The Problem With Crazy (23 page)

“No, Kate’s friend, Lachlan, is coming, too.” Stacey all but wiggled her eyebrows and I shot her another look, the kind that had daggers behind it.

“Where’s Lachlan from?”

“We just work together.” I studied the black table-top, the napkin in front of me folded into some sort of a crown. “That’s all.”

“He’s a bit late," Michael said, ignoring the fact that he’d hardly been the picture of punctuality himself. He picked up the green plastic menu and studied it.

“Speaking of …” Stacey tilted her head toward the doorway. Lachlan walked in. He was wearing a white T-shirt that only made his skin appear tanner in contrast, his dark denim jeans tight, but not too tight. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders hunched as he scanned the tables for us, then, after a few minutes, he finally settled his intense, dark brown eyes on our group.

On me.

I shuffled in my seat.

“Hey, mate.” Michael was on his feet, arm outstretched. He shook Lachlan’s hand vigorously, his usual effervescent self. “I’m Michael.”

“Lachlan.” Lachlan smiled. “Hi Stacey. Hey, Kate.”

“Hi Lachlan,” Stacey said. “Why don’t you slide on in over there next to Kate?” She pointed to my side of the booth. This time, when I aimed my foot at her ankle, I didn’t miss. At this rate, we’d both be limping out of here.

Lachlan manoeuvred his body around the black leather booth and came to a stop three inches from my right leg. He smelt fresh scent, and earthy, topped with a hint of coffee. No store-bought product could ever smell so good, so proper and manly.

“We should look at the menus.” The words came out of my mouth in a tumble as I grabbed one of the cards from the table and started reading.

“Oh, come on, Kate, Lachlan just got here,” Stacey said.

“There’s no rush.” I felt rather than saw his broad shoulders shrug. The butterflies in my stomach were back, snowballing their way around my lining. I was acutely aware of everything Lachlan did, of how close he was to me.

Get a grip, Kate. He’s just a guy.

And until you take that test …

“Hmm … I think I’ll have the chilli basil,” Stacey said. “I feel like something spicy.”

“You look really pretty.”

I blinked.

Had Lachlan just said that, super quiet under his breath, or was I hearing things?

I chanced a quick look in his direction and was met with those dark eyes of his, rimmed with the perfect long, black lashes.

“Th … thanks,” I eventually managed to spit out. I sharply turned my head back to the menu. This was not going well.

“’Scuse me.” Michael frowned as his phone started to ring. He grabbed it off the table and answered, not seeing the drawn eyebrows Stacey directed at him.

“Well, there goes his chance.” She turned to face us.

“Date not going well?” Lachlan said in a hushed voice. “He seems nice enough.”

“He is.” I eyeballed Stacey. If she could try to force Lachlan onto me, there was no reason I couldn’t try to force Michael on her.

“Sorry, guys.” Michael hung up the phone and turned his attention back to us. “That was just Dave.”

Silence washed over the table. Michael cracked his knuckles.

“You know what we should do? Take a photo. Kate, Lachlan, squeeze together!” Stacey said in a shrill voice.

It didn’t take a barista to understand what she was brewing. Take a photo, post it online, wait till Dave saw it, which of course he eventually would, and hope he got jealous.

Still, it was ridiculous. I was having a difficult enough time trying to fight my own stupid, guilty attraction-but-not-really-attraction to Lachlan, let alone having to deal with Stacey pushing me onto him, too.

“Let’s not.” I shook my head, and deliberately leaned towards Stacey.

“Why? It’ll be cute.” Stacey pouted.

“I just don’t think it’s really appropriate, I—”

“Well, look who it is.”

The voice cut through the air, loud, harsh, and cruel. I’d recognise it anywhere.

“Dave. Hi.” Michael shifted in his seat. I kept my head down but raised my eyes.

Dave slouched, one arm resting up against the dark leather of our booth. He was wearing a black button-up shirt—new, I noted—and skinny blue jeans that clung to his legs like glue. His hair was spiked up and his pale green eyes were piercing as they glared right at me.

Oh, and wrapped in his other arm was a seriously hot blonde girl I recognised from the newspapers.

Lee Collins’s ex-girlfriend.

“Who are your friends, baby?” she asked in some sort of European accent, twirling a lock of her honeyed hair around a finger. Of course she was gorgeous
and
foreign, I thought. What a cliché. She swayed into Dave’s chest like she was drunk.

I hated her.

“You know Michael, right?” He pulled her even closer, so there was no space at all between their bodies. “And these are just some girls I went to school with; Stacey and Kate.”

The words stung exactly as they were intended to. Dave looked over at me, his green eyes cool and calculating as I saw him size me up and judge every bit of flesh on my bones, from my waist to my crown, like I was barely worthy of breathing the same air he did. Like I was barely worthy of living.

Stacey came to my rescue. “This is Lachlan, Kate’s—
friend
.” I regretted kicking her under the table earlier.

“Oh, hey, man.” Dave jerked his head in Lachlan’s direction.

What had I ever seen in him?

“Well, this is a weird coincidence, but I guess I’ll just see you tomorrow?” Michael asked. He was sheepishly studying his cutlery, like he hoped it could spirit him away to another country.

I didn’t for a second think Michael had planned this, but it didn’t make it any less awkward. Nor did it make him any more appealing to Stacey, who was currently staring at him with very thin lips and glittering angry eyes.

“What? You gotta be kidding me! Three old friends running into each other on a night like this? We should share a table.” Dave opened his arms wide.

“You remember you two are in a band together, right?” I snapped.

“Yeah. You’re going to see him tomorrow,” Stacey chimed in.

“True.” Michael tilted his head toward her. I had to give him credit. Going up against Dave was never easy.

“All the more reason to join you now.” Dave unleashed his girlfriend from his grip and sat down next to Lachlan, leaving her hovering awkwardly next to the table. “Sit.” He nodded to the seat next to Michael.

“Does she respond well to other commands, too?” Score one, Stacey.

“Yeah. She’s particularly good at one special command—” Dave looked pointedly at me, “—that I know
some
people wouldn’t ever do. Am I right, man?” Dave looked expectantly at Lachlan.

I wanted to die.

If I could melt into the folds of the booth, that would be great.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lachlan met Dave’s gaze, holding it without waver.

“You know …” Dave gave him a not-so-subtle wink.

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, maybe you guys aren’t at that stage in your relationship yet.” Dave laughed and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Don’t hold your breath waiting, man.”

The stabbing pain was real, straight through my heart. I’d thought I was over him; I knew he’d been a jerk. But still, being basically called frigid at dinner, with his new supermodel-esque girlfriend across the table, in front of a guy who I didn’t-like-but-maybe-a-little did? It sucked. It more than sucked. It hurt.

“Huh.” Lachlan shrugged and took a long swig of the beer Michael had placed in front of him earlier. “Guess you mustn’t have been all that good at foreplay, then.”

My eyes widened.

Had he just—in a weird, roundabout kind of way—implied I’d had sex with him? Or … foreplay with him?

How—sweet?

“From what I hear, he certainly wasn’t.” Stacey was like a horse at the gate. “A bit of a non-event, you know?”

“You are talking about the bedroom, no?” Dave’s accessory opened her mouth for the second time.

“Yes, dear,” Michael sounded like he was speaking to a child. Even he was getting in on the act. A smile worked its way up my face.

“Oh.” She nodded thoughtfully. “He very good and—how you say—fast?”

“She means, like, fast at it, not quick,” Dave said. But it was too late. The damage had already been done, and Stacey, Michael, Lachlan and I burst into a cacophony of laughter, the kind of laughter that drew the attention of people at other tables.

Dave grabbed the table, and the veins on his hands popped out. I waited for his outburst, for him to snap and leave—but it didn’t come.

“Fast and hard, and lasting all night. You know it, baby.” Dave stood up and walked to the opposite side of the booth where he bent over and kissed his Swedish miss. And trust me, kissing was the polite term for it.

“Chill, man.” Michael shot him a worried look out the corner of his eye.

“Let him do what he wants. Who cares?” Stacey waved a nonchalant hand in their direction.

I looked over and saw Dave’s tongue slither into the girl’s mouth. I felt nothing but revulsion and disgust, mixed with a slight hint of “thank goodness it’s not me”.

And yet, I couldn’t help myself.

“We certainly don’t, do we, babe?” I placed a hand tentatively on Lachlan’s shoulder, and looked at him out from under my lashes with what I hoped was bedroom eyes, and not desperate, crazy woman ones. I felt Dave’s gaze from the other side of the table.

“Not at all.” Lachlan broke into an easy grin and leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine.

I focused on the table below, then pulled away jerkily, hoping Dave hadn’t noticed my adverse reaction. Having Lachlan so close, his eyes close to my eyes, his lips close to my lips—it was all too much.

“I don’t know how you do it.” Dave sauntered back over to our side of the table, sliding in a little too close to Lachlan’s personal space for my liking. “You know; put up with all that shit.”

“What are we all going to order?” I lifted my menu.
Please Dave
, I silently begged.
Please don’t go where I think you’re going to go.

“I mean, you must have a really easy-going family.” Dave tossed his head back and laughed, like it was the funniest joke in the world.

No.

Please, stop.

My mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish. I didn’t want Lachlan to know; not like this. I was sure he’d guessed something was up with Dad, but I didn’t want to tell him everything, not until I knew if I had it, too.

“I mean, how would your family react if your girlfriend’s dad was going crazy?”

The words were far too loud. Not only did our table fall silent, but several around it did, too. I slumped back in my seat.

“He’s not crazy.” My words were quiet. Too quiet.

“You should have seen him at our graduation. Rocking up drunk, embarrassing the school. And you know what they say: like father, like daughter …” Dave raised his brows in my direction, then took a swig of Lachlan’s beer, setting it back down in front of him. “Thanks, man.”

I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t think. All I could see was the jigsaw puzzle of my life falling to pieces.

“A hereditary disease? You’re one helluva guy for sticking around for that.” Dave rested back in the chair.

The pain in my lungs expanded as they waited for me to draw breath. My bones were stuck in place. I couldn’t look at anyone, at anything. My mind had left my body and was hovering somewhere above it, watching on like a rubber-necker at a car wreck. It was ruined.

Everything was ruined.

My heart slowly sliced itself in two.

"Excuse me, guys, I'm just ducking to the ladies room.” I stood up and squeezed past Lachlan and Dave, not noticing how my legs brushed theirs, how the silence was still resting over the table, how Stacey’s eyes were burning with anger and her mouth not yet moving.

I didn’t care about any of it.

I didn’t care at all.

I ran out of the restaurant, and across the street to the public bathrooms we’d been in earlier, desperate to be alone. Mud splashed up my ankles and onto my skirt, and I didn’t care one little bit that I was getting my new dress dirty. Nothing mattered anymore. A tiny tear snuck its way out of the corner of my eye and I bit my lip, furious with myself for being so weak, for even caring at all.

“You would have had to tell him anyway,” I whispered, as I punched my fist into the toilet door. The skin broke, and angry red blood smarted my knuckles.

I would have had to tell him, but I wouldn’t have had to tell him now.

Waves of emotion made my chest shudder as I felt the pain sluice through my body, as if each pump of my heart helped the misery of my life flow till I was sad and heavy from my forehead to my feet.

I stared at myself in the mirror, balancing my clutch delicately on the edge of the stainless steel sink. My brown hair was still pulled back, little tendrils of it curling up and breaking profile in the heat. My face looked pale, my lips almost white.