Safety in the Friendzone Page 6

  “On the topic of sucks–”

  “This oughta be good,” I muttered.

  “Why is it I’m always the one coming to you to hang out?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, like, I’m always the one visiting.”

  I snorted. “It’s not my fault you’re so co-dependant you end up crawling in my window before I’ve even had a chance to think about coming to see you.”

  “I’m not co-dependant. You’re co-dependant!”

  I shrugged as we walked into the kitchen. Brendan was in there with all his bowls and containers spread across the kitchen counter.

  “Oi, oi. Chef’s at it again,” Zane teased and Brendan look up with a smile.

  “My baker hat’s on tonight, mate.”

  Zane leant on the kitchen counter and nodded. “Cooking up anything for growing young boys?”

  Brandan looked Zane over and I was sure he didn’t believe a word of it. “Only bakers are eaters, kids.”

  Brendan was the baker in both our households. By that, I meant that he baked at our house and then sent half of everything home with Zane. When we were six, I’d complained about not having enough leftovers and Brendan had started doubling his recipes. We’d stopped wanting to help him create the deliciousness and just eat it for a good few years.

  “Am I five?” I asked him.

  Brendan shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. I just…bake them.”

  Zane snorted and I rolled my eyes.

  “Good one, Bren,” Zane laughed. “Dad jokes on point.”

  “Thanks, mate. You sure you kids don’t want to help?”

  I didn’t have anything against helping Brendan in the kitchen – at some point I’d have to become an adult and cook for myself, so it was all good practise. But I had serious doubts that Mr Cool was into baking with his neighbour’s stepdad.

  I opened my mouth to tell Brendan as much, in more polite words, when Zane beat me to it.

  “Oh, yeah. We weren’t doing anything, were we, Char?” Zane said, completely surprising the hell out of me.

  He’d teased me like not a month earlier when I’d told him that I’d helped Brendan make the brownies I’d been charged with taking over to the Lindons’. Not all of the brownies made it. But I’d destroyed all evidence, so I didn’t think anyone was any the wiser about the situation.

  Brendan was also, understandably, surprised. “Really?”

  Zane nodded and pulled himself to standing. “Really. Why not?”

  “Because you’ve said no for about five years straight?” Brendan said, but he was smiling so I knew he understood that teenagers just kinda sucked sometimes.

  Zane looked at me in surprised. “What? That doesn’t sound right.”

  I nodded. “We have been utter shits.”

  “We haven’t?” Zane gasped.

  I laughed as Brendan smiled.

  “We knew it was coming,” he told Zane. “I think you’re supposed to be shit now until you’re like mid-twenties…maybe even thirty?”

  “And you signed up for this?” Zane asked, acting dumbfounded.

  “As a parent, you just kind of accept that your kids will be shit for a while. It’s just a whole thing.”

  “Why do you put up with it?” I asked.

  Brendan shrugged. “Oh, I dunno. I guess we’re paying it forward, you know. We were shit to our parents for a while. We can hardly complain. It’ll be your turn if you two decide to have kids.”

  “We’re not…” both Zane and I said at the same time.

  I looked at him quickly. His eyes were wide as he stared at me.

  “Got some news to share, kids?” Brendan meant it teasing, but it had my heart hammering in my chest.

  Zane and I babbled at the same time.

  “What?”

  “No!”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “We wouldn’t…”

  “We’re not…”

  “What?”

  “Bloody hell,” Brendan laughed. “I meant in general. I didn’t mean you were having them together. Jesus, you two. You’d think the world was gonna end if you two had a kid together!”

  I laughed, but it felt forced.

  “No. Of course,” Zane chuckled. He looked at me. “He didn’t mean…”

  I shook my head. “No. That’d be ridiculous.”

  It would, wouldn’t it? Me and Zane. Little versions of us running around. Doing the whole family thing with him. That’d just be…weird. Right? Super weird. Weirder than me half-entertaining a semi-thought that there could be a spark between us.

  Yeah. Totally.

  “Shall we do some baking?” Brendan asked loudly, bringing me back to the present.

  I nodded quickly. “Yes.”

  “Definitely.”

  “What are we making?” I asked as Zane passed me an apron.

  “We’re practising danishes for Mum’s party,” Brendan answered.

  “Oh, sweet. Berry?” Zane asked with a grin.

  Brendan nodded. “Berry and citrus.”

  “Mandarin?” I asked.

  “If you want. As long as we do blueberry and lemon, Mum’ll be happy.”

  “Okay, what do you need us to do?”

  Brendan directed us around, making sure we worked quickly so the butter didn’t melt too much. There was a lot of flour going around to prevent sticking. It was also great fun for throwing at people.

  “Oi!” Zane spluttered, looking up at me.

  Half his face was covered in flour as he glared at me. I shrugged innocently.

  “Oh, you’re getting it now!” he said with a mischievous grin.

  He picked up a handful of flour and I squealed as I tried to dodge it. Most of it hit me, but the rest of it splattered across the kitchen.

  “Oi!” Zane cried. “Unfair!”

  “Unfair?” I laughed. “How is that unfair?”

  “You dodged.”

  I nodded. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

  “You didn’t give me time!”

  “It is not my fault you go through life unwary of attack.”

  “Oh,” Zane snorted. “Like you’re always totally prepared.”

  “I am.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “You want to put that to the test?”

  I narrowed my eyes in challenge. “I’m ready for you, Lindon.”

  “Game on, Baines.”

  Zane picked up some more flour and tossed it at me and that was the beginning of all-out war. All powdered baking ingredients were fair game. There was an instance where an egg was threatened, but then we’d decided that was against the spirit of the thing as we chased each other around the kitchen throwing food at each other.

  As I turned, I slipped on a patch of flour and Zane tried to catch me. We went down in a jumble of arms and legs and laughter.

  “Brendan is going to kill us for this mess,” Zane laughed.

  I nodded as I tried to catch my breath. “Where did he go?”

  “I suspect he decided to avoid the war zone.”

  “Smart.”

  We looked at each other, the warm smile I felt on my face mirrored on his. He brushed a finger down my cheek.

  “You are covered in flour,” he chuckled.

  “I doubt I’m half as bad as you,” I said.

  He shook his head as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll pay that bet.”

  He lay his cheek against mine and snapped a pic of us, then brought the phone down so we could see it.

  I laughed at the two of us. Covered in flour and grinning like idiots.

  “Send that to me?” I asked, disentangling myself from him to haul myself up.

  “Done. What are you doing?”

  “Figured we should probably tidy up a bit.”

  Zane looked around, his smile growing as he took in the utter havoc we�
��d wreaked.

  “Yeah, good point.” He held his hands out and I helped pull him to standing. “This place looks like it’s snowed.”

  “Snowed cocaine maybe.”

  Zane laughed as he helped himself to the cleaning stuff under the sink. “Lot of experience with that?”

  “Oh, you know me. When I’m not busy with schoolwork, I’m growing my cocaine empire.”

  He snorted. “Definitely. You’ve stretched all the way to… Where now?”

  “I’ve got to Rostrevor, but they’ve got their own people that are making it hard to push forward anymore.”

  “Oh, a turf war!”

  I chuckled. “You gonna back me?”

  “Always!”

  “You two done already?”

  We looked to Brendan.

  “Where did you disappear to?” Zane asked him.

  “I said you were avoiding the warzone,” I told him.

  Brendan’s face got this weird soft smile on it as he looked at us. “Oh, you know. I thought I’d leave you to it. Didn’t want to get in the way of you two…having some fun.”

  The way he said was weird – like he knew something we didn’t – but I didn’t have time to dwell on it as Zane said, “You want to help us clean up our mess?”

  Brendan laughed. “No. You two are on your own.”

  “We’ll get it spotless again,” I promised him.

  He nodded, “I know,” and left us to it.

  Chapter 10: Zane

  I’d got Brock invited to Bleeker’s party. That was step one. And it was so far going well.

  He was fitting in well. Not that I’d have called Bleeker’s party a particularly exclusive one, and the guest list reflected that. It was basically whoever Bleeker had enthusiastically invited on the spur of any moment, in addition to the core Pops.

  People wandered around, chatting and yelling and laughing. Some were drinking, some weren’t. Some were dancing, some weren’t. Some were hooking up, some weren’t. But everyone was having a good time.

  Thea was there with her new boyfriend. I saw them engaged in some overly-enthusiastic vertical dry-humping. I almost suggested they get a room. Had it been anyone else, I would have. But I knew Thea and she’d think it was proof I was pining after her. And I wasn’t. I wasn’t even lying to myself this time. When I saw them, I felt nothing but the normal amusement I felt at anyone else in that situation…as well as a weird urge to talk to Charley.

  Instead of calling Charley, I focussed on my promise to her.

  Find out more about Brock.

  On the surface, I couldn’t see what the two of them had in common.

  Brock needed a tutor in every subject just to get a C average. Charley was one of the smartest kids in our school and rolled her eyes at the smallest suggestion of ignorance.

  Brock didn’t watch any movie without a half-naked girl in it. Charley didn’t care how naked anyone got as long as there weren’t any structural inconsistencies.

  Brock was living life large, soaking up being in the spotlight. Charley’s dream was sitting at home and not having to deal with the greater human population. If there were a hoard of cats and dogs, then all the better. Naturally, Brock was allergic to all fur.

  But otherwise, he seemed like a decent guy.

  I guess.

  He had the whole party in stitches as he regaled them with some story from footy training. Girls giggled super obviously – like Jesus, just throw yourselves at him already. The guys all nodded in agreement with whatever came out of his mouth. He never missed a beat, everyone liked him, and he even had fake modesty down.

  Someone that apparently perfect? He had to be hiding something.

  He wasn’t even that great.

  In fact, he was kind of annoying.

  His laugh was too loud.

  He was so self-centred that he just kept talking while everyone fawned all over him, no matter if anyone else had anything to say.

  He was too tall. Like, was it really necessary to be seventeen and over six foot? Who even was that tall? Other than Jett…

  His hair was too shiny. And not greasy shiny, but like lustrous shiny. Charley assured me only the most pedantic of haircare routines achieved such radiant results.

  And he was handsome. Why was he so handsome? No one needed to be that handsome. There had to be enough subjectivity in the world that he didn’t need to be objectively handsome.

  But I kept all that to myself.

  I laughed as loud as the rest. Grinning in approval when Brock looked at me as Jory clapped Brock on the back. I lifted my beer to Brock and nodded.

  Yep. Great joke. Well done. You could totally be one of us.

  Gag me.

  Brock wasn’t even that funny.

  And what kind of name was Brock anyway?

  The stupid kind, that’s what.

  Brock.

  It screamed douche.

  No self-respecting dude let people call him Brock. He shortened it. Or went with whatever nickname had stuck in junior school. His last name was Davidson. Davo at the very least. I mean, come on. It wasn’t that hard; Australians made nicknames out of everything and the old shorten the word and add an ‘o’ thing was our default. It never failed to meet approval.

  Unlike Brock.

  “Stupid name,” I muttered.

  “What, mate?” Bleeker asked, nudging me.

  I looked at him and tried to think of anything I could have been thinking about other than how stupid Brock’s name was. I looked at the beer in my hand.

  “Moo Brew,” I said and held it out to him, hoping that covered it.

  He frowned. “Moo Brew? What’s wrong with Moo Brew?” He looked at his own can in confusion.

  I could get into this. I hoped. “I mean, I can understand if it was Roo Brew, right? But Moo Brew? What’s that mean?”

  “Why would Roo Brew make more sense?”

  “Well, it’s more Aussie.”

  Bleeker nodded. “Not wrong. Isn’t it German, though?”

  “I thought it was done here?”

  “Where’s it from?” he asked, peering at the can.

  I shrugged and had a look at my own can. “Tassie, I think.”

  “Yeah. Says there.”

  We banged heads as we tried to look at the same can, then laughed.

  But as much as I could just talk about whatever with the boys, I never felt quite right. I never felt quite… Whole was the wankiest word ever. But it was kinda like that. I felt like something was missing. Something that had me making excuses and pushing outside, had my phone in my hand as I took a sip of my delicious if lost opportunity named Moo Brew.

  “You’ve reached the den of inequity. How may I direct your call?” was how she chose to answer the phone.

  “Hey, hey Charley!” I said with a chuckle.

  “I hope you didn’t drive,” was her sardonic reply.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Eden volunteered to pick me up.”

  “You mean your parents volunteered her?”

  “That one.”

  “Don’t you have a party to wow?” She sounded busy but was obviously not busy enough to tell me she was busy. “What are you doing calling me?”

  “I was thinking of you.”

  “You were?” I didn’t know why she sounded so surprised. I thought about her a lot.

  I nodded. “I was.”

  “What made you think of me?”

  I had no idea. The usual things. That would sound stupid to say though. “Brock’s here.”

  “Who?”

  “Brock.”

  There was a pause. “Oh, right yeah. Brock. How is…Brock?”

  “He’s…” a total goober, way too shallow and arrogant, and not good enough for you… “good. The boys think he’s hilarious.”

  “A glowing recommendation, by all accounts.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

  I was grinning like an idiot
. “What about my recommendation?”

  “What about it?”

  “Does it count?”

  “Does it count after I already told you I like him?” she scoffed.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Girls like being validated right?”

  Charley snorted. “I’m going to give you a pass on that one because you’re drunk and I have to hope you don’t actually mean it.”

  “No!” I cried. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Really?” she teased. “What did you mean then?”

  “I just meant that people – all people – like their friends to…like their crushes or whatever, right? Tell the truth?”

  She chuckled. “Is that why you always tell me my boyfriends are shit.”

  “I care!”

  “You’re nosey. You’ve never once cared what I thought about any of your girlfriends.”

  I paused. “That’s not true. I wanted your opinion on… Liv!”

  “You wanted to know if I thought, and I quote, ‘if even the dweebs thought she was easy’. You then asked me if I thought she’d sleep with you.”

  “See, I cared!”

  “About you.” She said it gently. She wasn’t pissed off with me. Yet.

  “I care about you.”

  “I know. I care about you, too, dude.”

  “Yeah. But I, like…love you,” I said solemnly, then realised way too late what I’d actually said.

  It was a good thing Charley didn’t say anything for a while because it gave me time to try to come up with a backpedal. Not that I should need to backpedal. It wasn’t the first time I’d told Charley I loved her. It was maybe the first time I’d just come out and said it, I couldn’t remember. But it was definitely the first time I’d felt like I needed to justify it, and I wasn’t sure why.

  I cleared my throat and looked around the party to see if anyone might have heard me. “…as a friend. I love you…as a friend.”

  It felt weird to say. It felt contrived to say. It felt stupid to say. But it was true.

  I cleared my throat again. “You know.”

  I heard her clearing her throat as well. “Mm hmm. Yeah, no. I know.”

  “‘Cos you’re like a sister to me. Right? But I actually like you.” I huffed a laugh.

  Oh, my God. Dude, shut the hell up right now!

  But, for whatever reason, my mouth was just going for it. It was a constant scramble to fix a situation that hadn’t even needed fixing in the first place. I was allowed to love her, for cripe’s sake. I knew I’d had a few beers, but this was ridiculous.