The phone shrilled through my head and I opened my eyes slowly, shutting them as the light blinded me. A voice rambled onto the answering machine, but I couldn’t place it as familiar.

"Emma, I am about to take Jarvis’ key and force my way into your fucking flat! It’s 7pm, you cannot be that hungover. Call me."

It took a few minutes for the words to make sense, and then I sat up slowly. Why would there be light at 7 in the evening? I squinted at the lamp beside my bed and switched it off.

Ah, blessed darkness. There was a light on somewhere else... the bathroom?

My mind rebelled at thinking about the bathroom, so I let it, looking down at myself. Naked. I never slept naked. I was too prim for that.

Blinking, I conjured a vague memory of peeling off my tinfoil pants before getting into the shower...

God, I’m not hungover. This isn’t familiar because its a drunk hangover, its from a crying jag. I hadn’t felt this bad since Alex left me and I was unable to leave my flat.

I’d come home, stumbled into the bathroom, thrown up most of what I’d drunk last night and then fallen into the shower, hoping that would help me feel better. Instead I’d sobbed until the water ran freezing.

Over a million things, none of which I could deal with right now, so I skipped over that part.

Freezing shower, somehow I’d made my way into the bed, where I’d cried myself to sleep. Now I was awake.

I’d be damned if I allowed him to make me hide again. One crying jag, fine, but I was not going to give into these urges to fall asleep again. I hated feeling like this. I had felt this way for months, it’d been awful.

Clinging to my anger, I got out of bed and slipped into my favourite robe, finding my slippers and some underwear, then wondered what to do next.

Do not crawl back into bed. Don’t be stupid, Em, its not like he left you again. It was a fight that needed to be had, but nothing had really changed in my life.

Glancing around the apartment, I noticed the answering machine was blinking at me angrily. Kate. Kate again. Keith. Susan, wondering where I was, as I’d missed a meeting about the Oasis project.

Fuck. One fucking argument and already I was screwing up my life because of him.

Kate again. Susan again.

Alex. "I’m sorry. I’m not just saying that because you yelled at me for never apologizing last night, I’m sorry. Truly. You don’t have to call me back, I wouldn’t be surprised if you never spoke to me again. But I’m sorry."

I erased all the messages, not wanting to hear his sweet sincere voice again. I didn’t have time to brood over it, I had to deflect Kate from coming here to check on me and to tell Susan I was still alive.

I accomplished both in short order, cutting off all attempts at conversation. I didn’t want to talk, I didn’t want to think... but I wasn’t sure what else I wanted to do.

Email? Maybe one of the girls had written, I could immerse myself in tales of Astrid’s love life instead of my own.