One.

"It's gonna be siiick, aaah!" Charlie squeals for the umpteenth time, letting a brief excited squeak, while I drive my smashed blue car in the parking. She's an amazing girl and all, and she's my best friend but, damn, she can be very obnoxious when she's thrilled for something. And she's the kind of girl that gets ecstatic for literally everything.

"You'll see, best party EVER!" she goes on ,giggling on the seat next to mine, and I bite my tongue to prevent me from saying something mean, 'cause I don't wanna have an argument right now. It will be pointless. But my nearly endless patience is going to end sooner than she thinks: it's about two hours straight that she mumbles something about this party non-stop. She just keep saying that we would have so much fun while we were showering, dressing, driving and even searching for somewhere to park this wreck.

"Have I told you yet..."

Oh Gosh. Everything has a limit.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, CHARLIE!" Brianne shouts from the seats behind, pointing me an empty spot next to a BMW. "There. Check it."

Thank's God there's Brianne. Sometimes I think that if were just me and Charlie we would be fighting all time.

Me, Charlie and Bree are kinda, you know, the Trio. Something like the Three Musketeers. Or the Totally Spies. Or the Charlie's Angels, maybe.

We're not that different, though. There aren't the smart one, the rebel one or the sporty one between us. Truth be told we're too similar sometimes. Mostly me and Brianne, probably 'cause we've known each other for a lifetime, and we got through everything together since I can remember, from our first day of school to our first period ever, to the exam for the driving license, to the Uni.

She's part of my family. Much more than my brother Dean.

It's been just the two of us for quite a while, since we had met Charlie in our swimming course when we were about twelve. It's been love at first sight. Like we'd been reunited with our third twin whom we'd been separated ad birth.

That weekend we made a 'bloody deal': we cut our index fingertips and we brushed them together, swearing sisterhood and loyalty for life. That summer we wrote up the 'True Best Friends Forever Codex', where we reported strict rules to follow so we could be able to make our friendship last forever. We took that genuinely seriously, in that times.

I still do it, to be true.

When I finally stop my car, removing the keys from the lock, I allow myself to get a quick glare in the rear-view mirror. Two black symmetrical lines stands perfectly on my eyelids, and my eyelashes are curled with my favourite waterproof mascara. I grab my cherry red lipstick from my purse and I put it on one last time, brushing my lips together with a smack.

"I'm ready!" I say, clicking my door open, stepping out of my car. The music is so loud that I can hear it perfectly from here, and I can't fight the smile that's forming on my lips, letting Charlie's tan arm surround me.

We're not exactly 'party animals'. We don't go to half of the parties we're invited, and usually we're so busy at Uni, with essays and other stuff, that we stay at home four or five nights a week. When I was in high school I never thought Uni would ever be so hectic and exhausting.

Yesterday Bree gave her last exam for the first year, and as me and Charlie had given it few days ago, that means we're finally free and that's the kind of freedom I've been craving.

So we will party all night like there's no tomorrow. Or, at least, that's the plan.

Our high-heels click as one on the path, while we give each other hopeful glances, intertwining our fingers like little girls. We finally reach the glowing neon sign of the club, and we all stop there for a second, as expected. Charlie straighten up her white loose blouse, Bree tuck her hair behind her ears whilst I smack my lips once again.

And we step inside the 'Old Charleston'.

We found this club on our first day as freshers, and that's definitely my favourite place ever. Bree act as if she hates it, but every time I suggest to drop by she doesn't even bother pretending to complain, she immediately turns on her curling tongs instead. She overuses it.

I can't really say what I like of this place, maybe it's the fact that's a little bit out of the way. The clubs in the centre are always smelly and overcrowded, if you can't go to the Funky Buddha, that, for the records, is far too expensive for the three of us.

The 'Old Charleston', also renamed 'Old Charlie' by one of my best friends, it's more quiet, cause usually only university students hang out here, and that makes it...safer?

Tonight there are much more people than other nights, and that's no surprise: the weather is perfect, the sky is full of stars and the view on the massive back porch will be breathtaking.

We walk in single file, holding each other's hands, avoiding half-naked girls and already drunk guys, as we try to reach the bartender.

"Hey Fran!" somebody behind me says, grabbing my wrist. "When was the last time I've seen you here?"

Brianne and Charlie suddenly stop with me, like domino pieces, turning around to face the handsome dark-haired guy I'm widely smiling to. He returns my smile as I greet him with a small kiss on his right cheek.

Blurred memories of a party, couple months ago, quickly speed in my mind, and I start feeling slightly uncomfortable while Aaron pulls me closer to him with his hands loosely placed around my waist. Just like that night.

Time after time, beat after beat, I begin to remember, and drop after drop memories flood back. All at once the bright smile disappear from my face, replaced by a frown, and a sour taste in my mouth. I feel bile rising on the back of my throat and I need all my strength of will to not throw up right on his leather black shoes.

We went here to celebrate my twentieth birthday: I'm the eldest between us, so we took really seriously my farewell to the teenage. We planned to get disgustingly drunk and to dance until we could stand, and I can say that, for what I remember (and it's not much, to be honest), we did.

What I can't absolutely bear in mind, instead, it's the moment when Aaron, the son of the owner, as well as one of my beast friends in those times, took me aside and brought me to his flat.

The official version is that I had lost my virginity the night of my twentieth birthday, with him, madly and utterly drunk, unable to understand and take action. I couldn't say that he raped me: shit, I don't think he had to force me to do anything, but hit was a cheap shot, damn, I could hardly breathe.

The last time I saw him I was in his flat in Soho, alone, with anything else than a pounding headache and a broken heart.

I remember me taking the tube, still shocked, and returning back home with the cheeks stained of teardrops, under Charlie and Bree's worried gaze.

I don't know exactly why I was so upset. Aaron is an handsome guy, and despite all, I love him, in a certain way. He's not even the total jerk I'm picturing right now. To be true the thing that hurt me the most is that I can't remember anything about such an important moment of my life. I could never ever change that.

When I loosen this uneasy hug I see worry in his bright eyes, and I feel slightly guilty for avoiding him and his persistent calls.

"Uhm, Fran, is everything... okay?"

"Perfect weather, don't you think so?"I stammer, giving him a small smile. And while he's nodding, I'm already disappeared, swallowed by the crowd.

A smaller, but, if possible, stronger, hand grip my wrist, forcing me to turn around again.

Brianne faces me with an angry frown on her beautiful features.

"What was that?"

"Wh-what?"

I know exactly what she's referring to.

"Perfect weather, don't you think so?" se says, mocking my trembling tone. "Where are your balls now, lady?"

Sometimes I'm too easygoing, I'm aware of it. I'm that kind of person that never wants to make you feel uncomfortable, that always tries to turn a blind eye on something bad and that let bygones be bygones. Bree thinks that my attitude is pure shit. If you're too kind to people that don't deserve your kindness, you will always ends up being hurt. And she's right.

That's why it's up on her slapping my face multiple times remembering me that I've pride and decency too, somewhere, and that's time to take them out.

"You won't ever-look at me-ever talk to him again." Charlie adds. Uhg. I honestly hate when they back each other.

Instead of replying her and start an useless argument, I catch up on my way to the porch, and when I finally reach it, I head for the bartender. I'm craving alcohol more than anything.

Even here I'm greeted from a familiar face.

***

A/N

Hi guys, hope you enjoyed your reading!

This is the first story ever I write in english, so forgive my typos and grammar mistakes, but it isn't my first language (it's barely my second one, lol) and I'm trying sooooo hard!

Please, help me editing this chapter, critics have never been so necessary: point out my mistakes and I'll fix them as soon as possible!

Sorry if it's that short, but I had to cut the original chapter in two parts, so I'll post the second one sooner!

Fan/Vote/Comment if you liked it! I'll be veryveryveryvery grateful, promise!

Love you all, Tod

p.s. A MASSIVE MASSIVE THANK YOU TO MY FAV BLONDIE FOR THE COVER. She's beyond perfect xx