My mother always said that when you get stuck in a bad situation, the only way to deal with it is with grace and patience.

Well, that was very sound advice on Mum's part, but since I possess neither of those virtues I'm going with alcohol. Since I'm the birthday girl I get free drinks anyway, whoopee. I find that compulsively sipping at a nice glass of red like I'm a drunk prevents me from having to talk while offering a nice main line between that blessed drug and my bloodstream. Booze is beautiful.

I didn't even want to come to this bloody party when I thought it wasn't mine. Lily emotionally blackmailed me into it; at the time I wondered why she was going to such lengths, but on arriving and seeing my name plastered all over the walls on posters her motive became clear as bloody day. I hate this. What's more, I hate that I feel so guilty and ungrateful for hating this. On the one hand I feel like I have a right to be angry because Lily's been pretty insensitive (I mean, hello, doesn't she know me at all by now?), on the other I then feel like I'm a bad person and a bad friend for being pissed at her when she's so clearly gone to a lot of effort and spent a lot of money. Damn you, Lily. Bloody party. Bloody friends. GAH.

Normally if I'm ambivalent about going out getting all pretty makes me more inclined, but this time it hasn't. Lily twittered around me throwing outfits around and suggesting shoes and doing my make up for me because I had zero inclination to do it myself. Objectively, I know I look pretty. She's put me into a nice Grecian type mini dress and some nice heels, showing off my tan and she's given me funky gold eye shadow which brings out my eyes. The problem is that I don't feel pretty, or confident, or any of those things that normally make you feel pumped to do this sort of thing. You'd think that the big surprise and the massively elaborate party and all the people I barely know giving me presents would cheer me up, but no. I even got a lovely card from Nina and the gang saying they couldn't get the flights straight to come out but presents were arriving for me soon and a big 'te amamos.' That actually made me feel shittier, because if they were here I could have clung to them.

What makes it worse is that I feel like a cretin for even thinking this stuff. I should be having a good time, I should be grateful, I should be the belle of the ball and I'm fucking not. Feeling bad because I feel like I shouldn't feel that way just intensifies the feeling that way. Did I say GAH yet? I need a refill.

"Hey baby!" Lily sidles up to me and throws an arm around me, kissing my cheek. She's drunk too, but she's the happy kind of drunk. "Are you having a fantabulous time?"

"The fantabulest!" She's too hammered to notice my sarcasm.

"Good." She plants a kiss on my cheek. "Only the best for my Addy. Did you find all your mates yet?"

Which mates, I wonder? I see work colleagues and a whole bunch of people I barely know, nobody that I'd really call 'friend.' "Who?"

"Umm… that girl, dark hair, can't remember her name…" That really does not narrow it down. "Hangs with Justin…"

"Rachael?"

"Yeah. Her. And Justin. The short bloke said he couldn't make it but says have a drink for him."

I assume she means Trace. I haven't seen Justin or Rachael, but Rachael would be a welcome sight right about now since I vaguely actually know her. Justin I'm still too annoyed with. Nobody else has pointed out that my long lost identical twin is in his video, but it's the principle of the thing.

"No, haven't seen them."

"Oh. Maybe they're up in VIP escaping the crowd."

"VIP?" I sounded audibly perkier saying that, but it's not 'VIP' so much as 'escaping the crowd' that appeals. If there is a VIP I doubt Justin's up there, he doesn't seem to care much for that stuff unless it's to escape media and there aren't any here. But then that would suit me because I'm looking to hide from him as well as the crowds. Stupid git.

"Oh did I not tell you we have a VIP? Well, we have a VIP." Lily sounds incredibly smug. As well she might, if she's kept the guest list low enough then it's the best idea she's had in regards to this party.

"Where?"

"Up those stairs." She points to a section where a tall and burly bouncer is looking stern and guarding a rope. "There's only about ten people on the list, including you and me, so if you need a quiet minute just head on up."

"I just might." Impulsively, I return her kiss on the cheek. It may be insincere, but she deserves to hear one anyway. "Thank you, Lil. You outdid yourself."

"Anything for you." She gives me a squeeze and then pulls away, fluttering off into the night with a 'I'll be right back.'

***

VIP rules. VIP is the best place ever.

In VIP, there are no decorations. There are no crowds. There are no freaky clowns scaring the shit out of me and then offering me balloon animals. There is only a room with some sofas, speakers turned down low enough that you can actually hear yourself think and a call button when I need more alcohol. VIP is excellent. VIP is stupendous. I may just stay in VIP for the rest of the night.

What I am doing in here can only be described as wallowing. I don't generally hold with wallowing, it only seems good for making you feel crappier and bringing on extreme apathy, but tonight I need a good wallow. I was in a foul enough mood before Lily dumped this on me and now it's all mushing up together in my brain with the wine and it's not good. Life is not good right now and I don't see why not. Why shouldn't it be? I'm young, not totally stupid or unattractive, I am in the land of opportunity with a decently paid job that a lot of people would kill for (not because it's all that fun, but because working for fashion house execs opens doors if you're into that sort of thing). Why should any of this suck?

The Justin thing doesn't help, but that's just him being a stupid boy as usual. Boys are all stupid and rocks should be thrown at them. They have no brains under those thick skulls so it probably wouldn't hurt them much anyway. The main source of my present worry is Alex. Alex who thought the greatest birthday present ever would be a promotion to his full time exclusive PA but has failed to notice that I don't actually like the job I'm in now, and his would be pretty much the same only with more hassle. That's not his fault, he's a busy guy and he's only trying to offer me an opportunity - paying me a big compliment while he's at it - but it's just one more tie into a situation I'm still not sure I want to be in and it's stupid that I should even have to think twice about such a pay rise but GAH. I have no idea whether to take it or not.

At the sound of the door opening I look up, indignant, wondering who has the nerve to intrude on my sanctuary. When I see it's Justin, I scowl.

"Hey, this is where you've been. Wondered where you'd got to." Oblivious, he immediately walks over and drops himself down next to me, giving me a quick squeeze and a 'happy birthday.' "Can't say I blame you, it's crazy down there. I nearly got trampled when this girl suddenly decided to notice I was Justin Timberlake, so I'm hiding."

"Heh. I was just hiding from my birthday party." I really ought to get pissed off and yell at him to get out, but like I said wallowing encourages apathy. I can stew quietly.

"Yeah." He gives this funny sideways smile. "I'm not surprised. The second I got here I figured this was a little, uhh…"

"Way too ostentatious?"

"You're more of a, uhh, low key kinda gal." A low chuckle escapes him, and he raises his eyebrows in a funny manner which betrays exactly how bad an idea he thought this was. Well, at least somebody had a clue. Shame it wasn't the organiser. "You really having that bad a time?"

"If somebody would kill me now I wouldn't mind so much."

"Ahh." He presses a quick kiss on my temple. "We'll be fine. We'll just hang out here where the drink's on tap until everybody fucks off."

"Where's Rach?" I ask.

"Downstairs, I guess."

"I detect a tone."

"There… may or may not be a tone."

"Why?"

"Minor tiff." He shrugs. "We'll be fine."

"Speaking of being fine, we're not by the way."

"Huh?" He looks confused. "Why?"

"Oh, I don't know, because I didn't realise I was the star of your music video. Bastard."

Once again his expression disloyally gives him away. There was a visible flinch and he looks guilty as sin. "I swear I didn't mean to."

"What, are you blind?"

"Apparently!" His voice gets a little shrill. "I didn't realise at all, fucking Trace had to point it out to me. After we'd shot the video and I couldn't do shit about it. Now I have no clue how the shit I managed to miss it but I didn't mean to, I swear. I guess it was subconscious because I knew the song's about you or something."

"Well for the record, I'm not happy."

"I'm really sorry. Are you open to bribery? I got you a really cool present."

"That's for my birthday, it can't do double duty."

"I can get you another one. I'm not an investment banker you know, I got cash."

Alright, I'm an easy mark but that one nearly made me laugh. Probably would have, if as previously mentioned I wasn't already in such a stinking mood. "Okay. But only because I'm expending too much energy being cross with Lily so I'm having to let you slide."

"I'll take that! Did I mention you look really pretty?" Justin says with a cheery grin. I'm glad somebody's so easily pleased. In truth I'm letting him off the hook way too easily, as I have with most of his more stupid behaviour (like major lie telling and identity fraud), but he's very difficult to be angry at. He looks like a kicked puppy when somebody's pissed at him, and having somebody who immediately understood why I hate this party makes me feel marginally less like a terrible person for thinking Lily should have got it.

"Am I awful for hating this party?" I blurt out all of a sudden.

"Why would you be?" He looks quizzically at me while taking a gulp of his beer - Corona, apparently, though I see no lime anywhere.

"Because she spent all this money and obviously this took a lot of effort and I hate every bloody second."

"Umm…" Justin scratches at the back of his head, and for one horrible moment I think he's trying to find a nice way of confirming that yes, I'm a bitch. "Look, I don't know Lily that well so I don't wanna judge…"

Oh, Lily. He wants to judge Lily. That's okay. Well, it's not, but she's not here to hear it and at least it's not me he wants to criticise. "But?"

"But I've only known you a relatively short time and I could've immediately told anybody who felt like listening that this was a bad idea. You don't like crowds, you don't like being the centre of attention and you don't like splashy. Lily's supposed to be the best pal who's known you all your life… I mean, I know Trace would never organise a party for me that I was so obviously going to hate, so I'm not sure why Lily did all this. But I don't see how that makes you a bad person because she made a bad call. Sometimes you swing and you miss, not your fault."

He gives a shrug, and while that was exactly what I wanted to hear it oddly doesn't do much to make me feel better. Am I never happy?

"But shouldn't I be filled with overwhelming love and gratitude because it's the thought that counts?"

"Well… that's what I mean. It doesn't seem like she did think about this too well or she'd have known it was a bad plan. I mean, don't get me wrong, you can't fault her intentions, but it seems pretty fuckin' stupid. I'm sorry, I know she's your friend, but…"

"What would you have done?"

I have no idea why I asked that question, it's rather beside the point. I'm even more surprised that Justin takes it remotely seriously. In his place, I'd have laughed and asked what that had to do with it. "I don't know. Maybe a few of us at a restaurant or something."

He's absolutely right, and suddenly I realise how boring that makes me. Small little dinner parties are what my parents do. I know I'm creeping towards thirty but I'm not there yet. "So how come you get that and my BFF doesn't?"

"I'm guessing she just wanted to do something major for you and got a little too excited. Don't worry. You're not a bad person for not liking it. It's not like you've bitched her out or anything is it?"

"No. I said thank you."

That does make him giggle, if men ever giggle. Maybe they merely chuckle. Is giggling a girl thing? "Wow. Saying thank you. Yeah, you're a real bitch Addy."

I smack him in the arm, somewhat harder than I intended to. "It's not funny, arse."

"You hate it, yet as usual you've shut up, not said anything and pretended to like it for her sake. That does not make you a bad person Addison so quit with the self flagellation."

"What did I tell you about calling me Addison?"

"Way to deflect 'cause you know I'm right."

"Yeah. I hate that. Bastard."

This time he tips his head back and gives a very loud laugh. The annoying thing about him is that when he laughs it's a proper belly laugh, and his smile gets so wide it's infectious and bad mood killing. Well I like my bad mood right now and want it to stay, so he needs to stop that.

"Jesus Christ, what's with the filthy mouth all of a sudden? I thought I was the one who cussed in this relationship."

"Oh I always swear when I'm drunk." I tell him in false gaiety.

One blue eyeball trails me up and down suspiciously. "How much have you drunk then?"

"One or two or eleven. Who's counting?"

"Huh. You're surprisingly coherent."

"I'm British. We can drink."

"So I see."

For about five minutes, we sit there in companionable silence. It might seem weird, to sit silently in a room by yourselves hiding from the rest of the world (or the party, as it may be), but it's not as uncomfortable as you might think. Justin's arm is slung lazily over the sofa behind me. I've flopped side ways and am using him as a convenient cushion. We're just sipping at our drinks, starting into space. He pokes at my knee, and I prod his back, but communication beyond that isn't really necessary. I like that. Justin is a very low maintenance kind of friend, and with everything in my life lately seeming to take far too much energy I appreciate that. You'd think being Mr Pop Star he'd be more hassle, but the only real problems I find with him come more from the external aspects of his fame - photographers, busy schedules.

"You ever feel like… I don't know, packing it all in and running away somewhere?"

Justin snorts, loudly. It's not the most attractive sound ever. "Look who you're talking to, woman. How'd we meet in the first place?"

"Oh yeah. So you did." I pause a moment. "What's that like?"

"I don't know how it works when you don't run off to Adora to meet cool chicks named Addy, but it did the business for me." He gives me a sly nudge with his shoulder and I give him a mildly embarrassed one back. "Why, thinking about it?"

"Ahh." I take another large mouthful of drink, swallowing hard before answering. "Alex offered me a promotion which means more money but less control over my hours. Plus it's way more commitment to staying here long term. I have no idea what to do. Thinking hiding until it goes away might work."

"Oh." Justin gently removes the glass from my hand and sets it on the table in front of us, perhaps sensing (and probably rightly) that I may have had too much and entered the 'maudlin' stage of drunkenness. "See, that was the part that didn't work so well. In fact, I seem to remember it was you who kept telling me I had to go home and work it out sometime and forced me to book my ticket."

"Well that was different."

"Why?"

"Because it's me and I'm special."

He licks his lips and give me a gentle chuckle. "I also seem to remember using that excuse and being told, by you, that it was… bullocks?"

"Bullocks are a type of cow. You mean bollocks."

"Yeah, that."

"Must you rain on my pity parade with all your sense? Or to be more accurate, rain on it with all my sense?"

"Oh. Was I supposed to be the friend who indulges and enables the pity?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"Meh. I know, I know… stupid to be all 'woe is me' like it's gonna change anything, I just don't know what I want any more."

"Do you have to know right this second?" I assume he's taking my silence as an affirmative, though the truth is that I have no idea - which is becoming a regular occurrence, these days. "Then stop worrying, try to relax, have a good time."

"Did we go over the part where I hate my party? A good time may be asking a little much."

"We're not at your party. We are in our own little bubble where you don't have to hate the crowd, I don't have to get trampled by girls who think they got a shot and none of those freaky ass clowns are allowed."

"I thought it was just me, you think they're creepy too?"

"Fuck yes."

I snuggle closer to him as his hand drops down to my shoulder. It's stupid that him agreeing with me on something dumb like creepy clowns would cheer me up, but I feel so at odds with everything and everyone right now that even some small measure of harmony with others is heartening. So I'm going to stick myself to him in this dark corner, forget that technically I'm still annoyed with him and his phenomenally stupid taste in video co-stars, and try to chill out.

With a sigh, he drops his head on top of mine and gives me a squeeze. "Am I really old and boring for this?"

"It's not exactly sex and drugs and rock 'n roll but eh, who gives a rat's arse."

"I swear, I'm starting to feel like the old man of the pop industry. And I'm twenty fucking eight."

"Well if you're going to work in an industry of pre-pubescents pretending to be older than they are then yeah, you do kind of look old."

"Hey, I was all comforting to you; you're supposed to reassure me here."

"Oh come off it. You're rich and famous and successful and about half the women downstairs would drop their knickers in a second if you asked. You need no pity."

"And the other half?"

"Would at least pretend to have self respect for as much as five whole minutes before giving in."

"You saying only women with no self respect sleep with me?" He's trying to sound annoyed but you can almost hear the smirk on his face. "Because you slept with me a whole lot, ya know."

"But I resisted for ages, thank you very much."

"True. Though it's not like I was trying."

"Yeah yeah, big shot. You tell yourself that."

"Oh please." He pokes me in the ribs. "You seduced me plenty enough times, missy, don't even pretend you weren't hot for me. You attacked me on the roof ya know. Which, speaking of, I'm very hurt that you defiled our sacred place by…" He pauses for dramatic effect. "Shagging another up there."

He just put on a really stupid posh boy English accent and I have to burst out into hysterical drunk laughter. It was terrible. "Sorry if I hurt your feelings, bub, didn't realise the al fresco bonk was so precious to you. Steve and I will write you apology cards."

"Nah. Just call us even for the whole video thing and you're cool."

Ooh, I see what he did there, that sneaky arse. Oh, alright, I'll play. "Done."

"So you're not allowed to bring it up ever again?"

"Only if you aren't ever allowed to put on that voice again."

"Done."

"There." I snuggle happily in under his arm. "Isn't this all lovely and civil? Hurray for the barter system."

"Hurray for the… you're fuckin' weird, woman."

"Take me as I am."

"Already did. A lot, as previously mentioned."

"Oh, I see. I swear when I'm drunk and you get horny. Are you just not getting any?"

"No, actually." The look on his face is so mournful that I really want to display yet more amusement, but that seems overly harsh. Don't want to give him a complex; men are so oversensitive about anything involving their penises. "I ain't got laid in weeks."

"Oh boo hoo, a few weeks."

"Yeah but before that it was like a year."

It takes my alcohol fuzzled brain a moment to work out why that sounds so significant. Then I realise it means he must have been celibate for a while after me. I hope not because I put him off women or anything, that would be really ego bruising. Almost as bad as hearing you'd turned a man gay.

"Really? Why?"

"Why? What do you mean why?!"

"I thought the word 'why' was self explanatory."

"But it's… weird, asking!"

"Way to avoid the question."

"Fine." Wow, he looks really annoyed with me for asking the question. His eyes are all narrowed and his lips are pinched like I broke his favourite toy. "I was being all good and introspective and working through my shit alone before trying to be in a relationship. Happy?"

I prod him with a shaky finger in the chest. Man, how much did I drink if I can't drive my index finger in a straight line? "That's it? You got all defensive over that? You stupid sod, that's a good reason to be celibate. Not like you were some saddo who couldn't get any."

"You know, you're charming when you're wasted. Just charming."

"You love me anyway."

"No idea why."

"Because I'm pretty."

Hah, I can see it, his lips are twitching and he wants to break a smile. He so does, I can see it. "I suppose so."

"You suppose?"

"Oh you're fuckin' gorgeous and you know it, quit with the fake modesty doll."

"Aww." I plant a big smacking kiss on his lips. "Aren't you sweet?"

"Aren't you full of it?"

"Is this because I didn't tell you you're pretty?"

"Okay, you just got downgraded from pretty to irritating."

"Will it make you feel better if I give you a pity shag to end the drought?"

Justin moves as if he's going to get up. "Okay, that's it, I'm calling the bouncer to toss out the alcoholic in VIP."

"Like you didn't drink just as much anyway. Come on, you know you want to…"

I'm jokingly trying to smooch him and he's jokingly batting me away and we're pretty much wrestling on the couch. Given how pissed off I was when I got in here it's now kind of ridiculous that I'm giggling and squealing and playing around like I'm a five year old on a jungle gym - though in a much dirtier and more adult way - but so sue me. I'm a woman; it's our prerogative to be easily changeable and impossible to follow even with a map. My giggles are getting ever more high-pitched, his guffawing is getting louder and louder, and then there's a great big thump as we both fall off the couch.

"Oww." Justin rubs the back of his head while still laughing.

"Ah ha!" I spot my opportunity and clamp my lips down on his, victory sealed. He's still trying to push me off, we're both shaking with laughter and it's entirely possible that at any minute said laughter is going to erupt out and make one of us accidentally bite the other or something, but I'm still clinging onto him like a barnacle because this means I won. Possibly he's just being nice to the girl and not using his full strength to shove me off, but I still take this as a big fat win for me.

"Okay," he manages to cough out once he pushes me away, "this looks remarkably dubious right now."

"Why?"

"We're on the floor on top of each other, your skirt is nearly up over your ass and my face is probably covered in your lipstick."

"My skirt is…" I turn around to start fixing it but then roll off of him instead in a fit of hysteria. I don't think he understands how absolutely hilarious this is. "Good job nobody else is in here then. Just think, we could've been actually shagging all this time and who would've known?"

"What, you mean I wasted all that time trying to cheer you up when I could have been getting laid? Well come 'ere…"

Screaming with laughter now, I'm pretty much killing my stomach muscles with over-exertion as he grabs me and starts rolling us across the floor, pretending to bite my neck like a vampire as I still keep giggling helplessly. I think we just knocked the wine off the table and this time my skirt definitely was up over my bum for a second there.

How we wound up in a cab going back to the apartment, I have no idea. I just remember us both cackling with laughter the whole way. Hah, I knew it wasn't just me who was a drunk.