A little while later, I find myself sat at the bar with Damon and his cronies, a group of at least ten of us commandeer one half of it, and quite possibly most, if not all, of the bar stools in the entire establishment.
Everyone is comfortably drunk. Yes, myself included to some extent, after having downed two shots of God-knows-what, and some alcopop drink (typically teenagerish I know, but...shush)
After successfully coercing me into having what he calls a 'proper' drink, I'm most definitely feeling a wee bit tipsy.
He's laughing raucously and has casually draped his arm around my shoulder, making me feel like Sandy from the film Greece, and he's Danny and I'm hanging out with the rest of the T.Birds.
I must be the envy of every woman in the room, as he buys me another bottle of what
