It’s been eight years. Falling in, falling out and falling back again in love. Fights and break ups, later kiss and patch ups are a part of their lives. Alan and Victoria can’t and wouldn’t have it in any other way either. But every time that they get back, they find each other having changed a little. Sometimes the fights would become a little violent and then Alan would be crying and making up for being a total jerk, mostly with passionate sex. It’s like their own kind of drug, and they both are addicted. Their group of 12 is pretty much intact with occasional tagalongs from time to time, for a few. Tonight they were all meeting up again for their monthly get together, a ritual they had followed since their graduation day, five years back! Fortunately or unfortunately the rest of the group had not yet arrived apart from the two.
“This is it, Alan… I’m through. This time, there’ll be no makeup sex” Monique chugged the remaining beer in her mug, plunked it on the table and walked off.
Alan kept stirring his glass, the disfigured ice cubes bobbing in the liquid golden amber. The rock band strummed along on the stage. The multicoloured string lights strobed alternately, submerging the surroundings from starry blue to blood red, to fiery orange to Christmassy green. He finally picked up the glass after a couple of minutes, took a sip of the smooth single malt and spreading his arms on the armrest, still holding the whiskey glass in his hand, sunk back into the couch, relaxed.