Four Little Words | ONC2020

13 | dates and devastation

"That's not true. I just don't do dates."

(When called out on prickly stuff by your emotionally astute best friend, I always find it's best to deny, deny, deny).

"Well, you're doing this one. And you're not doing it wearing that," she says, gesturing at my decidedly distressed jeans and off-the-shoulder sweatshirt.

"What's wrong with my outfit?" I ask innocently, though I know exactly why she has a problem with it.

"I am not letting you leave this house with our friend – our friend who has spent the past 24 hours planning a day that's all about things he thinks you'll like – while you are wearing a top that says 'Bite Me' and paint-splattered jeans."

"Party pooper," I mutter under my breath.

Cass gives me a look but says nothing.

"Fine," I finally say. "I'll get changed."

"Good girl," she says, patting me on the cheek as she bounces out my bedroom door. "Call me later and spill all the tea."

She really can be very parental.

Just two friends doing stuff together on a Saturday. Just two friends doing stuff together on a Saturday. Just two friends doing stuff together on a Saturday.

This is the mantra that I repeat over and over in my head as I wait for Trav on the front steps of Flinders Street Station. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. After all, this is a platonic date, not a 'date' date. Just two friends doing stuff together. I don't do romance or relationships or golden boys. I'm not looking to fall in love or to have some boy make my life complete only to have him rip the rug out from under my feet when I least expect it. So, there is absolutely no reason for me to be feeling this jittery. None. Can't think of a single one.

"Hey," my friend says near my right ear and I jump in fright.

"Holy crap, Riordan, you scared me."

"Sorry," he laughs apologetically but his eyes twinkle in a way that makes me think he enjoyed seeing me jump.

I narrow my own eyes at him.

"You did that on purpose."

"Maybe." Another lopsided smile and much eye twinkling. The sun bounces off his golden curls and tanned skin in a way that really annoys me. The group of pretty girls beside us is clearly trying to catch his attention. That annoys me too.

"Prick," I say, with a little too much venom and not nearly enough playful.

"Now, now, that's no way to speak to your platonic date Miss Burton."

"Well, it's how I speak to all my dates so... deal." I shoot daggers at him with my eyes.

In return, he rolls his eyes at me. I really shouldn't have taught him to do that so well.

"Franks, at the risk of getting my head bitten off... do you think you could maybe just relax a bit and holster your weapons? This is just you and me hanging out. It's no different to any morning we've spent together in the library. There's no need to stab me, behead me or take my eye out with your razor-sharp tongue."

I open my mouth, fully prepared to argue with him.

"Francesca..."

"Okay. Fine. I'll try."

"Thank you. Come on, let's show you how to date."

I have very little to compare it to but I have to hand it to Trav – he plans a mean platonic date. First, we play laser tag – an activity he claims he chose in honour of my love of laser pointers and general aggression.