Getting out of the club was far easier than getting in. People were glad to see the back of the teenager who'd intruded on their night and parted like the sea to let me pass. I took the steps two at a time in pursuit of Beth, hoping that she hadn't made it too far into the night to put herself in further danger. Freddie, while an absolute scoundrel in all other regards, wasn't the sort to cause a woman bodily injury, nor to force himself upon them. I didn't fancy risking Beth's safety in a sea of strangers on the streets of a major city.

A large group of men barged their way down the pavement, all of them talking over one another, shouting into the night in their native tongue. They pushed through other pedestrians with little care for their safety, commenting on the women and jeering at the men. One such young woman on the receiving end of their lewd suggestions was Beth, who, thankfully, didn't appear fluent enough in French to catch what they were saying. Unsteady enough on her feet in her inebriated state, it didn't take much of a nudge from one man to upset her balance.

As she staggered and fell towards the ground, I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around her from behind before she hit the ground. I was astounded at my own speed and good fortune upon saving her and was quick to bring her back into an upright position.

I released her almost as soon as I was sure that she was safe, then turned her to face me. The utter contempt she wore on her face was clear as day, and I felt a stab to the heart as I read her expression. I had always known that Beth held some distaste for me. No one could ever accuse her of being two-faced; she was brash and honest about the people she had no regard for, but I'd always hoped that she might gain some respect or affection for me.

'You're drunk,' I said.

My disgust at Freddie's behaviour must have shown on my own face, as well as my frustration with her for allowing herself to become so vulnerable. It didn't bear thinking about what she may have consented to while in such a state.

'I resent that accusation,' Beth slurred.

'Why?'

'Because it's true.'

I sighed and grasped her arm in a bid to support her weight. 'I'm taking you back. Come on, I'll get us a cab.'

Beth wrenched her arm out of my grip. 'No! I'm here with Freddie, so you can – you know – scoot.'

'Scoot?'

'Yeah. Get lost. Go on, rich boy. Why don't you ask Chantelle on a date? She could get a helicopter to drop her off here, right?'

Now, I was getting annoyed. 'You're babbling.'

'I am not! You're just not listening right.'

This wasn't going the way that I wanted it to. I mean, if I'd had my way, she'd never have left the house with Freddie in the first place. She certainly wouldn't have gotten drunk, and we wouldn't be standing out on a freezing Parisian street arguing about who should be on a date with who in a helicopter. I propped my hands on my hips and tilted my head back, muttering a string of swears to the night sky above. It was cold, I was tired, and I didn't want to continue the argument further. If she wanted to hate me for my intervention then she could do it from the comfort of a warm mansion.

My patience wore thin. I moved deftly to lift her off her feet like a Princess; one hand at her back and the other beneath the bend of her knees. Beth wriggled pathetically, like a dying fish out of the water, slapping her limp hands onto my chest and mumbling drunken, unintelligible pleas to strangers for assistance. They ignored her which, granted, was worrying in of itself. A drunk woman in the arms of a man carrying her off to who-knew-where ought to have encouraged some concern in somebody, but they were all far too interested in their own problems to take on ours.

I didn't trust Beth to stand on her own two feet until we'd attracted the attention of a cab, and even then, I kept hold of her wrist so that she wouldn't try to stagger away and back to Freddie. Even if she didn't have any interest in me, I wasn't about to let her fling herself into his arms for a night of questionable consent and a lifetime of regret. I helped her into the back seat and buckled her up while giving directions to the driver who, thankfully, didn't question whether Beth should be in the car in her state. I tacked on a promise about paying an extra sum should she vomit during the journey and implied that it would be substantially more than a cleaning fee.

Thank God the journey was uneventful. I didn't know that I would be able to look Beth in the eyes had she actually thrown up all over me and the inside of the car. She just rested her forehead against the window and stared furiously at the sky as though it was to blame for all her bad decisions that evening.

The driver dropped us at the gate which I was perfectly fine with. I didn't want to draw more attention to our return by having the cab driver throw us out at the front door. No doubt Madame Courtenay or her staff would pounce on us the moment that we returned and ask questions neither of us was in a fit state to answer. Besides, the long walk in the cold air might sober Beth enough that she would realise the favour I'd done her by the time we arrived.

We were only a few minutes into the walk when she began to complain like a five-year-old. 'I'm tired,' she whined. 'I don't want to walk. My feet hurt. My stomach feels gross. It's cold.'

'Shut up, and keep moving,' I snapped back. My head was pounding, I was equally as cold as she was, and I was sure that I'd split my knuckles on my idiot cousin's jaw.

'You're no fun. You suck.'

'Would you prefer that Freddie had taken you off somewhere for the night?' I asked tersely. I balled my hands into fists at my sides in a bid to control my temper, digging my nails into my palms to ground myself. I was angrier at him than I was at her, but it didn't mean that Beth was entirely spared my frustration.

'Yes, obviously! You ruined it, idiot!' she yelled.

'Me? I'm the idiot? Do you have any idea what he could have talked you into?!'

Beth giggled stupidly, 'Yeah.'

I wasn't going to reply.

I didn't want to rise to the provocation.

Not until she added, 'I like Freddie, do you think he'll ask me out?'

'You should ask him that,' I shot back.

'Do you have his number? I'll call him. Maybe he'll be able to come by and pick me up. I mean, it's not like it's even that late.'

'No.'

'Liar.'

'I'm not giving you his number! Bennett, don't you get that you're in serious trouble with your mother right now?' I asked. I couldn't believe that she could be so selfish, so ignorant, that she thought that getting together with Freddie was far more important than the consequences of her careless actions.

'Don't you get that I don't care?' she mimicked my voice. 'It's not like it matters. She'll forget by morning. Anyway, I wanted to spend more time with Freddie.'

'Yes, you said.'

'He's a good kisser.'

'What?' I stopped dead in my tracks.

I thought that I'd stopped their kiss but, apparently, I'd been much too late for that. Nausea churned in my stomach and I fought back the urge to call another cab so that I could return to the club and punch Freddie until his face resembled jam.

'We kissed a lot. It was good. He should have come to our school instead of you.'

'He's too old for you.'

'Why, because he's like a year older than us?' Beth asked. 'That didn't seem to bother him when he invited me back to his place.'

My fists shook with rage. 'I'm going to kill him. I will literally kill him when he gets back.'

'He could totally knock you out. You're a wimp.'

'I'm a wimp? Me?'

A wimp wouldn't have charged into that club to stop her from making a huge mistake. A wimp would have sat home and cried about it. I was starting to think that perhaps I should have just let her make her mistakes without getting involved. My life would have been far easier without her in it. I wouldn't have been freezing my arse off trying to look after this drunken idiot, for a start.

'You repeat stuff a lot,' she said. 'You should get your hearing checked.'

The anger was almost too much to bear. I began to pace back and forth, struggling between the beast inside which seemed at the absolute mercy of my heart, the instinctual creature who roared at me that Beth was worth risking everything. That I ought to make any declarations now before I lost my chance. Meanwhile, my head reminded me of every reason why this was the worst possible decision to make. It was all such a mess. Everything had gone to shit and I didn't know how to untangle my feelings, my thoughts, and my deepest desires. I wanted her, I ached for her, and I knew with every fibre of my being that it would never, ever work out the way that I wanted. And now Freddie was involved, she was drunk, she'd willingly put her heart and body at risk in my presence because she apparently thought so little of me.

Yet, she was here alone with me, and I would never get a better chance to state my intentions.

It was overwhelming and noisy and impossible. I couldn't fathom my own mind, my own heart. I didn't know what I was meant to say to a person who seemed to hold such absolute power over me. This hold was unnatural. No one person ought to be able to so entirely consume another, and yet Beth had permeated every semblance of my being. She was utterly inescapable. She had somehow become a part of me and I could no more easily lose her than I could a limb.

I stopped and stared at her, uncertain of how best to articulate all that I felt. The words evaded me and I blurted out, 'And what is that you're wearing, anyway? You don't look like yourself. Did you dress up for his sake?'

'Technically he dressed me.'

'You mean he saw you –'

'No, William. Not that it's your business,' she added. 'You're not my father. You're not even my friend. Can I go inside now? You're getting annoying.'

'I'm annoying? Do you know how difficult it was for me to find you? All Freddie told me was that it was a place his father owned. I went to four clubs before I found you!' I announced.

'Why even bother?' Beth asked. 'You could have just told my mother that you couldn't find me and left me to it.'

'You think that I should have left you out there with my cousin? That I should have just let him –'

'Yes. What does it matter to you what I do?'

'I can't do this anymore,' I said, pushing my fingers through my hair in frustration. 'I can't stay quiet.'

'You've never been quiet about anything. Ever. Since I met you, you've always been vocal about everything that you think is wrong with me.'

I'd seen romance movies. I knew that the big climax was always some grand gesture with a building crescendo of some sappy song before the inevitable declaration. It was almost always in someplace that held significance to the two leads and articulated in just such a way that the person receiving the confession couldn't possibly refute it.

This was not a romance movie.

There was no sappy love song.

There was only a drunk girl in a pretty dress, a blisteringly cold wind, and me. I, the idiot who had never in his life uttered these fateful words, whose head and heart was locked in a battle to the death over these confusing and unwanted emotions.

There was only this intangible and insufferable mess and three awful, wonderful, never-ought-to-have-been-spoken words.

'I love you.'