I'm pushing my way through a crowded dance floor. My back is stinging from being thrown against the wall. Somewhere in the night club a girl is crying. Sweat is dripping down my face and someone has a hold of my wrist.
I shake them off. Outside the air is bitter, wet, refreshing.
They are still following me, but I don't acknowledge them. As I pull my coat over my shoulders I realise that it's Mark.
"What are you doing?
"I'm going home. Fuck off. Where does she live?"
"Don't be stupid. Sit down"
"I want to go home."
The girl crying inside is H. We've been friends for years. Tonight is her birthday. But that doesn't stop her pushing me against the wall. And it doesn't stop me from threatening to hit her.
She's crying because I've just told a girl that I fucked her brother. And when this girl wouldn't leave me alone, stamping on my feet, I pushed her. And she fell on the floor. She is stupid drunk.
Apparently I "slapped her down". But let them talk.
I've probably just had this shittest, most expensive weekend that I've had in a long time. To be honest I'd written the night off from the start.