Having got ridiculously drunk on horrible cheap wine, I started having a chat with one of the boys. We started by talking about the place where we both used to live, and about a mutual friend (who was, by this point, so drunk he fell off his chair). Somehow we ended up sitting away from everyone else, snuggled up while sitting on two little stools.
This has happened once before.
The first time, he kissed me when we were messing about on the sofa, much to my surprise. After that, I thought things had returned to normal. We'd gone out for coffee a couple of times, and we saw each other in the pub of course.
This time, we didn't kiss. He had his hand on my knee, and I had mine on his. I hadn't noticed how bright his eyes were before. A piercing blue, that I'd always found quite watery. They looked more intense than I remembered them. We leant towards each other. I could feel his breath on my face. Our lips brushed together, but we both shifted back so it was nothing more. We stayed like this, close enough to kiss but not letting it happen.
Suddenly it was as if a light had been shone in our alcoholic state, and we stood up. He made excuses:
"Everyone's looking. My friend is watching us, she'll be annoyed with me."
I said, "Nobody's looking. But you're getting married."
I tired of drinking, as my head hurt and the wine was making my stomach ache and my eyesight blur. We walked up to the train station, arm in arm.
He said he couldn't kiss me because he'd feel bad. I said, "Don't."
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