Page 82 of Who’s That Girl?

And all at once both sides merge and it’s like two people suddenly become one. Oh my God, that’s why he seemed familiar, that’s where I’ve met him before. Sweet, lovely toyboy Olly who I have a bit of a crush on is the barman who thinks my food allergies are funny. Who poured champagne tonight at my birthday and asked me if I was allergic to bubbles. And who bugs the complete hell out of me.

It’s him. They’re one and the same person. Shit.

Chapter Twenty-four

‘There you are!’

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I twirl round on my bar stool to see Lottie bright-eyed and breathless from dancing. ‘I wondered where you’d got to.’

‘Oh … hi,’ I manage dazedly. I feel as if someone just knocked me on the head with a cartoon hammer and I’m seeing stars.

‘Propping up the bar, where’d you think?’ quips Olly in an attempt to talk to her, but she’s busy tying up her hair and isn’t paying attention.

‘Um … Lottie, have you met—’ I make a stab at an introduction, but she interrupts me by gushing excitedly, ‘Come and dance!’

‘No, no … I don’t think so,’ I say, automatically shrinking back.

‘Come on,’ she encourages, grabbing me by my wrist.

Then again, I don’t really want to sit here talking to Olly now I’ve discovered who he is. It just feels too awkward. I mean, what am I going to say? Why did you turn into someone so obnoxious?

Yeah, right. Exactly.

‘Well, OK,’ I acquiesce, ‘just for one song,’

But she’s not listening – she’s too busy pulling me off my bar stool. And before I know it, I’m being dragged alive and against my will on to the dance floor.

Fuck.

It’s like that dream where you’re naked and walking through the town centre. Only this isn’t a dream. It’s a nightmare. I curse silently, looking frantically for an escape route and realising I don’t have one. I’m stuck frozen like a rabbit in headlights. Or should that be strobe lights? Surrounded by lots of gyrating bodies and with nowhere to hide.

Argh, this is hideous. Feeling as if every single pair of eyes in the club are on me, I take a deep breath and try to move my feet, but it’s as if they’re encased in heavy lumps of concrete. My arms, on the other hand, are like two ornaments that I don’t know what to do with. I wave them about uncertainly and waggle my elbows. Only I’m not sure what I’m doing. Apart from looking like a total idiot, I think, feeling mortified.

You see, the thing is, I’m a rubbish dancer. Some people are blessed with natural rhythm, but I’m not one of them. I’m the only person in the whole of Wembley Stadium who clapped out of time to ‘We Will Rock You’ at a concert. Try it, it’s almost impossible. And yet I managed to.

Saying that, it doesn’t seem to be stopping Lottie, I note, glancing across at her. Waving her arms around, she’s bopping away, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that she looks like a duck. In fact she’s so unconcerned by it, everybody else around her seems unconcerned by it. I’m not sure anyone’s even noticed, I realise, glancing around at all the other people on the dance floor.

Reluctantly, I tie my jacket round my waist and attempt to copy her as she gets on down. Only I’m older now and it’s a lot harder to get back up again. Ouch. Feeling a twinge in my lower back, I grimace. This is torture. Thank God I don’t have to endure birthdays like this any more. OK, so dinner tonight ended a touch early, and Miles falling asleep on the sofa was a bit annoying, but a nice low-key evening at a restaurant is a much better way to celebrate than being imprisoned in some hot, sweaty club and forced to dance. Relief rushes over me. Thank God I’m not twenty-two any more. Thank God my clubbing days are over. Thank God—

I stiffen, my shoulders back, my head up, like a meerkat. Until now, the music’s just been a sort of blurred din that’s washed over me, but now I hear a couple of familiar chords.

Hang on. Is that …?

It’s like an injection of delight.

Oh my God, it is! Ironic by Alanis Morissette. I haven’t heard it for years. Ooh, I love this song.

Feeling a rush of energy, my hips begin wiggling involuntarily. Then it’s my waist. And now my shoulders. Gosh, this is so great. I start bopping away to the jangling guitar. I can’t help it. My body won’t stay still. It’s impossible. Oh wow, I can even remember all the words! Twirling round, my makeshift ponytail comes undone, but I ignore it, and begin singing along. Quiet at first, then louder and louder.

And now it’s the chorus and I’ve got my eyes closed and I’m throwing my arms in the air and belting out the lyrics at the top of my lungs. And in this moment I’m thinking about nothing. Nothing but dancing to this song. Losing myself in the chorus. Leaving behind all my worries and doubts, and totally letting myself go.

This is amazing! I feel great! I feel euphoric! I feel …

Someone gyrating their hips up next to me.

Snapping open my eyes, I whirl round and come crotch to crotch with a stranger who smiles at me suggestively.

Oh, no.