The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists by Daniel Hurst (big ebook reader txt) 📗

seeking out alcohol when I have nothing better to do. Maybe so, maybe not, but I don’t want Chloe to drink as much as I do when she is older, so hopefully, I am doing the right thing in treating her like an adult.

I guess tonight will go some way to letting me know that. Either she drinks responsibly, or she is going to overdo it and make herself sick. Only time will tell.

Then again, I can say the same thing about my own drinking tonight too.

I suddenly hear a car pull up outside, and I’m on my way to the window to check if it is Chloe’s lift when I hear her bedroom door open, and she comes bounding down the stairs.

‘Mum, I’m going!’ she calls out to me, but I’m not going to let her make her escape that easily.

I need to make a final check on the dress situation before she goes.

Walking into the hallway, I see my daughter putting on a leather jacket, but it’s the sight of her bare legs that my eyes are drawn to the most. As I suspected, the dress is a little too short for what I would deem suitable for my daughter to be going out in tonight.

‘Chloe, I’m really not happy about that dress,’ I say, even though I know it will cause an eruption from my daughter. Sure enough, it happens.

‘Mum! It’s too late now! Zara is here!’

‘I told you to come and show me before you went.’

‘The dress is fine. I have to go!’

She turns for the doorway, and I think about being firmer and insisting she wears something else, but in the end, I take the easy option.

‘Okay. But be careful tonight. And go easy on the drink.’

‘Yes, Mum! Bye!’

The door is barely open before she slams it shut behind her again, and now I’m alone. Chloe didn’t even look back as she said goodbye, but why would she? Her mind is full of all of the exciting things she has to look forward to tonight.

I’m happy that she is happy.

I’m also happy that I get to have that second glass of wine now.

4

CHLOE

I’m on my third vodka and lemonade. Or is it my fourth?

Ooops, I’ve lost count.

All I do know is that I’m well on my way to being drunk, and it’s not even ten o’clock yet. Maybe I should pace myself, although judging by the state of everyone else around me, I’d be the only one to do so.

Everybody is wasted.

I’m standing in the kitchen with my back to the counter and my drink in hand, pretending to be listening to Zara and another girl talking about the latest Netflix series they are binge-watching, but really, I am watching the guy across the room. It’s Rupert, of course, and just like I predicted he would be, he is well dressed. He stands out so much when compared to the other guys at this party. Most of them are wearing scruffy t-shirts and either playing FIFA on an Xbox in the front room or passed out in a bedroom upstairs. But the problem with him standing out is that I’m not the only one who has noticed him. I’ve seen him chatting with at least two other girls from my form since he arrived here tonight, and I can tell they fancy him just as much as I do.

The question is, does he fancy them?

That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out as I stand here and sip my drink while keeping an eye on him across the room. So far, I haven’t noticed him glancing in the direction of the other girls, which is a good thing. But I haven’t seen him look at me either, which is obviously bad. I guess it’s time for me to get his attention.

It’s time for me to start working this dress.

‘Does anybody want another drink?’ I say as I head for the table in the middle of the room, and I hear Zara say she wants some gin, but I only asked to get Rupert to look up.

Thanks to my peripheral vision, I can tell that he is looking in my direction as I reach the table and start fiddling around with the packet of plastic cups. I pretend to struggle to get it open, but I’m hoping he will come and offer to help, and sure enough, two seconds later, he appears beside me.

‘Need a hand?’ he asks, taking the packet from me before tearing it open effortlessly and taking out a couple of cups.

‘Thanks,’ I say, making sure to give him a big smile and a flutter of my eyelashes, which I hope he enjoyed.

I guess he must have because now he is asking me what drink I would like.

I opt for gin this time, just like Zara, which means I’m now mixing my drinks, but that’s the least of my worries. That’s because one of the girls I saw chatting to Rupert earlier is now heading for this table too.

I guess she isn’t going to let me near him without a fight.

Fortunately, I consider myself much wiser than my age would suggest, so I know that the best thing to do to get a guy to like me is not to be too keen. Instead, I should play hard to get, which is why I thank Rupert for the drink and walk away, leaving him to the clingy girl who approached him.

I smirk to myself as I return to my spot by the kitchen counter and notice Rupert looking at me from across the room while my rival tries in vain to get his attention. I also feel the alcohol’s buzz in my system, and it’s starting to become a familiar feeling ever since I started drinking regularly at sixteen. Of course, Mum doesn’t know I’ve been drinking as long as I have. If she did, I doubt she would be so casual in how she handles the subject of alcohol with me.

Zara and