Instead of the small number of people I had anticipated, Elodie's parents' home was packed with a bunch of people I'd never seen before. Since when had Thomas gotten to know this many people? I stood in the entryway looking at the chaos in front of me, afraid to get lost in the sea of people that made up the house party.
In that moment, I saw Elodie passing, balancing a six-pack in her arms. She'd had the good sense to pair a headband with star-style antennas with her black top and jeans skirt, to stand out in the crowd.
"You came!" she exclaimed once she spotted me. Shifting the six-pack over to one arm, she held out her free arm. "Honestly, I hope you're not planning on standing there staring at everyone for the whole night. Come on, you look like you could use a drink. I made punch." She gave my outfit, a red silk dress and a cropped cardigan, a once-over. "Stunning fit, by the way."
"Thank you," I said proudly, doing a slight twirl.
"But, this," she reached for my cardigan and pulled it off, "should stay off. It's hot in here, and you shouldn't be hiding your gorgeous body underneath it." She hung it on the nearest coat hanger, which was already overflowing with jackets and sweaters.
I rolled my eyes. The cardigan hadn't been hiding much, but I decided not to argue.
A guy who looked like he could be in a rock band — his dark hair swooped over one eye and his t-shirt exposing his tattoo sleeves — squeezed past us.
"Hey," Elodie called out over the loud background music, stopping him in his tracks. "Grab this and share it with your mates or something." She thrust the six-pack at his chest, then, without registering his confused gaze, she beckoned me to the kitchen. Like an obedient sheep, I followed.
To my relief, the kitchen wasn't as crowded as the hallway, which was strange, as it looked like this was where most of the drinks were. I imagined more people were hiding upstairs. The thought of needing the loo suddenly terrified me.
Elodie grabbed a cup from the kitchen counter and turned to the fridge. Opening it, she brought out a bowl filled to the brim with dark red liquid, a few fruit slices swimming in it. She beamed as she carried the bowl over to the counter, setting it carefully down in front of me.
"This is my famous fruit punch." She opened the drawer in front of her and brought out a ladle, distributing some of the liquid into the cup in her hand and holding it out to me. "Try it. It's one of the best drinks you'll ever taste in your life."
I wrinkled my nose, unsure about her statement. But, despite my scepticism, I decided it wouldn't hurt to try. My friend perched on top of the counter. She eagerly watched me as I brought the cup to my mouth and took a sip.
"So …? What's the verdict?"
"Wow," I said, taking another sip. "This is so much better than the toothpaste-tasting mess you made the last time."
She nudged me. "Oh, come on, that was ages ago, and, in my defence, I'd already had too many drinks."
"It was only two months ago," I said, "and you were tipsy, not drunk."
"Okay, Ms. smarty pants, whatever you say." She reached for the ladle and poured another round into my cup. I gulped it down with glee, but stopped her as she went to pour me a third serving.
"I think I'd like to remember the rest of the night, thank you, Elo." We both laughed.
Elodie sighed and hopped off the counter. "As you wish. I'm going to serve these hungry drunks more finger foods. Want to join me?"
"Lead the way."
Back in the hallway, the music had switched from Indie rock to afrobeat. I did a mini dance number as I followed my friend through a group of people in front of us, offering anyone interested the finger foods on my tray.
Once we had finished our rounds of drinks and food, we went back to the kitchen.
"I thought this was a party for Thomas," I said, scouring the hallway for Elodie's older brother.
"Yeah, but he doesn't get off work until," Elodie brought her phone out of her back pocket and clicked on the side button, "about twenty more minutes or so."
"So, we're hosting a bunch of strangers for no reason, essentially." I screwed my face.
"Not necessarily. I mean, I know some of them. The rest are a mix of his friends from Rugby, yoga class —"
My brow shot up. "Yoga?"
"Yeah, that's where he met Lily. She used to be his yoga teacher."
"You learn something new every day," I said. This time, I reached for the ladle in the fruit punch and poured some of the contents into my cup.
"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist." Elodie wiggled her eyebrows at me. When our cups were topped up, she suggested we go and dance. "I doubt anyone's going to have trouble finding the snacks. They just have to be hungry enough." I chuckled in response.
Out in the hallway, the sound of people engaged in conversations — some hushed, others heated — and playing drinking games, filled the atmosphere. We passed two individuals who were busy hooking up in a dark corner of the hallway on our way to the makeshift dance floor.
No one was manning the playlist, so Elodie took the opportunity to connect the speakers to her phone. The playlist switched to hers, which no one seemed to be paying any attention to, and we began dancing to the music blaring through the speakers.
By the time our skin was glistening from minutes spent throwing our heads from side, pumping our fists, singing loudly, and swaying our hips to the music, more people joined us on the dance floor.
I became more lost in my dance routine with each track. It wasn't until I heard a familiar name called out that I froze. I brushed it off, telling myself that the odds of meeting him here, of all places, were low, but then again, there weren't a lot of people with his exact name. At least not with such a unique pronunciation. I spun around and gazed directly into a set of intense ocean-green eyes. Sure enough, Philipé stood in the entryway looking as irresistible as ever, mirroring my emotions back to me.