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‘Should I smile, or what?’ I say.

‘Wait. One more second.’ Jesse steps forward again and moves a piece of my hair, pushing it back off my forehead. I don’t like the way his hands on my forehead make me feel. No. That’s not right. I very much like the way it makes me feel but I also don’t like that it makes me feel that. I’m flustered now. I just need him to stay a good metre away from me.

Clearly I need this date. My hormones have gone awry.

‘Look over there and think about Damon Salvatore,’ Jesse says.

His casual little Vampire Diaries reference makes me smile against my will.

‘Got it!’ Harper says, looking over Jesse’s shoulder.

And sure enough, there’s a picture of me, my face thoughtful and smiling, looking not at the camera but somewhere near it. Candid and relaxed. A portrait but not a portrait.

‘Jesse, you did it!’ Harper says. ‘Stunning! I’m sending it to you, Brooke. And you, Pen.’

‘Perfect,’ says Penny, receiving the picture on her phone. ‘I’m sending it to Henry right now.’

Later, in bed, I look at the photo. I do look good. I look like me, in a way that feels personal, vulnerable, honest.

I think about how it felt when Jesse touched my face, the smell of his hoodie, his voice when it was quiet and low, and then I push those thoughts away.

17

I’ve agreed to go on a date with Henry.

Penny passed along my phone number and he and I texted back and forth a little. This is the part I am actually good at, I realise. I can be funny and flirty in words. Impressing someone new via text is a bit like an assignment (in 500 words or less, show how you are perfectly likeable and dateable, using short sentences and answering prompts), and I can rise to the challenge with ease. My body doesn’t matter, what I’m wearing doesn’t matter, the pimple on my forehead doesn’t matter, I can just lie in bed with unwashed hair and no bra and a baggy old top and think up smart and funny things to say. I am so enamoured with how well I’m doing, I forget to pay much attention to his responses. He seems nice. Not funny haha, but amusing. Droll, which is a word I’ve always wanted to use about someone. I expected more from someone who wants to be a comedian but I am also deeply relieved he didn’t make any actual jokes.

We decided to meet for coffee on Saturday, which feels very fast to me. I would prefer a months-long virtual courtship with plenty of time for me to imagine various possible futures for us before I am inevitably disappointed, but Harper and Penny need data for their assignment, so our relationship is on a timeline.

I chatted with Lauren, Mum and Nanna the night before, and I told them I was going on a date.

‘Who with?’ Lauren shrieked with delight. There was far too much surprise in her voice.

‘A blind date? Oh, be careful honey,’ Mum said. ‘Tell us the address of where you’ll be and turn on your phone locator so I can track you.’

The difference in the way Mum treats me when I am going to a cafe in the middle of the day for an hour, compared with how she treats Lauren, who will casually announce she is going to a rave party on a remote farm that belongs to a friend of a friend of a friend and she’s not sure what day she might be home or how she’s getting there, needs to be studied by parenting experts for research papers. Why is she so much stricter and more protective of the responsible child? Is it that, after all we’ve been through, she’s just given up on Lauren and channels all her stress and worry and neurosis into me, the child who can be controlled?

‘If you’d given me more notice, I would have express-posted you my good boots, they’re only a size too small for you, you could have squeezed into them. Now we’re stuck with only your shoes to choose from,’ Lauren said.

‘Remember, whatever happens, you are a beautiful, strong, independent, smart young woman who doesn’t need a man to validate you,’ Mum said.

‘If he asks you to get into a car or go back to his house, say no. It could be an abduction attempt,’ Nanna said.

None of this was helpful.

Now I’m about to leave and Harper is hovering around me.

‘You look great,’ she says, for the tenth time, which makes me think I don’t look great. Once, it is believable, twice, I’m still with you, but this many times and I assume you are telling me the opposite, that there is some obvious thing wrong with my outfit that I’ve missed. I am tempted to run to my bedroom and change again but there’s no time.

Jesse is lying on the couch, typing on his laptop, glasses on. I noticed he’s started wearing them around the house during the day now.

‘I don’t trust guys named Henry,’ he says suddenly, without looking up from the screen.

‘Why?’ Harper says, hands on hips.

‘It’s the kind of name a serial killer would pick if they were trying to sound respectable,’ Jesse says, looking up.

‘You sound like my Nanna,’ I say, turning away from him. I need positive energy.