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“Of course not.”
“Had that happened, it still would not have been as embarrassing as the time you and Hadley did that God awful dance routine in Year Five,” I said, and she burst out into laughter which made me fight a smile. “I swear, I still have nightmares about it. The colours, the total cheesiness, not to mention the hair. What nancy arse band did you decide you were going to dance with?”
“Big Time Rush,” she laughed. “We were going to go to the US and be their backup dancers, be on the show and be super famous.”
“Shame about the fact you couldn’t sing or dance.”
Her laugh was stifled as she buried her face in her knees. It was impossible for me not to be humoured myself. She finally snuck a look at me and I didn’t hate it.
“The point was we were having fun. Besides, you can accomplish anything with your best friend beside you.”
“Ah, yes. The infamously inseparable duo of Piper and Hadley. Padley if you will. Or, perhaps Hadler?”
A completely undignified laugh escaped her and she leant on my arm as she laughed. The contact was…not unwelcome. “Not funny,” she laughed, belying her words totally.
“Your guffawing would suggest otherwise.”
She looked at me with a face so severe, I found that almost as amusing as her giggling. We looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, and she started laughing again. I felt a crooked half-smile take over my face and knew I needed to get some control over myself.
“So if Hadley wasn’t in Melbourne, what would you two be up to tonight?” I asked.
Something about that had obviously been the wrong thing to say. She dropped back onto the blanket with a huff. “She’d be at the party, and I’d still be here.”
I snubbed my butt in the sand beside me and lay down next to her. “You still wouldn’t have gone?”
As she shrugged, her shoulder bumped mine. “I doubt it. Put in one appearance, it’s all good.”
“And she would have just let you sit here alone, being lonely?”
She rearranged like it gave her permission to be honest. “She wouldn’t have had any reason not to go.”
Ah. Now I saw why she’d wriggled. She had needed permission to say that. As close and she and Hadley were, she hadn’t told Hadley the things that she’d told me that night.
“She doesn’t know,” I said slowly.
She took a deep breath. “About what?” she asked off-handedly, like I hadn’t just figured out Little Miss Popular’s deep, dark secret.
I chuckled. “Oh no, you can’t play that card now, Barlow. We’re baring our souls here tonight.”
I was gratified when she replied, “Fine. No, she doesn’t know I get a little…”
“Funky?” I suggested.
Her shoulder bumped mine again but I was pretty sure it was intentional that time, so I bumped it right back. “Yeah. Funky,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I guess I don’t want to worry her. I don’t think she’ll understand. I don’t really want to have to explain myself to her when she doesn’t get it but tries to. The idea of talking to her about it is almost more stressful than the feeling.”
“Huh. I guess that makes sense.”
“You either don’t actually want to listen to my issues, or you don’t need to ask about them because you already understand…”
There was no single way in all of hell that I would admit that maybe I did understand the feeling. For starters, that would require me acknowledging that there was anything wrong with me, and I was fucking fantastic.
But I didn’t want to push her out of the moment.
“Could it be, Barlow, that I do want to listen – that I understand just enough to sympathise – but that I also just don’t want to push you further than you’re willing to go?”
