“Get me a drink, babe,” Damien orders, which instantly makes me stiffen. I throw it off by taking a deep breath and reminding myself that he’s been away, probably been waited on hand and foot, and it’ll take a few days for him to settle back at home. It will also take some time for me to adjust to him being around all the time again.

“Sure,” I answer flatly, holding out my hand for him to give me some cash. He pulls out a folded wedge of notes, peels off a fifty and hands it to me. Flashy bastard. I snatch it out of his fingertips and ask, “What do you want?”

“Sweetheart,” he says patronisingly, placing his fingertips under my chin and pushing my gaze up to his. “I can’t have been away so long that you’ve forgotten what I drink. Do I ever have anything different?”

“Well, no, but−”

“Jack and coke, not too much ice, and easy on the coke.” He looks at me with cold amusement daring me to argue. “Please.”

I smile smoothly, but it’s not a genuine smile and he knows it. I roll my eyes at him so he knows I’m not impressed with his cocky attitude toward me, never the less, I don't argue. It's not worth it, but he knows I'm not happy with him especially as he left me for weeks on end to sun himself on a ‘deal’. He thought a diamond studded Rolex was going to win me over? Wrong. It’s been a long time since I’ve been impressed by money or gifts. They mean nothing to me any longer.

I turn to go to the bar but I obviously don’t move fast enough and before I can step away, he grabs my elbow, pulling me sharply to him and catching me in his lap as I lose my balance.

“Baby. Why don’t you just tell me you’re pissed off? Yell at me, tell me what an asshole I am. Just get it out of your system. I know I left you, and I’m sorry. But you also know I had to do it. How do you think I can afford to give you the platinum cards, and the jewellery and the exotic holidays? I’m doing it for us, baby. ” He searches my eyes desperately trying to find a weak spot in my armour. “Kiss me,” he instructs, tilting his chin up. I give him a quick peck on the lips and pull back but his hand grabs the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair and holding my face just millimetres from his. “No. Not like that. Kiss me like you missed me. Kiss me like you love me. Kiss me like you want to fuck me, Megan,” he demands against my lips, pushing away my resistance.

A CRAZY buzz works through my veins.

I love it.

I hate it.

It makes me nervous, but strangely liberated too.

The conflict of emotions ramps up the anticipation of how I’m going to feel once I get safely through these doors and past the bouncers that stand almost half as tall again as me, and twice as wide. I’m well and truly in the shit if they find it. Not for the first time do I question why I am doing this. It’s a buzz that I can’t get from anything else. It’s an oblivion that I crave, to take me away from my own head and let me have some respite from reality every now and then.

The line of people waiting to enter The Cabin is long, and although we haven't been standing here for long, my anxiety makes it feel like hours. It’s our usual Saturday night out with the boys, and Kyle, Harley and Marc all queue in front of me, laughing and joking, with no idea of the conflict of emotions going through me. Kyle knows though. He doesn’t understand it, but he knows. They get patted down one by one by the gorillas on the door, it's usual practice but my heart jumps, and my nerves jolt even more when I see the bouncer hover at Kyle’s shoes and run his finger around his heel. Shit, they’re being thorough this evening.

Kyle shoots me a look over his shoulder. He’s aware that I have a couple of E tabs wrapped in a cigarette paper, nestled uncomfortably under the arch of my foot. I’m hyper aware of them now that I know they’re inspecting so closely. I curl my toes then stretch them out again as if the action will magically make them vanish.

Just breathe. Act normal.

By trying to act cool, am I drawing attention to myself? Do I look like I’m trying not to get caught?

I lift my arms, stand with my feet shoulder’s width apart, and wait.

He’s taking longer with me than he did with the others, isn’t he?

He pats down my left leg, sticking his finger down the side of my shoe before moving to the right leg and doing the same. As he touches my ankle bone it takes all my self-control to stop my leg from twitching and pulling away from him.

He stands up, nods and slaps me on the back to go through.

Panic over.

Same feeling, different weekend.

“Whose round is it?” I yell to try and make myself heard above the thumping beat of the music. I clap both my hands on Harley's shoulders as we approach the bar, “Harl?”

“Your round, my friend. After my shitty week at work, I need a good few drinks.”

We all know what it means when Harley has had a shit week. He’s a police officer, old bill. A bloody good one at that, and when I think about how hard he works and how dedicated he is, I get a stab of guilt for my intended actions this evening. In fact, I feel it every weekend that I manage to get through the doors with those pills. Harley is also my house mate, my best mate too. If he knew … But he won’t, and he doesn’t need to.

Everyone puts their order in with the cute bar girl that Kyle already has his eye on. He’s such a ladies’ man. Always chasing the skirt, and with his pretty face and honed body he usually gets what he wants. I order beers and a round of vodka chasers just for good measure. It doesn’t take long for the boys to grab up their glasses and slam them back without a second thought. I wince at the burn that trails down my throat, I should have had a couple mouthfuls of beer to ease me in but, who cares? Tonight I’m gonna get trashed and have a fucking good time.

“I need a piss,” I announce to no one specifically.

“That’s nice,” Harley replies sarcastically, “needed to know that.”

I ignore his comments and push my glass toward him. “Watch my drink.”

“Come on, man,” Kyle pleads quietly over my shoulder as I turn to walk off. “You’re not honestly thinking about dropping those pills with Harley out with us, are you? You don’t need that shit. Let’s just have a few more shooters and feel the buzz from there, yeah?”

“Quit with the lectures, mate. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself,” I retort, grabbing my crotch to prove my point. Fuck it, I’m being a cocky asshole and I know he’s right. I know I shouldn’t do it. But that makes me want to do it more. It’s the rebel in me. I can’t help it. Or maybe it’s the weakness in me. I’m not strong enough to fight the urge and I don't want to. It won’t fucking kill me, it hasn’t yet anyway.

“It doesn’t make you big or clever, Finn,” Kyle comments, shaking his head as he turns to walk away from me. He doesn’t normally voice his opinion to me. He’s the guy that just lives and lets live. The one that is a lover, not a fighter. He’s made sure I’ve gotten home safely on many occasions when Harley is on nights and I’ve had a heavy session, and he rarely makes his thoughts known. This time I see the disappointment in his eyes. I feel his disappointment and it hits me deep in the gut. So I concede.

Marc calls for more shots right about the same moment I scan the VIP area and my eyes lock on to her. After three weeks of not being around, she’s here. The girl that’s got me all kinds of flustered. Always with that guy who looks like a total wanker with his floppy hair and pretty boy face.

Who is she? Why can’t I look away?

I’ve been waiting to see her since the last time she was here. I've looked for her. I’ve wanted to feel the electricity that fires off her when she holds my gaze, and every week that she’s not been here, I’ve been disappointed. We haven’t spoken, haven’t even exchanged smiles. There’s just something there. It’s like we seek each other out and I don’t know why. It’s turned in to a habit I like more than the ecstasy I take.