I slid down the pavement, grazing both knees in one spectacular movement. 

Ashamed and trying to pretend I wasn't tearing up, I sat for a moment, letting the rain finally hit me and trickle all the way down the back of my H&M black blouse, which was beginning to look exactly like how much it cost me. I grabbed my umbrella from the gutter, holding it pointlessly above my soaking body. Shaking, I moved towards the alleyway I had meant to step down before gravity got the better of me. 

Turning down the cobbled street, a dirty luminescent street lamp guided me towards my true destination, The Slaughter. 

The rain around me seemed to crash down in sleet, moving almost completely sideways, slamming at the mural of a somewhat holy-looking white lamb painted across the front of The Slaughter. It was the latest in a long line of ironic pubs layering the city streets. This bar in particular had outlived the painfully comedic short runs of the others, including “The Bar”, an attempt to direct Gone Girl traffic to the well-known cheaters bar, and “The Quiet Woman”, stealing its name off a Bar in Buxton, both of which gained nothing but snide laughter and (probably well-deserving) feminist disgust commonly associated with this part of town. 

The Slaughter had lasted for one reason and one reason only, the beer. The musky, and most likely rarely cleaned, classic pub of an over-produced American 90s sitcom, poured from its taps, beer, which both housewives and tradies alike could feel satisfied with. It was presumed to be some kind of bizarre home-brew, and though everyone quietly questioned it, we continued to pay the place’s rent; so, it remained.

There was, however, another added bar attraction, the music. If there was something to be respected about any premise it was the ability to stick to one’s music choices whether it be heavy metal or Ariana Grande. In this case, it was the vague memories of classic rock alongside the jolted halts of Rhianna's early hits, mixed around with grumbles about the owners wife's running mix.

On the one clean barstool was Edward James, two first names, boy genius, 20-year-old-almost-accountant, sipping a tall glass when I walked in. He waved fervently with a slightly tipsy smirk ready on his soft features. After only two tall glasses alongside him, I was following suit, winking in a hopefully sultry manner at Tilly, the barman, who walked away scowling.

"You're up for the next round" Edward nodded towards his empty glass. I gulped the last of the (possibly Kraft?) Beer and made a point of slamming it on the wet soft cover lying on the wooden bench-top.

"Oh hell no, I paid for the last one you dick"

"Liar, I'm not that drunk" Edward turned and used his trademark smirk, "I tell you what, you gotta buy me another round and then I'll think about it"

I groaned into my wallet, searching for remaining change leftover from cheap dates.

"Fine, but I'm not buying anymore"

"I guess this is our last round then isn't it?" 

"I guess so" he smiled in a knowingly frustrating way, receiving a scowl for penance. 

"So... guess who is having a Halloween party?" Edward spoke after a moment’s pause for his refill to return. 

"I'm not going" 

"Come on, it will be fun this year, I promise!" 

"You promise that every damn year, and guess what, I'm still not dressing up as Count Dracula's sucking buddy" 

"But what if there are potential Counts searching for a suck?"

"Very funny, perv" I swirled the lightly foaming liquid around in my glass until it had completely mixed in. Edward stared for a moment, transfixed by his drunken thoughts of whirlpools.

"Anyway" I continued, "I know why you want me to come"

"Do you now, got it all sussed out huh?" Edward's eyes lost its glazed look and rejoined the conversation. 

"You are trying to make yourself look better by having girl friends" 

"Liar, when have I done that"

"Diane, Jenny, that girl named after the detergent?"

"Rocara" Edward replied slowly, "Ok fair, but that is not the case this year"

"Oh... has little Ed found a mate? A sucking buddy so to speak?" I leaned in, arm scraping across the splintered bar as he leaned away, almost falling off his stool.

"As a matter of fact, I have" 

"Did I miss out on any restraining orders?" Tilly chimed in, his hand simultaneously rubbing a beer glass like, as it seemed, was the job description for any good barman. 

Tilly Jones was not the owner of The Slaughter by a long-shot but seemed to be the figurehead of the entire operation. However, no one was quite sure how he got the job. He seemed to have just appeared with the bar, created from the inside, and had moved slowly into the hearts of the whole town (excluding the fact that he supplied the majority of good alcohol around here). Rosie, his ex-girlfriend, used to loudly tease that he was simply the first customer through the door, but it seemed to be closer to the truth than we'd every found. 

Edward James scowled at him. 

"That was one time" He began, putting his finger up to Tilly's mouth so he could continue, "And a complete misunderstanding" 

"So you accidentally stalked her?" Tilly continued after a moment's pause.

"You're uninvited to the party" 

"Was I ever invited?" 

"Yes, by me" I joined in, "I needed my trusty barman to keep me drunk for the entire evening. Can't live through that without a nice haze"

"God, you sound like I'm taking you into a torture hole" Edward rolled his eyes and went to stand up, "I'm sick of this place, let's get a burrito"

"Need a hand getting up?" Tilly drawled as Edward stumbled slightly backwards from the chair as if he had been struck by an unknown force. 

"I am quite fine thank you, come on Charles" He nodded at me and headed towards the door as the faint beginnings of ‘Junk of the heart’ by The Kooks began to play.

"Ugh, it's like they are playing us out" Edward swayed almost in time, "Perfection". 

His face lingered in the half-light of the doorway for a moment before suddenly falling out of sight. I moved quickly, following where I had last seen his hay-fever red nose, and left the premise in a similar fashion. I vaguely heard Tilly mumble a goodbye but was suddenly face-to-face with a chortling Ed, kneeling on the ground where he fell. 

“Nice one, Eddy”

“Don’t fucking calling me Eddy you twerp”

“I’ll call you Eddy if you fall over like a two-year-old” I held out my hand and he grabbed my forearm, pulling himself up roughly as I cringed under his weight, "and if you call me Charles"

“I fell over like a 21-year-old drunk thanks very much, Charlotte Ann” he brushed off his pants and smiled widely. I grabbed his hand and began leading him towards the main street of lights and cheap food.

“I bet your 21-year-old self is thanking you greatly right about now”

“You bet your ass he is”

We could faintly hear the screeches of cars, following a melody of horns down the street, but we turned before we reached them. We stuck to the cold concrete of a large alley lit poorly with large fluorescents gleaming down over our heads. The alley always reminded me of cobbled European streets but lacked the 17th century buildings and small statues of small boys pissing. Replacing the 17th century architecture was a brightly coloured Mexican hat standing over an Easter island head which protruded from a corner of the alley. The small Mexican joint two streets over from The Slaughter had the cheapest (whilst still legally hygienic) burritos around. 

“So how was the last...um, human, dick?” Edward began mumbling his words as he leant on the long face of the statue, beginning to calm his heart rate as he spoke. 

“You mean Richard?”

“That’s the one!”

“Uhh, I don’t know" I chewed on my cracked lip feeling a drip of blood fall into my mouth, "I would probably tell him no to another date”

“What’s the hesitation?”

As we reached the front of the line I was sorely tempted to physically shade myself from the hat, decorated as if it was Christmas with outdoor fairy lights and leftover tinsel.

“Two bean burritos thanks- because he brought me to the- no, none of that on one thanks- seafood place down the road and didn't- cheers- even try to say anything but how terrible the place was- no no, keep the 5 cents, I'll live- and how he didn't want to pay for anything” I was pointed to the side with the other freezing patrons waiting for their burrito to warm up their evening.

“He does seem a catch” Edward slowly nodded his head, “I mean, that moustache paired with the slightly Bulgarian accent- your Dracula truly has come! ”

“Fuck off, you never have the right to question my choice in dates”

“I will forever hold that right” He sloppily picked up his burrito and squirted it down his new shirt. Not that it was a very nice shirt. In fact, the only reason he had bought it in the first place was because it was two dollars, not because the faded pink and orange swirls really added to his character. Though perhaps that very fact meant that it did. I felt suddenly very full of wisdom, ignoring the fact that it was more likely too much beer and shit food settling in my stomach.

We started moving towards the main street where lights were starting to switch off and ties were loosening for the trek home. A man in a blue jacket gave up completely and pulled his off entirely, seeming to almost throw it to the ground before he had second thoughts. I had to physically pull Ed away from him as he went to ask him if he was ok.

“He’ll be less ok with a drunk man harassing him” I mumbled, trying to keep out of blue-jacketed man's line of sight.

“No no, I know that guy, BEN!” He started waving, “BEN OVER HERE”

The man looked rightfully startled before giving a short wave in return, heading over cautiously. I mouthed sorry from behind Ed as he bounded over to meet him half way.

“Hey Ben, coming from work?” He didn't stop to hear an answer, “This is Charlie! I might have mentioned her to you, Charlie this is Ben, boyfriend of my one and only sister”

“Now that’s a lie, I hear you have another stashed in your basement” I shook Ben’s hand firmly, before feeling like I probably didn't have to dominate the handshake and backing off, “I've heard many great things about you”

“Ha, that’s good to hear” He took in a deep breath in the way that everyone does when they know there’s nothing else to say.

“But I'm sure you should be off home to Emma, don’t want her worried” I smiled and he nodded slowly, both as agreement and presumably as a goodbye as he walked slowly where he was originally headed.

“He looks in great form” Ed mumbled, returning from where he had lost his train of thought in a dusty drain, water dripping slowly down the pipeline. 

"Yes, yes he did" I grabbed him slightly more forcibly than usual and pulled him down the road. 

His room was plain. It seemed to be straight out of IKEA, but with more pot plants. I felt confused. Ed had already passed out on his pale blue bed sheets alongside his cream coloured pillows and grey walls. I lay next to him momentarily and then I opened my eyes as the sun crept through the window. 

Emma gave me a tight smile as she let me through the door. I grimaced back, as it seemed appropriate. Music was blaring something unrecognizable through Ed's $30 speakers he got off his mum when his parents upgraded to a sub-woofer and speakers which were triggered to their spa pumps. I moved down the hall and into his living room/kitchen/dance floor, peering my head around the doorway in an attempt to see if Ed was around.

The host, however, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the mass of creatures and zombie cheerleaders had taken over the once rigidly cleaned apartment. Ed was sometimes torn between friends and cleanliness, desperately trying to be cool but also recycle correctly. 

"Charlie!" A squeal made me jump and turn quickly towards a small Vietnamese girl staring wide-eyed at my bloodstained jumper.

"Chloe!" I picked her up into a hug, smirking at her small giggles as her feet left the ground. 

"How are you!" Her voice becoming somewhat squeakier than usual, her trademark greeting.

"Good good, needing a drink though"

"Ugh, I thought you'd never fucking say, let's go" The switch back to her deeper, and somewhat ruder, tone was something that took a few months to get used to. 

She grabbed my hand, pulling me around a Frankenstein putting his arm around Little Red Riding Hood and two wise men, to lead me to the drinks table. Ed's array of bourbon, cruisers, and some locally brewed lager was strewn carelessly across a mahogany dining table.

Chloe ignored any requests I made, picked up the bottle of Jack Daniels and poured it into a blue plastic cup with half a raspberry cruiser, pouring herself the same.

"Cheers!" Her grin covered her face as she raised her coffee mug detailing snoopy giving me the finger.

"Yeah, cheers" The mixer splashed onto my cheek but I smiled anyway. There was always a feeling of forgotten memories whilst being with Chloe, it felt like being back in high school trying alcohol for the first time and not being sure if the alcohol was hitting you or if you were just that excited. 

"Let's dance" She retorted, bringing me out of my thoughts and over to where people were 'dancing' next to the fridge and Ed's long shopping list.