Lobsters (8 page)

‘Freddie will be heartbroken that he's been replaced by someone else.'

Even though she had already heard the whole Toilet Boy story from Tilly, I told it again. It seemed even more romantic now. We went over the Ribena exchange. His old white T-shirt and battered trainers and how he looked like a beatnik poet.

‘I am totally in on the quest to find Toilet Boy.' Stella said. ‘One hundred per cent in. I'm going to dedicate my life to it, in fact.' There was a pause. ‘Hang on, I'm putting you on speakerphone. I'm writing him on the door to make it official. What colour do you want?'

‘But we don't know his name.'

‘I'm just writing Toilet Boy. I'll write it in black. Because he is
obvs your lobster, and black is classic and doesn't date.'

‘He probably didn't even like me, though. Honestly, Stell, he was so fit.'

Stella responded to this concern in song form. ‘You're insecure/Don't know what for/Right now I'm writing Toilet Boy on the do-or-or …'

‘Stell!'

‘Don't need make-up/To cover up/Toilet Boy on the door is en-ou-ou-gh …'

‘Stop singing!' I screamed.

But she was away. Freddie was forgotten. In the memory bin with all the other boys we've been obsessed with and get hysterical over if we ever see them by accident on the bus.

‘Where is Toilet Boy?' I asked. ‘Where have you written him?'

‘Over Freddie. Freddie was so a life-phase, not a life-stage.' That is a classic Stella thing to say. As if she is a therapist letting you in on the fact she always knew how things were going to turn out.

‘Yeah,' I said. ‘Toilet Boy is the future.'

‘Definitely. Listen, are you busy tonight? You've got to help me.' Stella didn't usually admit she might need assistance with anything.

‘Well, I'm supposed to have dinner with my family but—'

‘Cool, well basically, we're meeting these two random boys tonight.'

‘WHAT?' Boys were suddenly popping up with no appropriate warning. Where had they all been for the last five years when we were actively hunting them?

‘I got off with this random boy last night,' she said.

‘What? What happened with Charlie?'

‘Nothing. We're both free to see other people.' The tone of her voice altered slightly, as if she was repeating something he had said to her. No one else would have picked up the hurt, but I could hear it.

‘Are you OK, Stell?' I said softly. I felt sad for her because when she gets off with someone who isn't Charlie, it's usually just to cover up how much she likes him.

Stella sighed, pretending to be bored by the whole conversation. ‘Yeah, I'm fine. It just pisses me off. He was the one who was acting like we should be exclusive and then last night he was all like, “Oh, I'm seeing this girl from uni. I don't know if we should be doing this.” So I was like, “Fine, fuck you”, and I went off and had a bit of fun on my own.'

‘OK,' I said. ‘What was this bit of fun called?'

‘He's called Sam. And, well, I can't really remember anything else about him except that he was wearing this cool, red Kanye West T-shirt.'

Poor bloke, I thought. Totally unaware he was just another pawn in Stella and Charlie's never-ending game of fuck buddy chess.

‘So, why are you meeting up with him?' I asked.

‘Because Charlie's being a dick and I just want him to know what he's missing, that's all. So, I arranged for us to go for a drink with Sam and one of his mates.'

‘And how is that going to teach Charlie a lesson? Are we going to live stream this double date or something?'

‘No, we're meeting the boys in the café opposite Westfield cinema.'

That was where Charlie worked during the holidays.

‘Are you being serious, Stell?' I said. ‘So, you're going to sit there and flirt with this random bloke while Charlie watches?'

‘No. Well … yeah maybe,' she said.

‘Yeah, but why do I need to come too? This is clearly going to be so awkward. And, anyway, I thought we'd just established that I should focus my energies on finding Toilet Boy?'

‘Hannah, be realistic. There are a lot of boys in the world. Obviously, Toilet Boy is your lobster, but equally, you probably won't ever see him again.'

‘Great, thanks, Stell. For someone whose favourite film is
Dirty Dancing
you're not exactly giving true love a chance.'

Stella laughed. ‘Look, Hannah, it's one hour of your life and I'm your best friend. Just come along and help me out. You never know, his mate might look like Channing Tatum.'

‘Urgh', I said. ‘I hate Channing Tatum. He looks like the missing link.'

‘Oh god,' groaned Stella. ‘Well, OK, Oscar Wilde, then.'

‘
Oscar Wilde
? Stell, do you even know who Oscar Wilde is?'

‘That boy you love. The one you always go on about.'

‘Yeah, I love his
books
. And he's not a boy, he's a man who's been dead for about a hundred years.'

‘Whatever. Either way, you're just there to help me out. If you don't fancy Sam's friend, we can always say you've got a boyfriend, or something.'

It was done. We were going. She was already talking outfits.

‘I need to go shopping for a whole new wardrobe before Kavos. I wonder if my dress is still in that shop,' she said.

That was my moment. To make up a lie and say my nan had bought it for me as a surprise. To tell her it was sitting in a bag at the end of my bed. But I didn't. The chance to make it right swam past and all I said was,

‘Yeah, that dress is so amazing.'

‘I know,' Stella said. ‘OK, see you outside Westfield at ten to seven.'

This was crazy. Why was I going on a blind date when all I wanted to do was find Toilet Boy?

5

Sam

Me and Robin both agreed that the café opposite the popcorn counter in Westfield cinema was a pretty weird place to arrange a double date. But then when a girl like Stella tells you to be at the café opposite the popcorn counter in Westfield cinema, you don't ask questions. You just go to the café opposite the popcorn counter in Westfield cinema.

Robin, for all his apparent dedication to playing it cool and not coming across as a ‘desperate freak', had insisted we arrive early, so we could settle in and formulate a proper ‘game plan'.

So, at 6.45 p.m. we sat in the café opposite the popcorn counter at Westfield cinema, waiting for Stella and her mate. Robin picked at a raspberry and white chocolate muffin while he checked his reflection in the back of a teaspoon.

‘How can you possibly tell whether you look all right by doing that?' I asked. ‘Your reflection's all mangled and tiny.'

He looked up. ‘I've looked in enough teaspoons in my time to know whether this mangled and tiny reflection is a good one.'

‘And is it?'

He checked again. ‘Yes.'

‘You could just ask me if you look all right.'

Robin snorted. ‘You're
clearly
not qualified to say whether or not someone looks all right. If you were, you wouldn't have worn that shirt.'

I looked down at my shirt. It was light blue, from Gap. You couldn't find a less offensive shirt if you tried.

‘What's wrong with my shirt? You couldn't find a less offensive shirt if you tried.'

‘Exactly,' said Robin, waving his teaspoon at me. ‘You're playing it safe. Light blue. Boring and safe. This is a first date. You need to shock her. You need to show her you're an unpredictable, crazy, exciting guy.'

‘But I'm not an unpredictable, crazy, exciting guy.'

Robin sighed. ‘I realize that. I am well aware of that. But
she
doesn't need to know that, does she?'

‘You can hardly talk about being unpredictable, crazy and exciting when you're wearing a plain grey hoodie.'

‘Oh, really?' Robin smirked. ‘Is that so?' He unzipped his hoodie to reveal a T-shirt with the slogan ‘FBI – FEMALE BODY INSPECTOR' on it.

‘Oh my god,' I said.

Robin beamed proudly down at his chest. ‘I bought it last week. It's good, isn't it?'

‘No, it's not good. It's literally the least good thing I've ever seen.'

‘It says “unpredictable, crazy and exciting”.'

‘If it said that it would be fine. But what it actually says is “Female Body Inspector”.' I reached over and zipped up his hoodie. ‘Just keep that done up. Even if we end up going to a
sauna, I want you to keep that hoodie on.'

Robin unzipped it again. ‘We're hardly likely to end up in a sauna with these girls when you're wearing such boring clothes. Look, Sam, as the only person here who has actually had actual sex with an actual girl, I think I'm more qualified to say what will or won't turn a woman on. And this,' – he indicated his T-shirt – ‘is basically a one-way ticket to a lady's bedroom.'

‘A lady who can't read, presumably.'

‘Whatever.' He glanced into the teaspoon again. ‘Oh, fuck this, I need a proper mirror.' He jumped out of his seat and headed towards the toilets.

Left alone, I started to daydream about how the date might go. I tried to conjure a few possible conversation topics in my head, but I kept drawing blanks. This was largely because I knew literally nothing about Stella (except that she had a James Bond villain bathroom and she loved throwing parties), and thus I had no idea what she'd want to talk about.

It sounds weird but I couldn't even really remember what she looked like. I knew she was really hot – mainly because Robin had been reminding me every fifteen seconds – but when I actually tried to picture her face in any sort of detail, I couldn't do it. Whereas every freckle and dimple of Ribena Girl's was still imprinted on my mind in HD.

It seemed ridiculous to be thinking about Ribena Girl this much. I guess, for her, that ten minutes in the bathroom had just been a weird stopgap between going to the toilet and getting ‘jiggy' on a trampoline with a twat called Freddie. But I couldn't help it. I wanted to see her again. So badly.

I made a mental note to stop calling her Ribena Girl, though, as it made her sound like a crap superhero.

Robin returned from inspecting his reflection and plonked himself back into his chair.

‘I just got a text from Ben,' he said. ‘He's DJ'ing tonight at a club in Camden. We should have a few drinks here then head there with the girls.'

‘I'm not sure …'

Robin groaned. ‘What's there to not be sure about?'

‘Well, firstly, we might not get in. Secondly, if Stella sees me dance then any chance I've got with her will immediately go out the window. I look like I'm having a very polite epileptic fit.'

Robin groaned, louder this time. ‘You don't
dance
at clubs, Sam. Only idiots
dance
at clubs.'

‘What do you do, then?'

‘You stand around the DJ booth and nod your head.'

‘Sounds rubbish.'

‘Well, it's not. Seriously, if I see you dancing instead of nodding at Woodland Festival, I'm going to ditch you. I'm telling you now out of courtesy.'

‘Thanks, man.'

‘This is what you get for spending all your summers in … What's that stupid place you go with your mum and dad? That stupid island?'

‘Sark.'

‘Yeah. You better get all your uncoolness out of your system when you're there next week, so you don't show me up at Woodland.'

I glanced at the clock above the popcorn counter. Stella was now two minutes late. ‘Let's just hope she actually turns up, first of all,' I said, ‘before we start making plans to go to clubbing with her afterwards.'

‘She'll be here,' said Robin. But he didn't sound one hundred per cent confident.

‘You might not even want to go clubbing with them. What happens if you don't fancy Stella's mate?'

Robin chewed his bottom lip. ‘Good point. Maybe we should establish some sort of code, so I can let you know whether or not I want to make the move.'

‘Oh, god. Do we
really
need to establish a code? Isn't this going to be stressful enough without throwing a
code
into the mix?'

‘No, come on. It'll be fun,' said Robin, re-examining his chin in the teaspoon. ‘How else are you going to know if I think Stella's mate is fit?'

‘Because I'll also think she's fit. I've got eyes as well, Robin.'

Robin exhaled loudly through his nostrils. ‘Sam. Come on now. Seriously. You told me in Year 10 that you quite fancied that Art teacher, Mrs Flynn.'

I wrinkled my forehead, offended. ‘She's all right.'

‘She looks like James May from
Top Gear
. So, no, she's not all right, and yes, Sam, yes, we do need a code. How about if I …' He broke off and stared up at the ceiling, spinning the teaspoon between his forefinger and thumb. ‘How about if I tug my right eyebrow three times, like this.'

He tugged at his right eyebrow violently.

‘That looks like you're having a seizure.'

‘OK …' More staring at the ceiling and spoon-spinning. ‘Tell you what, when the waiter comes round, if I fancy Stella's mate, I'll order a lemonade. If I
don't
fancy her, I'll order a Coke. Cool?'

I sighed and glanced at the clock again. Five past seven. ‘Yeah, whatever, cool. And cover that T-shirt up.'

‘Fine.' Robin reluctantly zipped up his hoodie. ‘But if I sense they're getting bored or restless at any point, I'm unzipping it. And remember, lemonade means I'm up for it, Coke means she's a munter.'

‘Yes, Robin. Understood.'

Suddenly, we caught sight of Stella. She was marching up the escalator, grinning broadly and wearing a bright red, strappy top that showed off her ridiculously tanned shoulders. Even thirty metres away she still looked hot.

Robin gawped at her. ‘Even if her mate is half as fit, I'll be ordering lemonade,' he muttered.

Stella's mate was about three steps behind Stella on the escalator. Me and Robin watched her emerge – first head, then shoulders, then body …

At first I thought it was my mind (or my long-outdated contact lens prescription) playing tricks on me. I figured that, because I had just been thinking about Ribena Girl, I was actually imagining her too. But as she got closer to our table, it became clear that this was not me going mental. Ribena Girl was here. She was Stella's friend. She was Robin's date. My heart started trying to punch its way out of my chest.

‘Hi!' Stella beamed down at us as she and Ribena Girl arrived at our table.

My brain was still too busy trying to process Ribena Girl's presence to respond. What the hell was she doing here? Apparently not content with spending last night fondling Freddie on a trampoline, she was also partial to the odd double date too.

Ribena Girl looked just as shocked as I was. She had turned redder than Stella's top and she hadn't closed her mouth since she materialized at the top of the escalator. She looked completely mortified. And, I couldn't help thinking despite my blinding bewilderment, really pretty. Even prettier than in the bathroom. She was wearing a thin, white cotton top and faded blue jeans. I tried desperately to catch her eye, but she seemed extremely interested in the carpet pattern.

Robin only let about two seconds go by before he jumped in and responded to Stella's greeting for me. Robin is not one for an awkward silence.

‘Hi! You all right?' he offered. ‘I'm Robin.' He tried to kiss her on both cheeks, but she pulled back after only one, leaving him hanging awkwardly in the air for a moment, with his lips still pouted.

‘Sorry!' He laughed nervously.

Ribena Girl and I locked eyes for a split second. If this hadn't been potentially the most awkward and confusing moment of my life, I would have burst out laughing. I was sure I saw a flash of a smile across her face, too.

‘Erm … cool,' said Stella, plonking herself down on a chair and shooting me a wide, toothy smile. ‘Hi, Sam. How are you?'

I finally found my voice, quivering behind my tonsils.

‘Hey. Good, thanks,' I said, sounding slightly more high-pitched than I would have liked.

‘This is my friend, Hannah,' Stella said, pulling The Girl Formerly Known As Ribena down into the chair next to her.

‘Hi, Hannah, you all right?' said Robin, raising one hand in salute. He'd clearly decided non-contact greetings were the way forward after the two-kiss fiasco.

Hannah cleared her throat. ‘Erm … yeah,' she croaked. There was a pause, and then she looked down at the carpet again.

Stella was clearly unhappy with this as her dating partner's opening conversational gambit.

‘Don't mind Hannah,' she said, looking as if
she
minded Hannah quite a lot. ‘She's just kind of … kooky.'

I was thankful for Robin's flawless social skills, because I was still unable to do anything more than blush and try to make eye contact with Hannah, while he took charge of the conversation for all of us.

‘Wicked party last night, Stella,' he said. ‘I mean, seriously – in the top ten parties I've been to. And we've been to some serious belters, haven't we, Sam?'

‘Yeah,' I said, almost on autopilot. ‘Serious belters, yeah.'

‘Did you have fun last night, Sam?' Stella asked me, cocking her head to one side and smiling. I noticed her eyes dart quickly to the left and right of me.

‘Yeah,' I nodded, struggling to take my eyes off Hannah. ‘It was great.'

A waiter approached the table. ‘Can I get you some drinks, guys?' he said.

‘Skinny latte for me,' smiled Stella.

‘The same, please,' muttered Hannah.

‘And you gentlemen?' said the waiter, turning to Robin and me.