‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand, “Single Sav.”’ He articulates Savannah’s blog handle like it’s the filthiest word he’s ever heard.
Heat flames my cheeks.
Not here, Dan.
Not now.
‘Holly, this is your last chance.’ Angry pupils burn with torrid flames. ‘If you don’t come home with me now, it’s over between us.’
Every trace of saliva evaporates from my tongue, leaving it suddenly drier than a desert in midsummer.
‘Holly…’ Dan’s voice drops two more octaves in a clear warning.
A rush of adrenaline jolts through me. ‘I’m not going anywhere with you, Dan. Not now. Not ever again.’
‘Cheers to that!’ Ashley and Savannah clink glasses, shameless in their glee.
Then again, Dan was pretty shameless when he marched over here with his demands.
‘Who do you think you are? Messing me around for months, leading me on, then disobeying me.’ Dan straightens his blazer. ‘Nobody treats me this way and gets away with it. I will ruin you, Holly Hazelwood.’ Swivelling on his heels, he marches back towards the bar, disappearing into the throng of people.
Ashley puffs out a long breath. ‘Wow. That was intense.’
My hammering heart eventually slows, relief inching over each vertebrae of my spine.
‘I can’t believe that jumped-up little prick.’ Savannah was never one to mince her words. When we were six-years-old, one of her two adoptive fathers asked what she thought of the birthday cake he made for her.
Her reply, ‘It tastes like horseshit,’ delivered with her award-winning smile and flick of her golden locks was enough to incite laughter from every adult and child in the room.
She wasn’t lying.
The cake was horrific.
There aren’t many times in her life that Sav has wished for a mother, but that day I know she had romantic notions of a Mary Berry type figure.
‘Good riddance.’ I swat my hand in front of my face, trying to waft away any lingering negativity in the air. ‘Let’s drink this and order another bottle.’
Two hours later, Mariah Carey blasts out again, just in case anyone missed it the first time. With any remaining reservations finally eradicated by alcohol, I grab a Santa hat from a guy sitting at the table next to us. Engrossed in conversation with the pretty brunette next to him, he doesn’t even glance round as I whip it from his head.
‘On your feet, girls!’ My boobs bounce effusively in my dress as we elbow our way to the edge of the dancefloor, stealing a spot where it’s not quite so crowded.
Freedom flows through my veins. Or maybe it’s just the Sancerre. Though tonight, they’re one and the same. I feel lighter than I have in weeks. Swaying against my friends, a grin of sheer ecstasy rips across my face as my eyelids flutter closed, and I melt into the music.
As Mariah reaches her infamous crescendo, I swing my arms up, shimmying my shoulders to the beat.
It’s only when the air hits my nipples that I realise I’m not the only one who’s broken free from something controlling tonight.
The corset has burst open and my breasts are bouncing in all their liberated glory, in full view of the entire bar.
Some people point.
Other’s cup their mouths with their hands while they elbow their companions.
Someone wolf whistles.
The last thing I see before I run for the door, arms cradling my chest, is Dan clutching his mobile phone, a knowing smirk on his pursed lips.
ChapterTwo
