The Problem With Crazy (22 page)

“Michael, just because we’re out of school now doesn’t mean you can touch me.” Stacey endured the hug with a lot less tolerance than me. “And you smell like a brewery. Gross.”

“Ah, come on, I don't smell that bad, do I?”

“Yes.” Stacey and I answered in unison.

“I, uh, thought you guys were supposed to be out of town this week.” I tried to sound casual, my voice light, and my eyes focussed out the window.

“Oh, yeah, well everyone else is in Wollongong, but I wanted to come home and see Mum so I drove back after the gig instead of partying.” Michael froze and his mouth formed a tiny
O
, and then shut again. “Not that the rest of the guys are, you know, partying heaps hard. Mostly they just sit around with Lee and Coal, and …”

“Michael, it's okay.” I waved his speedy explanation off. “Dave's allowed to go out and party. We broke up. It’s how it works.”

“Yeah,” Stacey chimed in. “Kate and I certainly have been.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, the picture of confidence. I smiled, thinking of our one-off trip to Queensland and the time she’d helped me with the groceries since we came back. It was hardly the definition of party. Thank God for good friends.

“Oh, really? That's awesome. Because I have a night off and nothing to do, and it'd be great if you guys were heading out. Then we could all go out together, like old times.” Michael's eyes lit up, and he shuffled his feet. “It'd be nice to chill on home turf, you know?”

“Well, we are going out for dinner tonight.” Stacey nodded, and I wondered if the action was to help convince Michael or me of the plan.

“Rad! I’d love to come.” Michael tapped my shoulder with the back of his hand, like it was the best idea he’d ever heard. “So, ladies, shall we just meet out, or have a few drinks before, or …” Michael weighed up the options with his hands.

Stacey filled in the blanks since I'd developed the speaking prowess of a goldfish; I was all open mouth, shut, open mouth, shut. “Meet out. We’ll go to the Thai place in Lakes at eight tonight.”

“Cool, see ya there, babes.” Michael winked and waved then walked out of the shop as casually as he'd entered. He seemed to lope, like every step was an adventure.

“Well … that was interesting.” Stacey widened her eyes.

“I …”

“You need a new outfit. That’s what you’re about to say, right?” Stacey grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer to her side.

“I guess?”

“Of course you do. We need Michael to report back to Dave how hot you’re looking.” She moved to charge forward, and I stood there, stuck in the pharmacy.

“Kate?” When she turned around, her eyes were sparkling. She gave a small smile.

I grabbed a tube off the shelf and took it to the cashier for payment. “You forgot your candy pink.”

When I’d chosen a new dress, Stacey relented and let us stop for a break. She was determined to check out my new place of employment, which was why we ended up at Sideways.

“Are you going up to order?” Stacey placed her menu down in front of me.

“No, I thought you could.” I pushed the menu back toward her across the red Formica top. Johnny had seemed fine after Dad’s little incident, but I wanted to keep a low profile, anyway.

“Isn’t this the café you work at?” Stacey arched one of her manicured brows at me.

“Look, Dad’s been a bit of a pain recently, and—”

“Kate! Hi.” As per usual, I heard Lachlan before I saw him. That boy had a way of creeping around.

I glanced up to drink him in. His hips were in line with my eyes, and I could see the shadow of his torso through the thin material of his shirt. It was so close to me that I could touch it, lift it up just a little if I wanted to see what was underneath.

My hands started twitching in my lap. Apparently, a week without seeing him had done nothing to dull my attraction, even though I’d decided not to pursue it.

“And who is this?” Stacey gave me an open-mouthed grin and I felt my heart sink into my stomach. Oh, no. Not the Stacey Show today. Not with him.

Please
.

“This is just Lachlan.” I tossed my hand in his direction. “And Lach, this is Stacey.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, just Lachlan,” Stacey purred. She held her hand out in the air and he shook it gracefully.

“I can’t believe Kate hasn’t mentioned you.” Stacey smiled but her eyes clearly said,
And why haven’t you, you selfish bitch?

“She hasn’t?” Lachlan drew his eyebrows together. “That’s odd.”

“I know.”

“Especially since we were naked together last week.”

Stacey’s jaw dropped so hard and fast, I worried that she may have done some serious internal damage.

“It’s not like that.” I shook my head. “We were just skinny-dipping, and—”

“You went skinny-dipping?” Stacey’s eyes were wide, emphasis on the word
you
.

“What’s so hard to believe about that?”

“Nothing.” Stacey shrugged and tapped her nails on the table-top. “It just—doesn’t seem like something you’d do. You hate stuff like that.”

“She really enjoyed it,” Lachlan said. “Even raced laps with me.”

“Apparently, there are a few things
she
hasn’t been telling me lately.” Stacey’s eyes were narrowed now, and I shrunk back into my seat. I was going to kill Lachlan next time we worked together.

“I’ll have a flat white, thanks.”

“Make that two, please.” Stacey smiled and Lachlan nodded, turning to walk to the kitchen. “Oh! Before you go, Lachlan, what are you up to tonight?”

No, Stacey. Stop it.

Stop it right now.

“We’re going to dinner with a friend of mine—would you be interested in coming, too?” I’m fairly sure Stacey batted her eyelashes.

“I’m sure he’s probably busy.” I gave a sharp kick, but caught the table leg instead of Stacey’s ankle.

“Actually, I’m free as a bird,” Lachlan said.

“But it’s probably going to be too early for you, with close.” I didn’t even try to hide the implication in my voice.

You are not invited. I don’t want you to come.

“Not at all.” Lachlan shook his head. “In fact, I’m knocking off early today. Where are we headed?”

“The Thai at Lakes at eight.” Stacey smiled sweetly. “Don’t be late.”

As soon as he was back in the kitchen I folded my arms firmly across my chest and stared Stacey down.

“What the hell was that all about?”

“You don’t think Dave hearing you’re out with some hot new guy will hurt his ego?”

“I don’t care what Dave thinks,” I hissed back.

“Even though he’s dating Lee Collins’s ex-girlfriend, less than a month after you guys broke up?”

I scowled, and flicked a packet of sugar at her. So maybe I did care a little …

“And you can honestly tell me you don’t want to go to dinner with that guy? I saw you, eying his stomach like you wanted to rip his shirt off right then and there.” Stacey shook her head. “And skinny-dipping? And I’m finding this out
now
?” Stacey let out a long rush of air escape through her glossy lips as she shook her head, and fluttered her eyes to the ceiling.

I stared down at my chipped nails. I could feel the shimmies of butterflies as they raced each other around my stomach. I was going to dinner with Lachlan, Dave’s best friend and Stacey, and I was going to have to act happy and like everything at home was fine, and keep the disease specifics from Lachlan, and keep the skinny-dipping and counselling specifics from Michael and—there was no way those things in my stomach were butterflies.

The beating wings in my stomach definitely belonged to an eagle.

W
E WERE
late for dinner. Technically, we were ten minutes early—it was just that Stacey refused to let us be the first ones there.

After picking me up and driving us to the restaurant, she convinced me we should bide our time in a public toilet two blocks away. I tried my hardest not to touch anything or breathe in any air that wasn't entirely necessary, and Stacey conducted a study of the back door graffiti, and tried to work out if she knew any of the names mentioned.

“
Emily is a slut
,” she read slowly. “Do you think they mean Emily Greene, from school?”

I thought back to high school, which seemed so long ago. Emily had been known to cheat on her boyfriends.

“Maybe,” I replied.

“I’d say she’s more a cheater than a slut. She hasn’t done everyone, she’s just done the guys she has at the wrong bloody time.”

I tried to stifle a laugh then pursed my lips together as the foul-smelling air crept into my mouth.
Gross
.

“Can we just go to the restaurant already?” I rested my hand against the side of a cubicle then jerked it away as I felt something sticky. I took a few steps to the left and hit the other wall, spinning around and trying to check the back of my dress for dirt.

“Come on.” Stacey held out her arm and I linked mine in it, walking with her across the street to the restaurant.

Inside, the crowd was buzzing: the restaurant was near full. That is, except for the front booth. Still empty. Despite our attempt at making an entrance, we’d failed.

“Table for two?” A waitress in uniform black, asked us.

“Booking for Tomlinson, thanks.” Stacey walked past the waitress to the table, slowly edging her way into the booth as if she could drag out our entrance just another second.

I slid in next to her and fiddled with my hands in my lap, wringing them together. What if I looked horrible? I looked down at my dress again, trying to remember how it had appeared in the mirror earlier that day. Not that I cared how I looked, of course. I had no one to impress.

But what if?

“What if they don't come?”

“Shush!”

“Did you definitely give them the right time?”

“Shut up!”

“Are you sure?”

This last comment earned me a stiletto-shod kick in the ankle.

Ouch.
Clearly her aim was better than mine.

“Hey.” Michael's gruff voice broke up our fight. He plonked a six-pack of beer and a bottle of pink sparkling wine in front of us on the table, his eyes all puppy-dog hopeful. Condensation slid down the sides of the beverages, the cardboard box holding the beer together turning soggy around the edges. “I didn't know what you girls wanted to drink, but I asked my sister, and she said sweet and sparkly was the go, so …”

“That's so thoughtful of you.” I noted his button-up shirt, his black jeans and the neat way he’d pulled his dreadlocks back. This wasn’t the sort of look Michael wore when he was just hanging around the house. He was definitely trying to impress Stacey. I stifled a grin, hoping his efforts would work.

“I guess we can always walk home.” Stacey flagged over a waitress who popped the cork for us, and returned with two champagne flutes.

“So, is it just us tonight?” Michael slid into the booth next to Stacey, his brown eyes widening. He sat close to her, the sort of close that would freak you out if he were a stranger seated next to you on public transport, but she didn’t seem to mind.