A Life Less Average

ten

poppy

The bar was unusually empty for a Friday night.

Faye and I had turned up just after eight, when the band playing would typically be starting their set. We walked across the dance floor without bumping into anyone and stood against the wooden bar while we waited to be served.

The usual dance floor was mostly clear, but the tables at the back were full of couples and small groups sharing pitchers of watered down cocktails. The lights were dim enough that everybody looked good, and the music was just loud enough to make you shout.

We were usually fighting for a chance to be seen by the bartender, not leaning against the sticky bar, its unfamiliar and gross surface attaching itself to our clothing. I peeled myself away as a guy came towards us. I recognised him from our previous nights here, but I had never been close enough to read the name on his badge. Oliver.

"What can I get you, ladies?" His voice was deep and dreamy.

"Two margaritas and two zombies, please!"

Faye and I bought drinks in twos. It was a routine we had gotten into that meant less trips to the normally busy bar. But as there was hardly anyone here, it didn't seem necessary. Regardless, minutes later we were scoping out the place with our hands full.

We settled into a booth at the back, next to the toilets. The band that was playing had a small crowd bopping in front of them, but they didn't seem to notice the size of the crowd. The size of their enthusiasm was enough.

The music was catchy and went well with the strong drinks Faye and I were sipping our way through. I was dancing in my seat, when Faye looked up at me, her eyes narrowed.

"How's the crush?" Faye asked. I noticed her chest and cheeks were turning red from the alcohol. It was a tell-tale sign that she was tipsy. Not that I needed the sign, she was practically licking the salt off the rim of her margarita glass.

"I don't know what's happening to me," I said, sighing. I had told her about Lewis watching me cross the road from outside the coffee stop. She had laughed at first, but once she had composed herself she had found the strength to call it cute. "Am I just imagining it?"

She shrugged and finished her zombie. She was suddenly filled with alcohol-fueled confidence. "Text him," she said, loudly. "See if he wants to come out tonight! If he says yes then at least you'll know and all this second guessing yourself can stop!"

"No," I said, quietly. "I can't."

"Yes you can!" she shouted. A couple at a nearby table peaked around to see what all the fuss was about but Faye continued. "Poppy. Listen. You're hella cute. And if he turns down the opportunity to come and have some killer drinks with you on a Friday night, he's an idiot. Or he's gay. We haven't ruled out gay yet."

I rolled my eyes. I knew she wouldn't let up until I at least messaged him. But then it hit me. "What if he isn't eighteen yet?" I asked. Faye and I both had September birthdays, which meant that we could saunter past the bouncers with our freshly printed driver's licences. But what if Lewis had a summer birthday and wouldn't be let in?

"He looks old enough. Plus I'm sure he'll have a fake ID. Everybody and their uncle has a fake ID."

"Fine," I said, pulling my phone out and finding his name in my contacts.

Faye was watching over my shoulder as I typed out the message, and nudged me as I hesitated to press send. If the music hadn't been so loud, we would've heard the 'whoosh' of the message disappearing into the air to find his phone.

"Now, don't you feel better?" She leant back into her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. 

"And what if he just doesn't reply?" I asked, placing my phone screen-down on the table in front of me. That was also a possibility.

"He'll reply." She didn't care to explain herself. Instead, she tapped on the table, stood up and stepped across the dance floor. Half way between our table and the bar, she turned back to me. "Believe me, he'll reply." 

I watched her strut towards the bar, her hair bouncing behind her. Faye never had to try to look good. She just always did. She was blessed with clear, caramel skin and hair that just did its own thing. Her big eyes were always emphasised with the fake eyelashes she insisted on wearing, despite her own being long as hell, and her lips were pink and plump. 

I was just the pale, awkward, skinny kid next to Faye. But we had managed to make it work. 

While she ordered more drinks, I picked my phone up and stared at the black screen. This was exactly why I didn't like relationships, or boys. I hated feeling needy, but right now I needed him to reply. It was going to drive me crazy until he did. 

Reply, reply, reply. The screen stayed dark, except for one time when Twitter felt the need to inform me that a stranger I follow had liked somebody's tweet. 

I tucked it angrily back into my bag. A watched pot never boils, I told myself. And a boy who doesn't like you, doesn't text you back.