I sank back on the sofa and shut my eyes, feeling the tequila, champagne and coke mixing in my veins. All evening I had been trying to connect the boy I’d known with the Clare of today, and this only brought into sharp focus the strangeness of it all. Had he really changed that much? Did they sit in their London flat, snorting up, side by side, and did he think of what he’d said when he was sixteen and reflect on the irony of it, the irony that he was now one of those tossers he’d laughed at all those years ago?
(show spoiler)
Ok. Never mind. We're back into the same territory as The Hunting Party and the people at the party have turned into idiots.
They all seem to be hung up on something, and what is worse is that even tho they don't really know each other, none of the characters seem to have the common sense to not rise to the others' jibes.
And wtf is the mc still doing at the party?
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