I stop in front of my mirror and stare at myself. And curse myself. And curse myself a little bit more. Of course my body choses this particular day to have a 'fat day'. And of course my face choses this particular day to erupt in pimples. Maybe it's stress that's causing my face to resemble the surface of the moon. I think I'm getting an ulcer from chewing on the lining of my mouth. Hmm.

Quite honestly, I do care about my appearance but I'm not vain. I never go to extremes. But I think today I have surpassed my limits and definetly entered the realm of vain-hood. And if I really stop and be completely honest with myself I have to admit it might have something to do with a someone by the name of....oh, I dunno... Taylor? Considering it's the first time I'm going to have seen him since that minor (ahem) argument that we had if I'm not looking at the very least 'presentable' I'm going to go on a murderous rampage. I grit my teeth at my reflection. Murderous rampage here I come.

I miss Taylor. A heck of a lot. I wish I hadn't just erupted and instead tried to talk it out with him but a severe case of PMS made that course of action futile. We've been incommunicado for two months. The most we've ever gone is two weeks and that was when he was on tour and spent every spare waking moment sleeping. Yes, sleeping. Not talking on the phone to his friend halfway across the globe. I'm still bitter. Although that two weeks most definitely does not compare to this. Sometimes I have to stop myself from doing anything stupid like picking up the phone and dialling his number. Too bad I just can't get over my stupid pride and ring the bastard because then I'm sure this entire thing would be resolved. But noooooo...Gia refuses to say sorry. I am sorry though. Not about the whole issue but because some extremely hurtful things were said that day, and on my part at least, I wish I hadn't had said them.

I wonder if he's trying extra hard to look good now. Probably not, he obviously doesn't care for my opinion. So then why have I changed my outfit forty billion times? Because I want him to be pissed off. God, I sound like I'm going to face an ex-boyfriend. Rather than sit here having my thoughts go round in circles I'm going to get off my ass and go to this stupid party that for the past week I've been building up the courage to go to.

I hurry down the stairs at a speed which I'm sure could qualify me for the 100 metre event at the Olympics and virtually fling myself into a cab. I state the address and sit back and try my absolute best to relax. Fat chance. I've always thought it funny how when you want something to last forever it doesn't and when you don't it does. This cab ride was something that I did want to last forever and I think it might just be the shortest ride I've had in this city. It might even surpass the cab ride I had just before my politics final. I rummage through my purse as long as I can without being considered weird and hesitantly hand over my change to the driver. He flashes me a greasy, toothy grin and I tentatively step out.

I'm sort of glad I've convinced myself to come because this is a 'James' party and no one in their right mind would skip a 'James' party. Although my mind tonight is definitely not right. There always seems to be someone in a crowd who can throw an absolutely huge party at any given moment and at minimal notice. James is one of those people. I think maybe a flashy apartment is one of the determining factors for these people and James has the flashiest apartment. I think I could fall in love with James just for his ability to throw these parties - and even the fact that he's gay wouldn't get in the way. When Taylor and I were actually friends we could easily speak for the following week about these parties.

Walking past reception I quickly thank God for elevators, stilettos were not made for climbing stairs. I look down at my outfit I think maybe the fifty-first time since entering the cab back at my place and wonder if stilettos with jeans were a good idea. It's not like I can do much about it now though, unless I want to start a bare-footed trend around New York City.

The door is open and, along with the other ten people which have accompanied me in the elevator, I enter. I descend the stairs in his apartment that is a converted warehouse and take in the atmosphere. Dark blue lights this time instead of the pink last parté and I, like the others who've just come in stare at the feature of this party. James always has to have something that surpasses the meaning of "cool" at each party, and it's always a different thing. He keeps telling me it's his daddy's money but I swear he must be dealing drugs on the side to have something like this installed. There is a tank moulding the floor of his apartment that is filled with water. I don't know what the mechanics of it are but the water is being swished around like the entire apartment has become a boat and we're partying on a glass bottom ... apartment? Blue pool lights illuminate the water. I feel like I've entered the twilight zone.

I'm in awe.

I start to make my way through the crowd. It seems like with each party James throws the crowd gets larger.

"Gia," a hand grabs my arm. I turn around.

"Cathy! How are you?"

"I'm really good, yourself?"

"Great," She replies. I'm glad I've bumped into her; I haven't seen her since she started dating Louis. I think the problem with Cathy is you just can't get mad at her. She's far too nice. She was one of my first friends in this town and together with Jenny, Louis, Alanna, Tracey and Jessie we formed a little group. We grew apart mostly on my part after a little "incident". I liked Louis, he liked Cathy, Cathy liked Louis. Can you guess the ending to that tale? I guess I should have told them what was up with me but as I tend to have a problem which prevents me from telling a guy how I feel about him. Hence my status of never having been in a relationship. Since I started drifting from them it hasn't been like it was. But you can't stay mad at Cath for too long, she's just so nice. Not that I have any reason to be mad at her - it's just jealousy which has manifested into anger. But anyway, she's one of those kind of people you want to hate but can't.

"I'm glad to hear it. How's Jenny, Louis, Alanna?"

"Oh they're all great. Jenny is transferring to Rhodes, finally! She's going with Jeremy. He just proposed to her. Louis has applied for a job with IBM and..." Her voice trails off in my brain as I catch a certain blue eye across the room. Taylor. We stare at each other. Do I smile? Look away? A smirk forms on his face and he gives me an up and down before turning to his friend and draping his arm around some blonde chick's shoulders.

I look away and a shudder runs through me as I take in the fact that Taylor gave me a dirty look. I feel a pain somewhere in the recesses of my body where my heart should be. After all the years that we've been through how can he turn around and give me a look just like he did? I furiously try to blink back the tears,

"You okay?" Cathy places an arm on mine,

"Um, yeah," I choke. She takes my hand and leads me outside to the terrace.

"What's up?"

"Nothing,"

"Uh huh," she states and raises her eyebrow, "You only met Taylor's eyes and suddenly looked like Casper,"

"That bad?"

"Worse. I can list off a thousand other people that you might have looked like, Morticia, Frankenstein..."

"Thanks, Cath," I drawl. So much for looking great.

"My pleasure. So what's the deal?"

"We're not exactly on friendly terms,"

"I might have guessed from that look he shot you,"

"Yeah,"

"Don't give him the satisfaction of getting to you," she shrugs, "That's about the only advice I can offer you,"

"I think you may be right," I agree,

" 'Allo, 'allo, 'allo," Louis joins our conversation, I grin up at him.

" 'Allo,"

"How are you, Gi-meister?" He sits down on the deck chair next to Cathy and wraps his arms around her waist,

"That never gets old," I smirk, "I'm fabulous and yourself?"

"Good. Have you been hitting the bottle already? Your eyes look bloodshot," he comments. Cathy swats him,

"Close enough, I've been trying not to cry," I say with false brightness. Louis' facial expression changes from teasing to sympathetic in an instant, "Nah, don't worry about it, it's cool. I'll get over it. Anyway, " I state with a wave of my hand, "So...what do you think your chances of getting this IBM job are?"

"Oh I dunno, " he starts and continues through. Before I know it we've been sitting there for two hours and it starts to feel spookily like old times. Cathy takes my wrist and starts playing with my turquoise bracelet,

"This is so cool,"

"I think so, it cost a packet,"

"Really?"

"Mmmhmm,"

"Money is so evil," Louis declares,

"Tell me something I don't know," I laugh,

"Alright," Cathy pauses, "Taylor's heading this way. Bet you didn't know that,"

"Huh?" A panic sets in and a few moments following the panic I feel a shake of my shoulders.

"Gia," Taylor's slurred voice distinctly comes from behind me, I turn around. He's standing there with a whisky glass in his hand looking pissed off his nut. He appears to be looking directly at me but I'm left with the feeling he's not really seeing me,

"Taylor?"

"Gia, fuck you. Fuck you, man. This is a toast to you," he states and walks off. Or stumbles off. I glance at my watch. Eleven o'clock. Taylor rarely gets drunk this early in the night. I don't quite know what to do. I decide to stay put, he doesn't want me to talk to him obviously,

"He's quite pissed off at you," Cathy declares,

"No kidding," I state sourly, "Don't worry though, it's being reciprocated,"

"Ouch, what's the deal?"

"He's just being a guy," I smirk. Louis gives me a look of being mock offended, "You know how guys are,"

"Women are worse,"

"Quite possibly," I agree. Women are worse. Women are cows, "Anyone want another drink?" I ask getting up and holding my empty glass,

"Uh...yeah," Cathy smiles, "Grey Goose and tonic,"

"Yep, Louis?"

"One for me too,"

"Sure," I make my way to the bar and order. After a five-minute wait I'm handed the drinks and I make my way back to Cathy and Louis. It's great, they're making out on the deck chair we were sitting on. I quietly (as is physically possible in this noise. Not that there's any need to try to be quiet here since the psychedelic music drowns out almost everything) place their drinks on the small little table which is little with drinks and walk back inside. I head over towards the bar again hoping I'll see someone else I know. Nothing. I go and order my drink,

"A Mohíto please," I yell at the waiter. He puts a hand behind his ear, indicating he didn't hear, "Mohíto," I almost scream. He grins at me and gives me a thumbs up then sets about making it. I wait and as much as I hate it I can feel where Taylor is in the huge room that is overflowing with people. My eyes are drawn in his direction. He is with the same blonde chick. The waiter hands me my drink, I give him a grateful smile and I turn around just in time to see the blondie slap him and walk off. He puts a hand up to what I imagine is a red mark (which in this light just looks like a darker shade of blue) and I can very vaguely see a hurt expression on his face. Some evil little elf living inside my body tugs on my heart strings and I can't stop myself from going over to see if he's okay,

"Taylor, you okay?" I ask (or yell as may be the case), genuinely concerned,

"I'm fine," he screams coldly, "You don't have to sit there and sneer about it," he lurches dangerously

"Taylor, you should sit down,"

"I'm not doing anything you tell me,"

"Don't be ridiculous, you're going to fall over,"

"You don't have to be the boss of me," he yells petulantly and just as he finishes his sentence he puts a hand over his mouth and starts pushing his way through the crowd. I reluctantly follow. Even in my relegated status I feel responsible for his welfare. We make it outside the apartment and I am thoroughly relieved by two factors: the first, the dip in noise level, the second: the fact that I can't see the contents of Taylor's stomach. He still looks green (now that he's not looking blue anymore) though. I latch onto his hand and steer him to the elevator. He doesn't object. We safely yet silently make it into the lobby as more people are piling in. I push him gently outside. It's bizarre to be helping him out like this and to be so physically close to him again. I don't quite understand how it's happened.

We're outside now on the footpath and we start walking to Taylor's apartment, my hands gently on his elbows. He staggers along. I thank my lucky stars that Taylor's apartment is so close, only four blocks away. Taylor and James actually met at the local Starbucks.

"Breathe deeply," I instruct Taylor. He nods mutely. This is why I don't go on any dates, I'm never around long enough to meet anyone at a party. I'm looking after Taylor. I don't half mind though, funnily enough. I'm glad just to be able to have some sort of interaction with him. The two months has killed me. We arrive at Taylor's block . We enter the building,

"Nice to see you again, Ms Mazziatto," George smiles at me. I smile back at the doorman,

"You too George, long time no see," I comment,

"Right you are," he glances at Taylor, "Take care of him,"

"He needs it," I mutter and George laughs. We both get into the elevator, Taylor glaring at me as I do so. We step out onto his floor and walk (or zigzag in a certain someone's case) to his door. He takes out his keys and tries to fit them into the lock. I take them from him and let us in. Just as he steps into his place he breaks into a run towards the bathroom. I try not to smile.

I follow him in to find him kneeled in front of the toilet dry-wretching. The poor thing. I hold back his hair as he finally throws up. He owes me - that's the only thought that's racing through my mind as the smell of vomit fills the air. I stand there for a good ten minutes before he stands up and flushes. He looks so sick.

"Wash your mouth out," I instruct and he dutifully does so. I walk out and find a small wash cloth from the linen closet, I wash it out with cold water and walk back into his bedroom. Taylor is sitting hunched over on his bed. The room is dark with only the outside lights shining in. The blue light of the moon illuminates his frame. I walk over and stand in front of him. I smoothly run the cloth over his forehead and his cheeks. His eyes are closed and in that moment he looks angelic with a halo of the blue light framing his hair. His eyes flutter open,

"I should sleep," he mutters.

"Can you take your shirt off?" I ask, "You'll be more comfortable and you won't smell," he shrugs in reply. I stand in front of him and undo the buttons on his shirt. White has always suited him. I try not to think about the flesh that's underneath him. He has such a nice body. Well sculpted and toned. I pull the shirt off him and gesture towards the bed. He throws himself onto it and obediently closes his eyes. I look at his shoes and sigh; I should take them off, shouldn't I? I undo the laces and tug them off doing the same with the socks. I am reluctant to leave him but I know I probably should. I sneak one last look at him before turning to the door. In this infinite moment I miss him so terribly it's a physical pain and it's all I can do to stop from crying. As I reach the door I hear a small, weak, "Gia". I turn and look at Taylor and he is looking at me, his head slightly elevated off the pillow, his mouth opens to say something and then it appears he thinks better of it and just closes his mouth and lies on the pillow again.

As I walk out the door the realisation that I'm not going to sleep very well tonight dawns on me.