‘Ohmygod, I knew it!’ She slaps her hand against the countertop. ‘He is such a muppet. I told him, Steffi. Like, so many freaking times.’
Told him what? I want to ask. Come on, words.
‘He likes you, OK? Like, really likes you. He thinks you’re . . . you know. Sunshine.’
Sunshine.
‘And I said to him – ages ago, Steffi! – that he should tell you straight off that him and me aren’t together, in case you thought we were. Because we’ve been friends for freaking donkey’s years and so if you didn’t know us you might look at his Facebook and think we were together or something, even though, ew, he’s like my brother, seriously never. But he was all, oh, I can’t just tell her that, it’ll make it so obvious that I like her, and what if she doesn’t like me, blah blah blah. I mean, as if. Who wouldn’t like Rhys, right? He’s freaking awesome.’
Obvious that I like her.
‘He wanted you to ask him, like the little wuss he is, and I said to him, this is on you, dude, but he never listens to me. Boys, you know?’
I nod.
‘So obviously you never asked him, and he never told you, so all this time you’ve just been thinking that – Wait.’ She stops herself abruptly, and actually puts her hand up as if she’s interrupting me. She looks at me. ‘You do like him, right?’
My face flames with the fire of a thousand suns.
‘Ohmygod, please say you do, otherwise I’ve made a gigantic prat of myself.’ Her eyes are wide and anxious, but more in an excitable way than a Steffi kind of way. She softens a little, her voice quietening. ‘I was so sure that you did, from what he’s told me. Do you?’
I want to say, Ohmygod, yes. I like him so much. I might even love him. Does he really like me back? Does he does he? Really?
I nod.
Meg lets out a happy shriek that makes me literally jump, but she barely notices as she’s already jumping off the counter and throwing her arms around me.
‘I knew it!’ she practically yells, right into my ear. ‘Yay!’ She actually says ‘yay’. I kind of love her too. Especially when she lets me go and apologizes immediately. ‘Sorry, that was over-the-line touching. I get huggy when I’m excited.’
I smile. ‘That’s OK.’ Words! Actual words! Out of my mouth!
‘Oh good! Rhys tells me I’m like an octopus when it comes to hugs. Like I’ve got too many arms. Where was I? Oh yeah! Boys being wusses. So Rhys has been a big wimp, but that’s cos he likes you, I swear. He’s not usually like that. Like, he’s very protective of people he cares about. I’d trust him with my whole life. So. You see?’ She beams at me, slightly breathless from all her talking. ‘I’m definitely, definitely not with Rhys.’
Meg is not with Rhys. Rhys is not with Meg. My head spins. I am giddy and terrified and excited and sick.
Rhys likes me. Me!
When I get back to the table, I find I can’t look Rhys in the eye, but from my very careful sideways glances I see him sending panicked looks Meg’s way. She is smiling serenely, refusing to meet his gaze.
‘You’re just in time,’ Sandra says to me, smiling. I stop trying to not look at Rhys and see the group of waiters approaching with a candlelit birthday cake. They start to sing when they get within a couple of metres of the table and everyone in the restaurant turns to watch and smile.
If this was happening to me on my birthday, I’d be horrified, but because it’s Rhys I find myself grinning along with everyone else when he pretends to sink in his seat and put his hands over his face. While the waiters sing, his family sign the words and I join in.
Rhys cuts the cake and begins dividing it carefully into equal pieces. The waiter sets a stack of small plates next to him. ‘Eighteen!’ he says. ‘Welcome to adulthood.’ But he’s standing slightly behind Rhys, so he doesn’t get a response.
‘Thank you,’ Rhys’s mother says smoothly, smiling. ‘I can’t quite believe he’s a man.’
Rhys’s dad claps him on the shoulder, beaming, and Rhys looks up with the smile of someone who knows he’s missed the conversation but doesn’t mind. He lifts the first plate of cake and passes it across the table to me. When our eyes meet, his smile broadens, just slightly; his nose crinkles, a dimple appears. My heart fizzes.
He likes me, I think. I smile back. He likes me.
Can I walk you home?
Rhys and I are standing outside the restaurant and I am still in the act of pulling my arms through my coat sleeves. Meg has already gone home so it is just us and his family left. I hesitate, thinking about my plan to call Dad so he could pick me up. Are you sure? It’s about half an hour.
I don’t mind. Unless . . . unless you mind?
I shake my head quickly.
For a second we both look at each other. OK, he says eventually, smiling a little nervously. He does a little hop-step over to his mother, has a quick conversation and comes back over to me, smiling. Lead the way. He makes a sign I don’t recognize.
What was that?
Rhys pauses, looking caught. Is he blushing? It’s your name.