“So, who’s first, ladies?” Wickham says, rubbing his hands together.

“Not you,” Darcy says, rolling her eyes, and for a moment I forget to hate her. She hands the bottle to Caroline. “Go for it.”

Thus follow the most immature ten minutes of my life. Caroline gets Fitzy, who gets William (much guffawing, but to their credit they go to town), who gets Louisa, who gets Wickham, who gets Lydia (they are enthusiastic). Lydia gets Jane, Jane gets Bing (of course), Bing gets Jane back (gee, wonder how that happened), and Jane gets me.

Then, because the universe hates me tonight, I get Darcy.

We kneel in the centre of the circle, and for a second, time slows down. The noise of the party fades away, and all I can see are her lips. I decide to forget that Darcy is the worst. I let go of the hurt I felt hearing her talk about my mom and my friends and I just focus on her gorgeous lips.

When they reach mine –

I feel it down to my toes. My whole body sings. It should be so awkward with everyone watching but it’s not. Somehow we’ve both risen up on our knees so that we’re no longer sitting on the backs of our heels – which means she is pressed against me, from knees to lips, one hand on my cheek, the other in my hair, and

It

Is

Amazing.

Well, crap.

*

The rest of the party passes in a blur, and I don’t think it’s the beer. I’ve kissed a lot of girls before – OK, not a lot, but a respectable number – and it’s never felt like that before. The idea of kissing was more exciting than the actuality. But … and I’m struggling to accept this idea … I might have a crush on Darcy. Maybe. Just a bit. And that might have made kissing her the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.

On the way home, everyone is quiet. Lydia is asleep on my shoulder, snoring lightly. I just sit there, reliving that kiss.

I’m still in a happy, sexy haze when I wake up to my phone ringing on Sunday morning. No one ever calls me except my mother, who I assume is in the house with me, so I stare at the phone uncomprehendingly, with sleep still blurring my eyes. It’s Jane.

“Jane?”

Sobs come from the other end of the phone. I sit up like a shot.

“Jane, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“He…” She breaks down.

“What? Who? What’s going on?”

“He … sob … broke up … sob … with me!” Then she dissolves into tears again.

I eventually get the story out of her. They were supposed to go for brunch this morning, but when Bing came to pick her up, he said they couldn’t see each other any more.

“He was crying too… I don’t understand!”

I am just as confused as Jane. They were all gooeyeyed last night, just as they’ve been for months. What changed?