I rush to the bar and order a whiskey. I hate whiskey. Never drink it but my gut craves it. The bartender pours me a single. I ask for a double and down it in one go. 

"Whoa... You're full steam ahead there." Jonas approaches me with a smile. "Are you planning spending your night with your head overboard spilling your guts?" He leans at the counter. 

"I just needed something strong. I'll ease up now. Don't worry. No intention in getting completely drunk at this party."

He reaches for a bottle of whiskey and pours himself a drink. 

I look down at the glass. "Hit me."

"But, lets savour this one, yeah?" 

I chuckle in response and give him a small nod. 

Jonas pours the drink on my glass and clinks his glass softly on mine. "Prost." 

I pick up my glass and take a small sip. "Prost." 

"Are you going to tell me what happened for you to have such a thirst for strong liquor all of the sudden?" He asks with a smirk. 

I glare at the brown liquor. 

"I mean I can venture a guess..."

I stare at Jonas that looks behind me. I follow his gaze and land on Daniel and George exchanging words... again. What the hell are they talking about now? I look back at my drink. I know what they are talking about. My entrance last night was overly dramatic and George is responding that what he saw. Me in tears. 

Then I remember the kiss. He kissed my neck. Why on earth would he kiss my neck? How can I possibly move on from him if he continues to do this? 

"Earth to Natalie..."

I look up at Jonas. 

"Do you want me to check on those two and see what is happening?"

I nod in response without being able to utter one single word. 

Jonas drinks the rest of his whiskey. "Don't drown yourself in hard liquor." He teases and leaves me at the bar. 

I turn and see Jonas walking towards Daniel and George. He places himself between the two men and pats them in the shoulder amicably. I look back at my drink. I can still feel his lingering kiss on my neck. 

"Are you mad with me?" Marie's voice breaks my trance. 

"No." I say and take another sip of my drink.

"Are you sure?" She asks softly. "I don't want you to be angry with me..."

I huff. I'm not angry but I am slightly irritated. I look up to Marie. 

"I'm annoyed with you. You knew he was there." 

Marie nods. 

"And, you pushed me inside because you knew he was there..."

Marie nods again. 

"Marie... why?" I say defeated and look again at my almost empty glass before refilling it with the brown liquid.  

"Because I see two miserable people without each other..." she finally responds. 

I look at her stunned. "How can you possibly say this? We've been over a long time ago. If it wasn't for the wedding we would not even speak to one another! We've moved on..." 

What I actually mean is that he has moved on. I'm as still as rock. 

"I'm sorry... I just thought..." Marie lowers her eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry."

I sigh and nod. I don't want to ruin Emily's night and I know Marie's interventions have the best of intentions. Although, someone needs to tell her that even hell is full of the best intentions in the world. 

"It's fine. Let's just move on..." I keep repeating these two little words and yet I fell unable to do it. 

Someone snatches the glass from my hand abruptly. "Hey!" I look at the devil that has taken away my liquid courage.

"What?" George responds and down it. He makes a face when the whiskey hits his throat. "Since when are you a eighty five year old man?"

I roll my eyes. "Not only eighty five year old men drink whiskey."

"Okay, then since when are you drinking pompous farts drinks?" 

I snicker at his question. Good old George diffusing my incoherent thoughts with his candour. 

He glances at Marie. "And, who is the prison warden?"

Marie scoffs in response. "Idioten." And looks away. 

He chuckles. "I understood that." There's a glint of mischief in his eyes that I've seen before. 

"George, this Marie. A very good friend." I introduce him with a hint of warning in my voice timbre. Although knowing Marie he might be in deep troubled waters if he's not careful. 

"Ich würde sagen, es ist ein Vergnügen, aber nicht wirklich." (I would say it is a pleasure but not really.)

"Marie..." I respond. "Bitte." (Please)

"So, what do you do, apart from locking people together in confined spaces? Is that a hobby or your full-time employment?"

Marie glares at him annoyed.

"Can we move on from that please?" I ask. "I had quite enough of drama for one night."

"What drama? You getting locked with dream boy over there? Or what happened inside? Which one is the drama?" He smirks.

"Ich denke, ich komme später zu Ihnen zurück." (I think I'll catch up with you later)

George laughs. I know he doesn't understand a word of German. Why is he laughing about?

"Oh you are fun..." He lowers himself to look Marie in her eyes. 

Marie looks stunned at his words but quickly regains her composure. "I will see you later."

"Marie..." I plead. "Please stay."

"Later. When you are alone." Marie picks up her glass and pointedly walks away. 

George laughs again. I smack him in the arm. 

He touches his arm. "Why you keep hitting me?"

"Can't you be nice to my friend?" 

"I'm being nice! This is me being at my best!"

I huff frustrated. "I'm regretting inviting you to this thing."

George leans at the counter and retrieves a bottle of vodka. Our go to drink in times of trouble or when George feels the need to be drunk.

"You don't mean that." He says while pouring himself a glass. "What were you doing locked away with dream boy over there especially after last night cry fest?" He proceeds to pour the liquid on my glass. The leftover brown liquid merges seamlessly with the vodka. In any other situation I would probably be annoyed and ask for a new glass but right now I just want to drink my issues away. "Were you making out? It looked like you were making out... so just wondering why you were in there with the guy you can't forget...unless crying is the plan for tonight too." 

George doesn't mince his words. He never has and I firmly believe he never will. From the moment we've met, I've been a car crash when it comes to relationships. 

When I moved in the house that we share, George was the first one to call me out of my dating life and the fact it was non existent. To shut him up, I went on a few dates. And then conveniently discovered something wrong with every single one of them. He called me out on that too. 

He's been an active spectator on this soap opera that I'm wrapped in with Daniel. Although the drama is all me. Daniel is just an unwilling and oblivious co-star to this drama. 

"Marie did that. Not me." I answer only the first question. Really don't want to get into the whole dress, lingering kiss on my neck disclosure right now. 

"What happened inside?"

"Nothing." My stomach roars. 

"Bullshit." He quickly responds. "Have I ever told you how much I love your little tell?" He smirks and downs his shot.  

I grunt at him frustrated. 

"So?"

"So what?" I say irritated. 

"What happened?" He repeats the question taunting me. 

I look at George annoyed. Why does he get all the questions and answers? 

"What were you talking with Daniel just now?"

George smirks and leans at the counter. "You would like to know that, wouldn't you?" 

"That's why I'm asking!" I raise my voice. The alcohol is kicking faster than I expected. 

"Whoa. Calm down there, Kleiner." He uses the nickname to annoy me. "First answer my question."

"And, if I do will you answer mine?" I retort.

George shrugs and looks at Marie that is dancing with Emily. "She's a little firecracker that one."

I look at him with my mouth wide open. "Are you serious right now? You're going to hit on my friend? Or are you that desperate to redirect my attention and not answer my question?"

He laughs wholeheartedly. "First, I actually liked her. So I do want to give it a go at the warden over there if that is okay with you." He stares at me for a moment. "So, can I? I swear I'll be nice!"

I put my hands on my mouth to stifle a laughter. Is he really asking me for permission?

"Okay, if you are going to be rude about it then we'll leave it at that!"

I give him a hug. "I'm sorry! Yes, you have my permission!" 

George returns the embrace. "You know you are a silly silly person?" He mutters and gives me a small tug at my back protectively. "You need to have the talk. Enough stalling and crying a river all the time you have an interaction with dream boy. Talk to him."

"I don't think I can face the music... It's like I know it's over, it's been over for so long and I'm still standing here like an idiot!"

"Just talk to him!"

"What did you talk to him about?" I reiterate my question. 

George sighs. "This is the problem. You want to know but you're too damn chicken to ask yourself. You want to know what we talked about. Ask him!"