“How far is this going? You going to invite Simpson over for a sleepover and offer to braid his hair?”
I laughed. “‘Course not. I just didn’t think it would kill a guy to talk to Brock more often.”
“Why? You got a crush on him?” Bleeker sniggered and shared a fist-bump with Jory.
Now was the perfect time to mention Charley was the one with a crush on him. Bleeker would instantly get off my back about it – although then promptly get on my back about me trying to hook Charley up with a guy. Still, it would have been a better option. So, did I just tell him the facts? No.
“Jesus, I thought the guy could get an invite to your party. If I knew you were gonna make a thing of it, I wouldn’t have bothered bringing it up,” I chuckled.
“Oh, the more the merrier, mate,” Bleeker said, clapping me on the back. “You know me. Besides, once the girls hear he’s coming? They’ll be begging for an invite.”
“Oi, Bleek…” I started.
“What?”
“You ever thought that, if you want the chicks there, you could just invite them?”
“And not get to enjoy my power?” he asked, dumb-founded. “Why would I want that?”
I shrugged. “Dunno. You make a good point.”
“Right?” he chuckled, holding his hand for a fist bump.
As I met his fist with mine, my eyes wandered over to Charley again.
I watched her eyebrow rise and she shook her head.
Well, at least you’re distracted, I could imagine her saying.
Not for long. I waggled my eyebrows at her again.
There was a small smirk on her face, but most of it was just trying to express her displeasure at whatever she thought Bleeker and I were celebrating.
You don’t even know what it is, my eyes told her.
I don’t have to, to know it’s idiotic, hers replied.
I smiled at her and turned back to the boys. Having conversations across a room with Charley wasn’t being distracted behaviour. I was supposed to be befriending Brock to help her, not sharing secrets with her.
Chapter 7: Charley
So, I’d been in such a panic that I might have been looking somewhat like I had a thing for Zane that I faked a crush on a guy who’s name I barely remembered. And Zane hadn’t got bored yet. Much to my annoyance.
It was not going the way I’d hoped.
And Saturday, it got worse.
Zane had spent the rest of the week ‘befriending’ Whatever-his-name-is. He was finding out all the gossip on Thingamy-gig’s previous girlfriends as well as his favourite movies, past times, and general likes and dislikes.
“But all, like, on the downlow,” Zane assured me.
I nodded. “No doubt.”
“I still think a makeover’s in order, though.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you…” He paused, quite rightly.
“You might wanna be careful how you finish that sentence, Zane Lindon.”
He nodded as he tried to suppress a smile. “I might. I was going to say that one can always look one’s best.”
“And you happen to know what my best is, do you?”
“I know what teenage boys think is best.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “And why should I have to change who I am just to get a guy to like me?”
Zane opened and closed his mouth. “Okay…” he said finally. “I can see what you mean. But… Hear me out! What’s the harm in…dressing up a little? Highlighting your best assets…?”
“You’re talking about my boobs now.”
“Or lack thereof.” His eyes darted down to my chest.
“If you weren’t technically correct, I’d hit you for that.”
He shrugged, a goofy grin on his face. “The best kind of correct. Now, are you going to let me do this makeover or what?”
“Like for like, Lindon.”
“What?” he scoffed, full of bravado. “I don’t need a makeover!”
“Let me spruce up your wardrobe and maybe you’ll attract a girl with half a brain.”
“Brains aren’t a requirement.”
“Of course not. The less talking, the better, right?”
He looked at me like he was trying to decide if that was a trick question or not. His eyes narrowed and his mouth scrunched to the side.
“Ye-es…?” he replied uncertainly.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course.”
“Okay. Okay. Tit for tat–”
“You just wanted to say ‘tit’.”
He beamed. “I did. But the point’s the same regardless. I’ll let you make me over. Although, how can you mess with perfection?” He ran his hands down, indicating his body.
“I can quite easily mess with that,” I replied as I picked up my keys.
“I love it when you talk dirty.”
I rolled my eyes again. “Are you at least driving?” I liked driving. I hated parking.
“Would you like me to?”
“Of course.”
“Then I will.”
I followed him out of the house, through his and out to his car. His parents had bought it for him when he got his P’s because his older sister had refused to share the one bought with the intention that they’d share.
When we got to Town, Zane spent forever zipping up the carpark to the very top floor. His excuse was it was easier to get an empty spot up there, and that he enjoyed swinging around the exit lanes on the way out. I always firmly believed he just didn’t want to admit her hated parking as much as I did and knew the likelihood of getting a space with empty spaces either side was better up there.
“Where do you want to start?” he asked as we got in the lift.
“We’re here. May as well start here.”
He nodded. “Target it is.” It was always pronounced ‘Tarjay’ with an affected fake French accent, because Australia.
Target started out relatively sensible. He found me a couple of nice tops and some jeans that were supposed to show off my arse. I found him some licensed t-shirts to sneak out from under his open button up shirts.
K-mart started veering into the ridiculous when he found some interesting shoes that I’d never wear even as a joke.
And everything devolved from there.
By the time we got to Myer, we were only pretending to be serious about this makeover business. Thankfully, they had one of their huge sales on and the top floor was all discounted clothes for every shopper.
I rifled through the racks for the most hideous items of clothing I could find. On the other side of the walkway, I saw Zane was doing the same thing. I watched him and the look of utter concentration on his face. Something about the way he bit his lip and narrowed his eyes made him look older, like somehow the shadows fell just right to hide the remnants of his puppy fat, making him look more chiselled, more grown up, more manly.