The Trouble With Flirting (19 page)

“Yes, but the lady over there just yelled at me because I told her we can’t make chicken noodle soup without the chicken, so I thought I’d hide here for a few minutes while she cools down.”

“Customers are weird,” Adam says, shaking his head.

“Tell me about it.” Hugo turns to me and says, “So. Open mic night tomorrow, Livi. You coming? Ow!” He groans in pain and glares at Adam. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Don’t pressure Livi.”

Hugo lets out a pained moan-laugh. “That is so not why you kicked me.”

I look back and forth between them, pretty sure I’ve missed something. “Yes, I’ll probably be here. But if you were hoping I’ll get up on stage and sing, you’re going to be disappointed.”

He smirks at me. “If everything works out, no one will be going home disappointed tomorrow night.”

“What do you—”

“Hugo, you should probably start hunting for chicken-less chicken noodle soup before that woman gets you fired,” Adam says loudly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hugo stands. “You kids enjoy your
homework
.”

“Hey, we’re studying in
style
,” Adam calls after Hugo. He picks up his rum and coke. “Aren’t we, Livi.”

“Absolutely.” I lift my wine and clink it against his glass.

“And we have the next season of
The Big Bang Theory
to look forward to when we get back.”

“Ooh, yes. Whatever will we do when we’ve watched every episode available?”

“Hmm.
Firefly
?
Star Trek
?
Stargate SG-1
?”

“Or
Stargate Atlantis
or
Stargate Universe
.”

“Or
Battlestar Galactica
.”

“Basically,” I say, “we have a lot of ‘star’ options. I think we’ll be fine.”

“We’ll definitely be fine.” Adam pushes his glasses up and starts typing again.

“Ooh, want to hear something funny?” I say, looking for any distraction from my work and suddenly remembering my conversation with Salima yesterday.

“No.” Adam continues tapping away. “I’d rather you tell me something really depressing so I’ll end up crying.”

“Okay, so I made a new friend—this girl from Durban who’s in most of my classes—and it turns out she knows you.
And
she totally blushed when I spoke about you. I think she has a crush on you.”

Adam looks up, suddenly a whole lot more interested in me than his coding. “Oh. What’s her name?”

“Salima. She’s doing one of your computer science courses as an elective.”

“Oh, yes, I know her. She doesn’t interact much with anyone else, but we had to do a tutorial together once.”

“Well, you obviously made an impression.”

Adam nods. “Maybe I did. Hmm. She’s pretty.”

I shrug. “I guess she is.” I wink at him. “Maybe you should ask her out.”

He leans back and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it up. “You think I should ask another girl out?”

“Um, yes. I mean, unless it’s too soon after Jenna.”

“No, no, that’s …” The tops of his ears turn red. “I think I’ve moved on.”

“Okay.” I pick up a pen and tap it against my notebook. This conversation feels weird all of a sudden.

“So … you’d be fine with me dating someone else?”

“Sure,” I say, although I’m starting to think it might not be fine. I give my brain a few moments to imagine it—Adam’s door shut with him and another girl behind it. Giggling and … other stuff—before deciding that it’s definitely not fine. Flip, that would actually be really awkward. What if she stayed over? I’d have to smile and be all friendly in the morning, and I could never go into his room without wondering what they did in there. I’d never be able to just hang out with him watching TV series because this other girl wouldn’t understand and she’d get jealous.

Other girl? This is
Salima
we’re talking about. She’s probably sworn off boys until she’s graduated, got a job, and been promoted at least once.

“You know, she might be anti-dating, now that I think about,” I say. “Her parents are super controlling slave drivers.”

Adam laughs. “Well, there’s no harm in trying, right?”

“Right.” I smile, but I have the weirdest feeling that it isn’t right. In fact, for reasons I don’t want to examine too closely, it somehow feels very, very wrong.

After five episodes of
The Big Bang Theory
, I should be ready to fall asleep, but my tired brain keeps trying to figure out what’s wrong with the idea of Adam dating someone. I didn’t have a problem when it was Jenna, but perhaps that’s because she was on the other side of the country, not in the room across the passage threatening my friendship with Adam.

Maybe that’s what I’m worried about. Our friendship and how it will change once he has a girlfriend to spend all his free time with. But I wasn’t exactly concerned about our friendship when I was chasing after Jackson, so I need to stop being selfish and let Adam do the same thing. With a girl. Not with Jackson, obviously.
Ugh, stupid brain, where do you come up with these things?

I turn over yet again and pull the duvet up to my neck. Where was I? Oh yes. I’m being selfish.
STOP BEING SELFISH, ALIVIA. Let Adam be happy with whomever he wants to be happy with.

Wow. My brain just said ‘whomever.’

***

Thanks to the maps app on my phone, I’m almost at the block of flats Salima mentioned she lives in. She never gave me her phone number, so this visit is unannounced, but it’s probably easier to talk her into taking a night off in person than it would be over the phone.

Oh, who am I kidding. There is
no
possible scenario in which it will be easy for me to convince her to take a night off.

After instructing myself to let Adam be happy with whomever he wants to be happy with, I decided to give him a chance to do just that by bringing Salima to
Jazzy Beanbag
for open mic night tonight. I’m almost completely certain she’ll say no if he asks her out, regardless of how she feels about him, and I’m trying really hard not to be relieved by that thought.

I WILL NOT BE SELFISH!

I park as close as I can get to the block of flats and walk across the road to the pedestrian entrance with the keypad. I raise my finger and—
Hang on.
She never actually mentioned which number she’s in.
Shoot.
I didn’t really think this through properly. I bite my lip and stare up at the building. She did say she lives at the very top, because that means fewer people walking past her flat and disturbing her—her parents’ logic—but that still doesn’t help me with what number to punch into the keypad.

Click.

The noise comes from the locking mechanism of the gate just as a young guy hurries out of the building and down the path towards me. I push the gate open, smile at him as he passes, and walk through.
I’m in! Yes!
Once inside the building, I wait for the lift, then hit the button for the highest floor. I sing softly to myself—a song that was just on the radio—as the lift creaks slowly all the way to the top of the building. I hope there aren’t too many flats up there. And I hope they have windows I can somehow see into, so I don’t have to knock on every door. Come to think of it, though, how am I supposed to recognise the inside of her flat even if I can—

“Livi?” The lift doors are open and Salima is standing in front of me, a handbag over her shoulder and a set of keys in her hand.

“Um. Hi?” I give her a small wave.

She leans into the lift, grabs my arm, and pulls me out. “What are you doing here? I didn’t tell you where I live.”

“You did actually mention the name of this block of flats,” I say. “Also, I am totally not a stalker. I just wanted to ask if you want to hang out this evening at
Jazzy Beanbag
—it’s this really chilled cafe—and I don’t have your number, so I couldn’t phone you, and this block is only, like, five minutes from where I live.”

She blinks. “You want me to go out somewhere with you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a school night,” she says automatically, then shakes her head. “I mean, you know, a varsity night. We have classes in the morning.”

I cross my arms. “Looks like you were already on your way out somewhere.”

A puff of air escapes her lips. “I was just going to get some dinner. I don’t have time to cook anything because I’m too busy studying.”

“Weeeeell, how about you get dinner with me?”

“You’re starting to sound like a stalker.”

“I just want to be friends!”

“You’re coming across as desperate.”

“Perhaps I just really want to be friends with
you
. You should be flattered.”

“I told you I don’t need any friends, Livi. My parents warned me about people like you. People who would try to tempt me away from my studies. People who could end up ruining me.”

I groan. “I swear I am not out to ruin you, Salima. I thought it would be fun to relax for the evening at
Jazzy Beanbag
, eat some good food, clap for all the awful singers brave enough to get on stage for open mic night, and go to bed early enough to be fresh for lectures in the morning. Oh, and Adam will be there. He can fix your phone and you guys can … chat.”

Salima purses her lips.

“Okay, how about this?” I say. “You go back into your hermit hole now and work really hard, then meet me at
Jazzy Beanbag
at, say, 8 pm. Look it up. It’s easy to find. We’ll order some food, and once we’re done, you can leave. See? Early school night.”

She narrows her eyes. “I sense you’re making fun of me.”

“Only a little,” I say. “And it doesn’t count, since we’re friends.”

Her eyes widen. “We are not friends.”

I walk back into the lift—there obviously aren’t too many people coming and going on a Sunday evening, since the doors never closed—and hit the number zero. “See you there,
friend
.” I smile and wave as the doors close.

***

“Why do you keep looking out the window?” Hugo asks. “You’re making me anxious.”

I’m sitting at a table with Adam, Hugo, and another drummer girl he appears to have a crush on but who is, fortunately, not Pixie. “I’m waiting for a friend,” I say.

Adam looks around. He’s been distracted all evening by the people up on stage, but apparently this is important enough to pay attention to. “Who?” he asks.

“My hot date. Biker dude with tattoos. He’s bringing his electric guitar for open mic night.”

Adam loses some of the colour in his cheeks.

“You know I’m joking, right? I’m waiting for Salima. So actually,” I add with a smile, “it could be
your
hot date we’re waiting for.”

Adam sighs and turns back to face the stage while Hugo shakes his head and laughs. “Come on, man. Livi organised a date for you. You should be happy.” His words are followed closely by a muffled groan of pain, which I’m guessing is a result of Adam kicking him under the table again.

“You guys need to grow up,” Drummer Girl says, but she’s smiling, so I take it she’s not as moody as Pixie.

“I’m going to wait outside,” I say, standing up. Salima should have been here fifteen minutes ago. Perhaps she’s bailed on me. I
knew
I should have coaxed her phone number out of her.

I pace the sidewalk, rubbing my hands up and down my arms to try and get rid of the goosebumps. It’s warm inside
Jazzy Beanbag
, and I left my jersey hanging over the back of my chair. I’m about to head back inside to fetch it when I car door slams and I turn around to see Salima walking towards me.

“You’re late,” I say.

She stops as her gaze travels down and up again. “Don’t you ever dress sensibly, Livi?”

“Stop judging,” I say, looking down at my short dress. “Okay, so it’s not exactly appropriate for a winter’s-almost-here night, but I’ve got long boots on. And it’s warm in there.” I point defensively behind me.

“I’m sure.” She sniffs and walks past me. “If you get sick, it’s your own fault.”

“You sound like my mom,” I grumble.

“And I’m only staying until nine. Bed time is nine thirty.”

“Now you
really
sound like my mom.” I hurry after her. Warm air rushes over me as we enter
Jazzy Beanbag
, a welcome relief from the chill outside. “Over there,” I say, pointing to Hugo and Drummer Girl, whose name I should have found out before I put myself in a situation where I have to introduce her to someone. Adam’s gone—probably to the bar to get another drink. He seems to be throwing the rum and coke back a little faster tonight than normal.

Hugo introduces himself and his date Lainey, saving me from having to embarrass myself. I sit down, and Salima takes Adam’s vacated seat next to me. She removes her jacket, arranges it neatly on her lap, then she looks up and squints at the stage. “Is that Adam?”

I look across the room, and my breath escapes me in a whoosh of air. It is Adam on the stage. And he’s standing in front of a microphone holding a guitar.