‘Valentina,’ Dylan bellows from the mezzanine. I look up and see my new best friend practically hanging over the banister to wave at me. ‘I just had sex.’
Everyone in the room laughs wildly at Dylan being Dylan. I just roll my drunk little eyes.
In a matter of minutes Dylan is downstairs, placing both hands on my cheeks as he slurs his words at me.
‘I hope you know how fucking awesome you are,’ he says.
‘I hope you washed your hands,’ I reply.
He laughs.
‘Are you having fun?’
‘I am,’ I reply. ‘Even though I sang, amped up, terribly, in front of musical royalty. It was fun.’
‘You think three fifths of the original One Direction line-up give a shit if you can sing?’ he asks.
‘It’s the hottest three fifths, though. But it’s cool,’ I reply. ‘I’m having a blast. I hope you are too.’
‘I am, man. I am. Oh!’
Dylan gets distracted by two guys.
‘Mia, meet Zander and Finn. Boys, meet Mia. These lads are my best mates,’ he tells me.
I shake hands with Zander and Finn, who I recognise from a band called Ganzás who I believe are currently still hanging around in the top-five section of the album chart, after their debut release was an absolute smash.
‘Nice to meet you,’ I tell them.
‘I fucking love these lads,’ Dylan tells me as he wraps an arm around them both.
‘We love you too, dude. We love you too,’ Zander says. ‘We’re going to a club, you guys wanna come?’
‘Yeah!’ Dylan shouts. ‘Valentina, you coming?’
‘Erm, OK, sure,’ I say, giving in to peer pressure. Well, it’s late, and even though Dylan said I could stay in one of his spare rooms, I don’t much want to stay here without him, especially with him leaving while the party is still in full swing. It might be my responsibility to make sure no one does anything wrong and I don’t want that kind of burden.
‘Sweet,’ Dylan says. ‘Let’s do this.’
Stepping outside the front door, I realise it’s snowing.
‘Wow, it’s so pretty,’ I say, watching as the tiny flakes float down, landing on Dylan’s beautifully lit, long driveway.
‘Don’t worry, we’re in the Range,’ Finn says, unlocking his black Range Rover. ‘Hop in.’
Finn and Zander get in the front while Dylan and I get in the back.
‘I’m DJing,’ Dylan insists, leaning into the front to grab the AUX cable.
‘No way, dude, you’ll put your own music on,’ Zander says with a laugh.
‘Oi, I’ve sold more fucking albums than you ever could,’ Dylan corrects him.
As we drive along the road, I snuggle into my heated seat. It feels glorious, but I’m hyped for this swanky club we’re going to, that I’d never be able to get into without a few rockstars in tow.
I take my phone from my bag and see I have eight missed calls from my mum. Brilliant. There’s also a message from her that says: ‘Need to talk you’ve done it this time stop trying to ruin Reading.’ My mum has never been great at texting, so I’m going to assume a combination of anger, lack of texting skills and the ever-helpful autocorrect function has caused her to type ‘Reading’ instead of ‘wedding’ – then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if she thought I had some kind of hidden agenda to ruin Reading. She’s accused me of far stranger things in the past. I decide to ignore her for now, instead opening the one message I’ve received from Leo. ‘Sorry about earlier. Have an amazing time and we’ll figure this our later. I love you xxx’ it reads. I begin typing a reply: ‘Having a great time, but miss you. I lo—’
My body is thrown forwards, only for a split second before my seatbelt does its job, grabbing my body tightly, yanking me back towards my seat, which the back of my head hits forcefully. ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ by Slade, one of the songs Dylan chose for the journey, is still booming loudly. The only thing louder is the ringing in my ears.
I look to my left to see Dylan clutching his chest as he takes off his seatbelt and climbs out of the car. Amid a cloud of white powder I see Zander and Finn fighting their airbags to do the same. I struggle to unfasten my own seatbelt before gathering with them at the side of the road.
I notice my ankle hurting as I limp over to where the guys are standing. I don’t know exactly what happened but we’ve hit a tree head-on.
‘Fuck,’ Dylan says. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’
‘What happened?’ I ask.
Dylan, wincing in pain, wraps his arms around me and holds me close. I’m shivering, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m out in the snow wearing nothing but a tiny dress, or if it’s because of the crash. I think it’s both.
‘Finn, dude, what gives? We’re on a empty road, you hit some ice or something?’
‘I.. I think so,’ he replies. There’s an unsure look on his white, powder-covered face. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘You don’t remember?’ I say. ‘What are you, drunk?’
‘No,’ Finn replies quickly. ‘Of course not.’
I was being sarcastic but suddenly we’re all a little suspicious.
‘Catch this,’ Dylan says quickly as he tosses his iPhone in Finn’s direction. Finn, who is appearing more and more obviously drunk by the second, doesn’t even have time to look in Dylan’s direction before the phone smacks him in the face.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he shrieks as he claps his hands over his mouth where the phone struck him.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ I scream at him. ‘You’re driving us late at night, through a blizzard, and you’re drunk.’
‘It’s OK, Mia,’ Dylan assures me, rubbing my shoulders gently to keep me warm. ‘I’ll sort this.’
‘We gotta make this go away, dude,’ Zander says. ‘Our career is just getting going, we can’t have a scandal like this. Dylan, the press will have a field day with you. And you…’ Zander points at me. ‘Doesn’t look great for you, driving around at night with a bunch of musicians.’
I feel my eyebrows shoot up.
‘Fuck you,’ I say. ‘Fuck you and your drunk-driving fucking bandmate.’
‘Come on, Dylan, help us out,’ Finn says. ‘You can make this go away.’
Dylan looks at me.
‘Dill, you can’t just cover this up,’ I say quietly. ‘Look at you. I can see the pain on your face every time you move, my ankle is hurting – we both need to get to hospital and when we do they’re going to ask questions.’
‘She’s right, man,’ Dylan tells them.
It’s so cold my teeth begin to chatter.
‘We could say you were driving,’ Finn suggests.
‘Me?’ I squeak.
‘Yeah, you don’t have as much to lose,’ he replies.
‘I’m drunk, not insured to drive this car and I don’t even have a licence,’ I tell him.
‘Enough,’ Dylan shouts. He pushes through his pain to grab his phone from the floor and dials 999, requesting the appropriate emergency services.
‘I’m fucked,’ Finn cries. ‘Fucked.’
As the Ganzás boys panic about their future, Dylan leads me away from them and sits me down on a wall. Without a moment’s thought he takes off one of his socks, fills it with snow and holds it against my ankle.
‘Mia, I never would’ve let you get in the car if I’d known he was drunk,’ he says seriously. ‘I never would’ve got in myself.’
I place a hand lightly on his cold face.
‘I know,’ I assure him. ‘This isn’t your fault. And I’ll make sure everyone knows it.’
‘This is gonna be all over the fucking news,’ he says with a sigh.
It’s a weird night tonight, out here on this road, with no one around. He’s lucky he crashed by a park, with no buildings or people around, or this could have been a lot worse. It’s somehow simultaneously pitch-black and so light out, thanks to all the snow. It’s falling so slowly and gently now, piling up on top of what has already settled, flakes landing in our hair and on our skin, holding their unique formations for a second or two before melting due to our slowly decreasing body heat.
I bend and extend my fingers on my left hand. It hurts a little. In fact it feels kind of swollen. I quickly remove my engagement ring and pop it in my bag. I would hate for my hand to swell up more, and for it to have to be cut off.
Perhaps it was because I’ve been drinking myself, but I can’t believe I got in a car with a drunk person. How did I not realise? Even if he’s only slightly over the limit or whatever, the limit exists for a reason.
The snow turns blue as the flashing lights approach us.
In a flurry of police officers and paramedics, I remember my phone flying out of my hand when we crashed.
I make a move for the car.
‘Miss, please stay away from the vehicle,’ a policeman informs me.
‘I just need my phone,’ I tell him.
‘No, you need to go to hospital and get checked out,’ he corrects me. ‘We will have your phone brought to you when it’s safe.’
Shit. I need to call Leo and let him know I’m OK. I just need to pray he doesn’t find out about this from someone else before I get chance to tell him.