As the tube train pulled away, Adam stifled a yawn. He could do with a night in, but saying ‘no’ to Jax was more trouble than it was worth.

‘How do I look?’ Jax asked.

‘Great.’

She peered through her platinum fringe and arched an eyebrow. ‘Just great?’

She was wearing a tight pink mini-dress and heels so high that they looked impossible to walk in. Her make-up was immaculate, as ever, and her recently cut bob accentuated her sharp cheekbones. She looked to Adam like ‘80s Madonna, and he loved her for that.

‘You know you look hot,’ he said.

He looked down at his own outfit: tight shirt, skinny jeans and winklepickers; all of which Jax had chosen for his ‘image change’, none of which he felt comfortable in.

Jax smiled a tight smile. ‘A compliment never hurts though, does it?’

‘Do you think Kris will be there tonight?’

‘You’re not still hung up on him.’ Jax groaned. ‘He dumped you. Get over it.’

‘I am over it,’ said Adam, too quickly to be believed. Not that Jax was listening, busy as she was tapping a text message.

‘How many pills?’ she asked.

‘I’m not sure I want any.’

‘Don’t be a pussy. I’m texting Ste now. I’ll get us a dozen. You’re okay to pay. Thank god for that inheritance of yours.’

She slipped the phone back into her handbag and took out a small bag of white powder.

‘Here,’ she said, handing it to Adam. ‘In case they check my handbag.’

‘But what if they search me?’

‘My god, don’t look so worried.’ Jax laughed. ‘Fuck, you’re so middle-class. If they search you, just act innocent. It’s a warehouse in Vauxhall. They don’t give a shit what you do.’

Adam cleared his throat. ‘So why don’t you take it, then?’

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips; this was her look of disdain typically reserved for fat people and Crocs.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said ’Why don’t you take it?’’

‘Don’t be a dick. It’s the least you can do.’

‘What does that mean?’

The train slowed down.

Jax tutted. ‘Look at you. You were nothing until I came along. You were invisible for the whole of freshers’ week. You owe me.’

When the doors opened beside then, Jax stood, but Adam remained seated.

‘Adam, come on. I’m not pandering to your little drama.’

She stepped onto the platform and Adam followed her, stopping at the doors.

Taking the cocaine from his pocket, he threw it at her. It hit her vintage leather jacket, bounced off and hit the floor.

‘You’re a bitch, Jacquline Fielder,’ he said. ‘You’re a narcissistic, money-grabbing cow who cares about no one but herself. And that haircut? It’s horrible. It makes you look like a Lego man.’

As if on cue, the doors swooshed closed and Jax’s mouth dropped into a perfect ‘O’.

Adam smiled as the train pulled away. A friend like that he could do without.