Luckily, I have enough brains to grab my denim jacket off the coat rack, where it hangs by the front door, the second I step foot into the house. Not two seconds after I've shrugged it on over my ratty, ripped T-shirt, George appears in the kitchen doorway. He takes one look at me standing in the hallway, sighs, and motions for me to join him in the kitchen. I try not to nervously faff with the hair that blankets the left side of my forehead as I follow after him, for fear that I might accidentally wipe the makeup away to reveal the inky-green skin beneath.

It's pretty accurate to say that George and Stella, who sits restlessly at the kitchen table, aren't very happy with me. I lean against the counter whilst they give me a big (and I'm fairly certain rehearsed) lecture on how important it is that they know where I am at all times.

I sit and listen to their rants, nodding where appropriate and telling them I'm sorry.

They say they know I'm eighteen, and as such should be entitled to more freedom, but they still need me to let them know in advance. Apparently, it's up to me to set an example for the minors of the household.

I tell them I'm sorry again.

They tell me not to let it happen again.

I promise them it won't.

And that's pretty much the end of the conversation as the sound of the front door slamming thunders through the house, accompanied by Bailey's shouting. George sighs and stands up, soon followed by Stella as they walk off to be the Bailey-Karen peacekeepers.

I see my exit and run for it, escaping up to my room before anyone can clock my battered clothes. I get changed into some grey sweats and a maroon knitted jumper, swapping my shoes for some bed socks and collapsing onto my bed with a sigh.

What a night.

My phone pings and I quickly fish it out the pocket of my discarded jeans, leaning back against the pillows as I read the text. It's from Megan.

'Yo!! Are you ignoring me? I'm bored. Let's do something. X'

I roll my eyes at the text and type out a reply.

'Going out with Dylan in a few. Maybe later? X'

'Your boyfriend sucks. I'm better. Come hang with me instead :P x'

'Can't :P Gotta get something for Bailey's birthday. You can come join if you want? X'

'And third wheel on your crappy shopping date?? No thanks, I think I'll pass. Message as soon as you're done and we can go out and grab some food or something, yeah? X'

'Sounds good x'

I take note of the time at the top of my phone and realise I need to start getting ready, not wanting to make a habit of running late each time Dylan comes to the house to pick me up. I grab what I need and head downstairs for a shower, tuning out the shouts coming from the living room as I lock the door behind me.

I should probably warn him to stay in the car when he arrives.

As it turns out, however, it doesn't matter that I forget to warn him. He recognises Karen's car, dropping me a text to let me know when he's outside.

I call out a quick goodbye to Stella and George, hopping on one foot as I shove on my second trainer before heading out the door. I'm surprised to find a car waiting outside for me, my boyfriend sat behind the wheel.

He must've sweet talked his dad into letting him use it for a few hours.

"Good morning, gorgeous," he greets enthusiastically as I drop into the passenger seat. "You look great."

I smile and lean over to give him a kiss, knowing fully well that I'm not kitted out in anything special. Jeans and the jumper I had on earlier, with no makeup other than what I used to cover my forehead.

"We get the car?" I ask.

"We get the car," he nods, starting the engine and driving off. "I figure if there's anywhere that'll have something that catches your eye, it'll be at the shopping centre."

Greencliff's shopping centre is, annoyingly, not actually in Greencliff. It's about a ten mile trip from my house, stuck off the main road in the middle of nowhere England. I've walked it a total of one time before, with Megan when we really fancied a shopping trip and had no access to a car. Buses only run every two to three hours around here (that's if they actually turn up) and our taxis are ridiculously overpriced, so we figured we'd make a day of it. It took three hours to get there and another three to get back, with a few hours of shopping and grabbing lunch in between. It was the walk back that nearly killed us, having to lug all the shopping with us as well. It had been fun, though, and an achievement of sorts, but never again.

When we arrive at the shopping centre Dylan has to drive around for ten minutes looking for a parking space. The place is packed, as it usually is on a Saturday, but we eventually find one at the very far end of the car park and Dylan parks up before anyone else gets a chance to. We climb out and Dylan reaches for my hand as we make our way towards the main entrance.

"Okay, so where should we go first?" he asks when we get inside, speaking over the noise of the crowded lobby.

"I don't know," I admit. "She likes music. And horror films." Although what she already owns, I have no idea.

"Well, that's a start," he says, weaving us through the current of shoppers to head towards HMV.

We spend a total of two hours walking around different shops, picking up a couple of things, deciding against them, and putting them back. With each new shop we try and fail in, I grow more frustrated. Buying a birthday present shouldn't be this hard.

"Ugh. I have no idea what to get her," I groan as we exit yet another shop with our metaphorical tails between our legs.

"Let's take a break," he suggests, pulling me to the side as I'm nearly trampled by a group of rowdy teens. "I could do with some lunch, and so could you."

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Are you calling me grumpy?"

"Hey, don't be mad," he holds his hands up in mock surrender, grinning like the goddamn Cheshire cat. "Take it as a compliment. It makes you a Disney character."

I snort a laugh and roll my eyes, feeling some of my stress uncoil.

"I think I'd rather be a Disney princess."

"Nah," he shakes his head. "They're overrated. So, Grumpy, where do you want to eat?"

"Somewhere with food."

"Excellent choice."

We end up in a small diner-type place right next to the centre's front doors, taking a table for two in the back corner. I order some cheesy chips, Dylan a cheese and bacon toastie, and we decide to share them both between us. Once again, Dylan insists on paying, but I put my foot down and get him to at least let me buy the drinks. He has a sprite and I opt for a banana milkshake with whipped cream and sprinkles.

"Paws off, peabrain," I say, tapping his hand away as he reaches for my milkshake. Now, I'm not a particularly selfish person, but milkshakes are one of the few things I do refuse to share. They're just too good, you know?

"One day," he says, pointing at me from across the table. "I'll get a milkshake. And I won't share it. And you'll be sad."

"Oh, please," I roll my eyes, picking up a chip. "You don't buy milkshakes. You just try to steal mine."

"This is true," he nods. I roll my eyes and throw the chip at him. He shrugs and eats it.

All in all it's a good time, with Dylan trying (and failing) a few more times to nab my milkshake before all the food's gone and we're ready to leave. The thought of trailing around endless shops again, however, soon has the black cloud returning.

"We could always come back another day," he offers as we leave the diner. "You've got a few weeks yet. We could just head back to yours, have a movie day or something?"

I can't lie, a movie day sounds so much better than shopping right about now. Shopping is only fun when you know what to buy – or when you're splashing some cash on yourself – otherwise, it just gets tedious.

"Okay," I agree, only somewhat reluctantly. "Let's go. But we have to come back at some point. You can't let me forget."

"Deal" he says, more of a spring to his step now. I know for a fact that he only opted to come shopping today for the sake of my sanity. He hates this place, really. He seriously is the best boyfriend. "So what films do you want to watch? Happy Feet?"

"You hate Happy Feet," I remind him, rolling my eyes as we leave the shopping centre. He throws an arm over my shoulder as we make our way back to the car. "You're seriously going to willingly offer to watch it?"

"Sure," he shrugs, or tries to with his one arm draped around me.

I seriously consider it for a few seconds before shaking my head. I feel bad making him watch the same thing every time.

"Nah, you can choose this time," I tell him.

"Okay, then you can choose the second."

"There might not be a second," I tell him as we reach the car. "I've promised Meg I'll hang out with her later."

A frown instantly takes over his face. "Oh," he says. "Do you have to?"

"We can do something else tomorrow," I tell him, rolling my eyes. "I haven't hung out properly with Meg in ages."

I refuse to be one of those people who don't make time for their friends just because they're in a relationship. He knows this.

"What are you two going to do?" he asks.

"Grab some food somewhere, I think," I say with a shrug. "Nothing special."

"Bet you'd share your shakes with Megan," he says petulantly. I snort a laugh as we drive, shaking my head with a stupid grin plastered across my face.

***

"So," Megan says as we stroll down the street. She's not in the usual getup of full makeup, a dress and perfectly styled hair that I'm used to seeing her in outside of school. Instead, she's just opted for bare-faced and a messy bun, a blouse and some ripped jeans to accompany the look. It suits her, though. The girl could pull off anything and she knows it. "I've got a date Tuesday night."

"Greg?" I reply, both surprised and delighted. Dylan had said they'd been talking at Neil's party, maybe they've finally got their act together. I'm convinced they'd be a perfect match, even though Dylan swears he'll disown his friend for life if he gets with, and I quote, 'that buzzing bitchy queen bee'. I told him to play nice because that particular bee just so happens to be my best friend.

"Nah," she shakes her head. "Mike."

"Langford?" I ask, now just surprised. She's never mentioned him before, never really spoken to him either as far as I was aware. She doesn't take Psychology, which is the only way I really started talking to him.

"Yeah," she says, grinning from ear to ear. "Your boyfriend introduced us at the party the other night."

"Oh," I say, smiling too. She seems really excited and, whilst it's not the matchmaking pair I imagined, she deserves to have someone. It can't be fun having to third-wheel Dylan and I all the time. "He didn't mention that."

"Well, of course not," she rolls her eyes. "He was too busy off bro-ing it up with Greggy boy. We only spoke for, like, two minutes." She shrugs. "Just enough time to introduce me to Mr Mcdreamy. I've never really noticed him before, you know? But now I just can't stop..."

I zone out of her words as I think back to what Dylan had mentioned about the party. He must've gone over to Megan and Greg to introduce Mike and Megan, and then gone off to get blitzed with Greg. I shake my head and shrug off the disappointment of our usual four member squad group not being able to go out on double dates.

Okay, so maybe my reasoning for wanting Megan and Greg to work out is a tad selfish. It would've been fun, though.

"I gave him my number and he texted me the day after," Megan says, pulling me back to the conversation. "I think the plan is to go bowling, although I'm not entirely sure what to wear yet. I need to figure out something that's practical but also hot as shit. Wanna help? You could come round before to help me get ready."

"Sure," I agree, all too happy to return the favour she did me when I went on my first date with Dylan.

"We've got plans for September too," she says. She laughs when she sees my confused expression. "I know, I know. It seems a bit far away but it's a concert so we couldn't choose the date. He's a proper rocker, did you know that? Even plays the drums. Sexy. I'm really excited, even if before then we decide to just be friends, you know? I told him I've never heard of the band before so he just straight up told me he's taking me no matter what, all proper take-charge-like. Hot, right?"

"Right," I agree with a laugh, letting her go on her excited ramble without needing to add much input myself.

Sometimes, Megan is really easy to talk to – mainly because I don't need to talk at all.

She continues raving about Mike as we push open the door to the little corner pub down the end of my road. We've been here a handful of times before for a meal. The staff aren't always the best but the food isn't bad and the price is even better, so overall we can't complain.

We take a seat at an empty corner table in the back of the pub, moving the dirty glasses to the table next to us and sitting down. We nab some menus from the table next to us as well, glancing over the options.

"Any idea what you're having?" Megan asks, looking up at me.

"Probably just the lasagne," I say, closing my menu and trying to get a glance at the specials board to see if there's anything on there that catches my eye. Instead, what catches my eye is the familiar freckled face of Abigail from school.

She's just entered the pub with what appears to be her mum and little brother, looking around for a table to sit at. Our eyes meet as the trio walk closer to where Megan and I sit and she smiles, waving slightly. Then her eyes turn to Megan and something very odd happens. Her smile disappears and she glares.

Not a frown, not even a scowl, but a glare so fierce it could quite easily beat a Bailey-spectacular.

I glance curiously at Megan, seeing her narrowed eyes and slightly turned down mouth. She looks away from Abigail, glancing back down at her menu even though she's already closed it.

Abigail shakes her head and continues on past our table, not so much as uttering a small 'hello' as she walks by.

"Um, what was that?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at my best friend.

"What was what?"

"You and Abigail."

She shrugs.

"No idea. I heard through the grapevine that some kind of poisonous creature crawled up her ass and died. Maybe it's affecting her face now, too."

I raise an eyebrow slightly but decide not to comment, my attention turning to the young guy who comes to take our order. He takes our menus once we've ordered, promising to bring our drinks as fast as possible.

Throughout the meal I don't miss the not-so-subtle glances that Megan sends in the direction of Abigail, her frown growing deeper each time as she shovels food into her mouth.

"We kinda... got into an argument at Neil's party," she finally admits after the third time of me bugging her about what the beef is.

Weird. Abigail is the easiest person on the planet to get along with. A small hunch has me guessing that whatever the argument was about, Megan had started it. Don't get me wrong, I love the girl, but even I can admit that she has her faults.

"What about?" I ask.

She shakes her head and stabs at her food, mumbling out a quiet, "something dumb."

"Why don't you just apologise?"

"To her? Why should I?" she demands, her voice verging on snappy. "If she just kept her nose out of other people's business there wouldn't be a problem."

"Okay, okay," I hold my hands up in defence. "I'll just sit here silently in my seat of Switzerland and eat my lasagne."

She sighs, mutters out an apology and swiftly excuses herself to the toilets. I roll my eyes at her theatrics and pick up the dessert menu whilst I'm waiting. There's not a wide variety of choice but then I wasn't expecting there to be. Chocolate fudge cake, cheesecake, banana split, lemon sorbet-

"Hey."

I glance up from the menu as Abigail takes a seat on Megan's unoccupied chair. She looks a little uncomfortable but I put that down to the recent mortal enemy status she seems to have with my best friend.

"Hey," I greet with a smile.

Just because Megan has a problem with the girl doesn't mean that I do.

I wait for her to say something else but she doesn't and we lapse into an awkward silence. My smile slips a little as she taps her fingers against the table top.

"So..." I start. "How's your summer going?"

She sighs and shakes her head.

"Not good?" I guess.

"I have to tell you something," she says, her words surprising me.

"Okay..." I say, raising my eyebrows a little. "What's up?"

"It's about Megan."

Oh, right, their argument.

"And Dylan," she adds.

I frown, not sure what she's getting at.

"What about them?" I ask.

She briefly glances over in the direction of the toilet door, which Megan is yet to resurface from, before looking back at me and leaning forwards a bit.

"I was at Neil's party the other night and I saw them... together."

I laugh a little.

"Well, yeah, I mean they are friends. Well, kind of. So-"

"No. I mean, they were getting pretty close, you know?"

No. I don't know... and I don't think I want to know.

"Look, Abigail, I don't know what you think you saw but there's no way either of them would do that to me." My voice comes out a little harsh but I can't bring myself to feel bad. She's lying. She has to be.

They wouldn't. I know they wouldn't. And if they did – which they didn't – they would've at least told me. Besides, they hate each other, so they definitely didn't. Double besides, she clearly hates Megan right now and could be lying through her teeth.

"They went upstairs for a while, you know, together. I confronted Megan about it after but she just told me to piss off, said I didn't know what I was talking about. I just-" she shrugs and sighs. "I just thought you should know. Sorry if I stepped out of line."

Without another word she stands and walks back to her own table, leaving me equally confused and annoyed.

I get that she and Megan are arguing, but trying to turn me against my own best friend like that was a low blow on Abigail's part. Why bother trying to drag me into it at all? They can sort their own crap out between themselves.

But then... if Abigail is lying – which she is – why do Dylan and Megan's stories about that night not quite add up?

I roll my eyes at my own doubt and retrieve my phone from my back pocket, knowing there's only one person who can clear this up for me. I quickly type a text out to Greg.

'What happened at the party?'

His reply comes fast.

'Neil's? I didn't go. Why? Everything okay?'

My heart plummets to my toes. That was not the response I'd been expecting.

Without replying to Greg, I throw some cash down on the table and leave the pub.

They're all messing with me. They have to be.

I need to talk to Dylan.

**********