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“What about brains?” I ask. “What if you married some Albert Einstein dude and he passed down superhuman intelligence to your kids. I think that’d be more advantageous than being attractive.”
“Blah blah blah, whatever,” Cleo says, reaching for the sake and pouring everyone another cup. “There are other reasons I want a hot husband, though. Everyone wants to be with someone hot. Everyone would be jealous of me. And, if he’s easy on the eyes, I’ll probably be less likely to murder him when he forgets to do the dishes.”
Lucas chuckles, and Cleo blushes, smiling at him shyly, her eyes warm.
I pour myself another cup of sake.
*
On the street in front of the restaurant, Lucas and I send Cleo home in an Uber. She waves and blows kisses through the window, and we watch as the car turns the corner.
“Alright,” Lucas says, turning to me. “Time to get home.”
“Mm.” I don’t think I’m capable of speaking full words. The three of us drunk enough to litter the table with sake bottles. Cleo got loud enough to get us kicked out of the restaurant for being too noisy. Even Lucas looks more drunk than I’ve ever seen him before. His usually graceful strides are ever so slightly uneven, and he’s smiling more than usual. I don’t think he’s ever smiled so much around me. Usually, his expressions are more controlled.
Somehow, the two of us stumble onto a tram and manage to look somewhat sober by keeping quiet. I close my eyes and listen to the city noises around me. The chimes of the tram, the whoosh of cars passing by, shouts of pedestrians walking the streets. Construction noises from far, far away.
This is the most intoxicated I’ve ever been. I didn’t even get this drunk in high school. In fact, I barely drank alcohol in high school because that usually happens at parties, and I was almost never invited to parties.
The tram turns a corner, and the sudden motion makes me slide down my seat, crashing right into Lucas. I blink a few times, then realise I’m smushed against his chest. “S—sorry,” I mumble, slowly peeling myself off.
“S’okay,” he says. He’s still wearing that ever present, almost creepy because of how easy it is, smile. “You can rest, if you want.”
“Kay,” I say. “Thanks.”
I must have fallen asleep against the heartbeat in his chest, but it feels like only seconds have passed when he wakes me up and takes my wrist to lead me down the tram steps onto the road. We check for oncoming traffic, then run across the bitumen to our apartment building.
In the elevator, we slump against the walls. I look up and see him watching me, and then suddenly we’re laughing, even though nothing’s particularly funny. This is weird. I feel weird. Not exactly good, but I don’t feel stressed anymore. I don’t even care that Lucas made Cleo blush at dinner. Anyone at the receiving end of Lucas’s gaze would blush. I would blush.
The elevator doors open, and Lucas takes my hand, leading me down the hallway so fast I have to run to catch up, the two of us laughing so loud I’m sure our neighbours can hear us.
Nope. I’m not disappointed at all.
“Ice-cream,” I say once we’re inside our apartment.
“You want ice-cream?”
Lucas looks so clear in front of me. The coppery brown of his hair is bright, the blue in his eyes overpowering the grey. His teeth are blinding white. I almost never see his teeth because he smiles so rarely, and when he does, it’s usually a closed mouth smirk. He should smile like this more.
“Yes,” I reply. “Do we have some?”
“You bought some when you made pancakes for Cleo,” Lucas replies, walking to the fridge and dramatically opening the freezer door.
“Oh, yeah.” I haul myself onto the kitchen bench, my legs hanging over the edge.
Lucas takes the ice-cream out and fishes for two spoons from a drawer. He hands me one and settles between my legs, flinging off the ice-cream tub lid. We dig in, and as soon as Lucas takes his first mouthful, he lets out a moan.
I may be drunk, but that sound still makes my heart rate spike. “That good?” I ask. “That must be the first unhealthy thing you’ve consumed in what, a week?”
“Alcohol’s unhealthy.”
“Right.” I think that over while I suck ice-cream off my spoon. “I didn’t think you’d drink so much tonight. You barely ever drink.”
“I drank sometimes in high school.” Lucas offers me the tub, and in doing so, he moves closer, his hips brushing against my inner thighs. I can feel his body heat. He’s warmer than usual, probably because of the alcohol.
He smells good. Not like sake, but his usual deodorant and tropical flower shampoo.
“Do you remember the party at the end of Year 11?”
