Safety in the Friendzone Page 4

  The panic I felt was real. And I wasn’t quite sure why. I needed to cover to the best of my ability.

  “My crush!” was what I chose to zero in on. I was regretting it madly while furiously trying to come up with answers to any possible questions I knew he was about to ask me. “Yes. It was my crush. He walked in and sent me mad with desire.”

  Zane smirked like he was going to joke about it being him. But he didn’t. Not entirely. “Oh yeah. Because it looked like you were staring at me.” He turned to look behind him as he leant on the table next to us. “Who is it?”

  My spit stumbled a little into my wind pipe as I swallowed. My eyes teared up and my cough reflex spluttered to life loudly enough that most of the people in the library turned to look at me.

  “Wow. You like the guy so much you’d rather die than tell me who it is?” he asked.

  I shook my head. It was virtually impossible to talk after my body had made a storm in a teacup out of a minor inconvenience. Instead of words, I pointed behind him. Which actually turned out in my favour, because I didn’t have to know who any of them were.

  “Who?” Zane asked again as he followed my waywardly pointing finger. “Lincoln?”

  I shook my head wildly. Definitely not him.

  “Fred?”

  God, no. Not Fred. Another definite head-shake.

  “Brock?”

  I shook my head less certainly. I didn’t know Brock.

  “The guy with the red hair?”

  He’d do. I didn’t know him so bets were that Zane didn’t know him either. I nodded.

  “That’s Brock.”

  Shit.

  I cleared my throat one last time and rasped, “I don’t know him.”

  “Then how are you crushing on him?”

  I gave him my fiercest tear-laden stare. “I don’t need to know a guy’s name to be into him.”

  “Why don’t you go and say hi to him with that super sexy husky thing you’ve got going on?”

  I frowned at him. “I need to get back to work. And you have a class to get to if I’m not mistaken.”

  We both looked over at his teacher, who had her arms crossed and was looking like she was waiting for Zane to re-join the rest of class. Zane just gave her a nod in acknowledgement and turned back to me.

  “You really don’t know Brock?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you. Don’t know him. Barely knew he existed.”

  “But you’re crushing on him?” Zane was all confusion and I didn’t blame him.

  Shit. “Yes! What I mean is… The name Brock. I don’t know that. That that was he. He was him.” My eyes narrowed in thought now. “I didn’t know there was a Brock in our year to know his name was Brock…” That sounded right.

  Thankfully, Zane didn’t disagree with me. “Fair enough.” He opened his mouth again and I stopped him.

  “Do not say anything more. I don’t need you making me more nervous about it.”

  I felt a little guilty about how easy it was to lean into the lie. But what else was I going to do? Admit I had been staring at him and never live it down? No way. That wasn’t going to happen. All I was doing was avoiding awkwardness. There wasn’t anything wrong with that…aside from the whole lying to him thing.

  But it was just a white lie.

  What was a little white lie now and then?

  A terrible idea, is what.

  Because it all came back to bite me in the ‘behindus’ – another of our things – later that day when Zane fell into step with me.

  “So, I’ve been thinking about your crush,” he said.

  “My what?” I asked him, having completely forgotten about the whole thing.

  “Your crush on Brock?”

  I choked on my Coke. “Sorry. What on who?”

  Zane paused so I stopped to look at him. “You said earlier. In the library. You said you had a crush on Brock.”

  It all came flooding back. “Oh. Uh. Yeah, totally,” I scoffed self-assuredly. “I definitely have a crush on Brock. I just…don’t like to go broadcasting it around.”

  He nodded. “You haven’t told Jett or Penny.”

  Sure. We’d go with that. “Why do you assume that?”

  “Because you always tell me everything first.”

  “Do I?” I challenged.

  “Who’s the one who knows about your crush? Huh?”

  I nodded. I would give him that to hopefully spare me too much more conversation about it. “The defence rests.”

  “Thank you. Now, I have some ideas for you.”

  “Why do I already hate what you’re about to say?”

  “Because you know I’m right. And you hate it when I’m right,” he said as he started walking again.

  He had ideas about what exactly? Me having a crush on him? What I was going to do about said crush? Perhaps the wedding linen? It was going to be easier to deal with it now and hope he got bored of it.

  I sighed and hurried to catch up to him. “For argument’s sake, give me your ideas.”

  “Okay. Operation Date Brock is–”

  “Not a thing that’s going to happen,” I told him.

  “What? Why? You’re crushing on the guy. Don’t you want to date him?”

  Well, no. But I couldn’t exactly tell him that. “Can’t I just worship him from afar?”

  “No. We need to get you some action.”

  “I don’t need any action. I’m quite happy with my current level of…inaction?” That didn’t sound right.

  “Regardless, I have a plan.”

  “A plan?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I’m going to befriend him and discover all his secrets.”

  “So, you can date him?”

  “So, you can date him.”

  “What do you care?”

  “I care because I’m just that nice a guy, Char. I befriend Brock, tell you his secrets and, voila, you are perfect girlfriend material.”

  “I don’t want to be perfect girlfriend material. If I was going to date…anyone, I’d quite like to just be me.”

  “How’s that getting laid thing going for you?”

  “I could ask you the same thing, Mr Bigshot.”

  “The point is, I’m not completely celibate.”

  “I’m not celibate!”

  “By choice.”

  “Why are you so into me hooking up with someone?”

  “I… What?” he scoffed. “I’m not. I mean, I’m just a concerned friend.”

  I nodded. “No, yeah. Sure. My sex life is none of your business.”

  “I never said it was!” he said quickly.

  “Then stop trying to hook me up with people.”

  “I’m just trying to help.”

  “I don’t need you to…run interference or whatever.”

  “At least let me try and work out what he likes. Then you’ll know if you stand a chance.”

  If I didn’t give him this, he was certainly not going to get bored and move on with both our lives.

  I sighed. “Fine. Fine! Get to know him, then.”

  Zane pumped his fist. “Yes. You will not regret this!”

  He went jogging off before I could say anything. Which was probably not a terrible idea in hindsight. Who knew what I’d have come out with had he stayed? I knew I was going to regret it, though. That was already painfully obvious.

  Chapter 6: Zane

  Charley had a crush.

  Cool. Cool.

  Good.

  No. Good.

  Brock.

  I didn’t know him that well, but he seemed a decent dude. He was on the Footy Firsts team, not overly intense, good enough at schoolwork to keep his place on the team, and always gave me a smile in the corridor. All in all, he had the makings of a top bloke.

  Out of all the guys Charley could be crushing on, he was one of the better options.

  And it was good that she had a crush
.

  It was.

  It meant she was off the market – she was interested in someone else and therefore unavailable to whatever ridiculous notions had decided to skim through my head lately. Helping her with said crush had the benefit of keeping me busy. No time to wonder about Charley if I was helping her get another guy. So, it was win-win. No more weird moments and no time to wonder about them.

  I was feeling pretty good about this.

  All I had to do was get to know Brock better. So, how do you go about befriending your best friend’s crush? Well, it’s pretty easy when you’re me. I go up to a person and say hi. Then, after usually a few awkward starts, they say hi back and conversation ensues. I did it all the time. Except something was holding me back from a thing I was well-practised in.

  When Brock walked into the Common Room that Recess, I looked over at Charley. She looked up like she knew I was looking. Her eyes darted to Brock, then back to me, and I just knew she could read my mind. I grinned and she shook her head.

  Do it and I’ll kill you, I knew she was thinking.

  What if he’s the answer to soothing those homicidal tendencies of yours? my eyes replied.

  Don’t be ridiculous, hers said.

  Big strong man like him. Obligatory eyebrow waggle. Go talk to him.

  I’m fine, thanks.

  You sure you’re not just chicken shit?

  I’m braver than you, little man.

  Then go and talk to him.

  How about you go and die. Please and thank you.

  I snorted a laugh.

  “You okay, mate?” Bleeker asked.

  I pressed my lips together for a moment and pulled my eyes off Charley. “Me? Yep. All good.”

  “What are you making moony eyes at Baines for?”

  I lay my hand over my mouth and huffed a breath. “I wasn’t doing anything,” I said, totally believably.

  “You guys were having, like, some sort of silent conversation.”

  I shook my head. “No, we weren’t.”

  Bleeker nodded with a smirk. “You totally were. You sure you’re not… What’s it called?”

  “Telepathic,” Harvey answered.

  “You sure you two aren’t like…secretly going at it?” Jory asked, ignoring Harvey.

  I coughed. “What? No! We’ve just known each other forever.”

  “Or you just want to bone each other.”

  I huffed a laugh. Only it wasn’t very believable. Which was weird. “Charley? No.”

  The whole Brock thing was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them that she had a crush on another guy anyway. I did the next best thing. After all, befriending Brock was the whole point of my new quest.

  “What do you guys know about Brock?” I asked.

  Bleeker looked up at him across the Common Room. “Not much. Seems all right.”

  “He’s a Power fan,” Harvey said.

  “Ooo…” we all chorused, looking at Brock again.

  Port Power were rarely the popular South Aussie footy team in our circles. Unfortunate, but Charley didn’t much care for football anyway.

  “Can’t hold that against a bloke.”

  “Can,” Bleeker said.

  “Don’t have to,” I amended.

  Bleeker nodded to me. “Maybe not.”

  “We could forgive him that,” Jory said slowly.

  “Why do we need to forgive him anything?” Bleeker asked.

  I shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. “I dunno. It’s our last year. Might be nice to leave this place with a few more mates?”

  “How far is this going? You going to invite Simpson over for a sleepover and offer to braid his hair?”

  I laughed. “‘Course not. I just didn’t think it would kill a guy to talk to Brock more often.”

  “Why? You got a crush on him?” Bleeker sniggered and shared a fist-bump with Jory.

  Now was the perfect time to mention Charley was the one with a crush on him. Bleeker would instantly get off my back about it – although then promptly get on my back about me trying to hook Charley up with a guy. Still, it would have been a better option. So, did I just tell him the facts? No.

  “Jesus, I thought the guy could get an invite to your party. If I knew you were gonna make a thing of it, I wouldn’t have bothered bringing it up,” I chuckled.

  “Oh, the more the merrier, mate,” Bleeker said, clapping me on the back. “You know me. Besides, once the girls hear he’s coming? They’ll be begging for an invite.”

  “Oi, Bleek…” I started.

  “What?”

  “You ever thought that, if you want the chicks there, you could just invite them?”

  “And not get to enjoy my power?” he asked, dumb-founded. “Why would I want that?”

  I shrugged. “Dunno. You make a good point.”

  “Right?” he chuckled, holding his hand for a fist bump.

  As I met his fist with mine, my eyes wandered over to Charley again.

  I watched her eyebrow rise and she shook her head.

  Well, at least you’re distracted, I could imagine her saying.

  Not for long. I waggled my eyebrows at her again.

  There was a small smirk on her face, but most of it was just trying to express her displeasure at whatever she thought Bleeker and I were celebrating.

  You don’t even know what it is, my eyes told her.

  I don’t have to, to know it’s idiotic, hers replied.

  I smiled at her and turned back to the boys. Having conversations across a room with Charley wasn’t being distracted behaviour. I was supposed to be befriending Brock to help her, not sharing secrets with her.

  Chapter 7: Charley

  So, I’d been in such a panic that I might have been looking somewhat like I had a thing for Zane that I faked a crush on a guy who’s name I barely remembered. And Zane hadn’t got bored yet. Much to my annoyance.

  It was not going the way I’d hoped.

  And Saturday, it got worse.

  Zane had spent the rest of the week ‘befriending’ Whatever-his-name-is. He was finding out all the gossip on Thingamy-gig’s previous girlfriends as well as his favourite movies, past times, and general likes and dislikes.

  “But all, like, on the downlow,” Zane assured me.

  I nodded. “No doubt.”

  “I still think a makeover’s in order, though.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because you…” He paused, quite rightly.

  “You might wanna be careful how you finish that sentence, Zane Lindon.”

  He nodded as he tried to suppress a smile. “I might. I was going to say that one can always look one’s best.”

  “And you happen to know what my best is, do you?”

  “I know what teenage boys think is best.”

  I crossed my arms and glared at him. “And why should I have to change who I am just to get a guy to like me?”

  Zane opened and closed his mouth. “Okay…” he said finally. “I can see what you mean. But… Hear me out! What’s the harm in…dressing up a little? Highlighting your best assets…?”

  “You’re talking about my boobs now.”

  “Or lack thereof.” His eyes darted down to my chest.

  “If you weren’t technically correct, I’d hit you for that.”

  He shrugged, a goofy grin on his face. “The best kind of correct. Now, are you going to let me do this makeover or what?”

  “Like for like, Lindon.”

  “What?” he scoffed, full of bravado. “I don’t need a makeover!”

  “Let me spruce up your wardrobe and maybe you’ll attract a girl with half a brain.”

  “Brains aren’t a requirement.”

  “Of course not. The less talking, the better, right?”

  He looked at me like he was trying to decide if that was a trick question or not. His eyes narrowed and his mo
uth scrunched to the side.

  “Ye-es…?” he replied uncertainly.

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course.”

  “Okay. Okay. Tit for tat–”

  “You just wanted to say ‘tit’.”

  He beamed. “I did. But the point’s the same regardless. I’ll let you make me over. Although, how can you mess with perfection?” He ran his hands down, indicating his body.

  “I can quite easily mess with that,” I replied as I picked up my keys.

  “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  I rolled my eyes again. “Are you at least driving?” I liked driving. I hated parking.

  “Would you like me to?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I will.”

  I followed him out of the house, through his and out to his car. His parents had bought it for him when he got his P’s because his older sister had refused to share the one bought with the intention that they’d share.

  When we got to Town, Zane spent forever zipping up the carpark to the very top floor. His excuse was it was easier to get an empty spot up there, and that he enjoyed swinging around the exit lanes on the way out. I always firmly believed he just didn’t want to admit her hated parking as much as I did and knew the likelihood of getting a space with empty spaces either side was better up there.

  “Where do you want to start?” he asked as we got in the lift.

  “We’re here. May as well start here.”

  He nodded. “Target it is.” It was always pronounced ‘Tarjay’ with an affected fake French accent, because Australia.

  Target started out relatively sensible. He found me a couple of nice tops and some jeans that were supposed to show off my arse. I found him some licensed t-shirts to sneak out from under his open button up shirts.

  K-mart started veering into the ridiculous when he found some interesting shoes that I’d never wear even as a joke.

  And everything devolved from there.

  By the time we got to Myer, we were only pretending to be serious about this makeover business. Thankfully, they had one of their huge sales on and the top floor was all discounted clothes for every shopper.

  I rifled through the racks for the most hideous items of clothing I could find. On the other side of the walkway, I saw Zane was doing the same thing. I watched him and the look of utter concentration on his face. Something about the way he bit his lip and narrowed his eyes made him look older, like somehow the shadows fell just right to hide the remnants of his puppy fat, making him look more chiselled, more grown up, more manly.