Goths in Denim (I only dress like a Goth!) (4/5) By Jason Ince

(1/5), (2/5), (3/5), (4/5), (5/5).

She smiles and I see the tension lift. A barman returns from taking out the trash, and the drinks are flowing faster.I bring her the drink and sit down beside her; she smiles at me before nervously sipping her drink. 'First time?' I ask her, and she looks at me in the same shocked expression. 'How'd you guess?' 'I'm here every week, I've a knack for recognising new blood.'

She smiles and I notice her shift a little closer, I feel the chill of the outside and ask if she wants to talk some more outside. She agrees and we quickly push our way through the people.

Outside in Spiders is usually a mixture of the overly drunk who are cooling off, those that wish to cool down from their excessive dancing, and the people who wish to talk. I don't know why, but once I laid eyes upon this girl she intrigued me and I wish to know more about her. So we find a seat and talk for the next hour or so.

Her name is Elizabeth, but she lets me call her Beth, she's an art student, well photography and also does Biology and Physics, so she can understand light and form better. She writes her number on a piece of paper and we separate to find our friends.

I check the time and it's half-past-twelve already and the effects of the alcohol have hardly taken their effects, I think. I dash to the bar and order a few strong drinks and down the smallest, carrying the largest with me to find my friends. After Adrian drags me onto the dance floor, the rest of the night is kind of a blur until we are waiting for the taxi outside with a group of girls, the beautiful Lauren among them. She slinks over to me and whispers something in my ear, which goes out the other ear. She repeats it a bit louder: 'Adrian tells me you live near me, want to share a taxi with me and Zoë?'

'Sure, why not?' I say in a daze. She snatches my hand and pulls me to the car. I don't remember what happens next, although at some point I give my address. I regain myself in my room, a few pound coins the lighter and lying on my bed without my boots or jeans or coat. Must work out how I get undressed when I'm drunk.

The morning after any night out is bad, especially when you forget to drink a glass of water to dampen the hangover. The sunlight is unbearable as it peeks between the curtains and onto my face waking me up at...for crying out loud it's only eight. I won't get back to sleep now and the smell of fried food in the air is even more of an incentive to get up.

Despite how hung over I get, I can always eat in the morning. I head downstairs into the kitchen, my mother jokingly shaking her head at me, my sister drinking from the carton of orange juice. I wish she wouldn't do that.

Continued... Next Page (5/5)

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