Lobsters (9 page)

‘I'll have a white coffee, please,' I said.

‘And I will have a
lemonade
,' said Robin slowly, narrowing his eyes at me and nodding, not particularly subtly.

‘We're out of lemonade,' said the waiter. ‘We've got Coke.'

Robin looked nonplussed. ‘Erm … Well, it's just quite important I have a
lemonade
, that's all.'

‘Well, I'm sorry, we've not got any,' said the waiter, impatiently. ‘I could get you a Coke?'

Robin sighed and raised his eyebrows at me. ‘I'll have a Coke, then', he said, still staring at me with his eyebrows raised so high they nearly met his hairline. ‘But I'd like it to be clear that I wanted a
lemonade
. My initial order was
lemonade
.'

‘Right,' said the waiter, rolling his eyes. ‘I'll make sure to note that down.'

He turned and walked off.

‘Wow,' said Stella, looking, understandably, a little confused. ‘You
really
like lemonade.'

‘Yes.' Robin smiled at me and nodded his head. ‘Yes, I do.'

We lapsed into silence, leaving Robin the space to deliver a lengthy monologue outlining his thoughts on the music selection at Stella's party, which basically amounted to ‘It needed more dubstep'.

I couldn't form coherent sentences. I just wanted to talk to Hannah. I wanted ten minutes alone with her to find out what
was going on. Was she with this Freddie knobhead or not?

Clearly unimpressed by my lack of conversational skills, Stella kept glancing over at the popcorn counter, where a lanky, bored-looking bloke with a hipster haircut was dishing out overpriced snacks.

Robin was not having much luck either. Since Hannah didn't appear to have any strong opinions either way about the current state of dubstep, he gave up.

‘Were you there last night, too?' he asked her.

She nodded.

‘Have fun?'

She nodded again.

‘You don't say much, do you?' said Robin.

‘No,' said Hannah. ‘I guess not.'

‘The silent type,' he smirked. ‘I like it. Not to worry, I can do the talking for both of us.'

Hannah laughed uncomfortably. Stella was still gazing at the popcorn counter, with a faint smile on her face. She seemed to have forgotten the three of us were even there.

Robin shuffled his chair slightly closer to Hannah's, making an unholy scraping sound that rang out across the cafe. The noise drew Stella's attention back to the table.

Robin's focus was fixed on Hannah like a laser. He leaned in towards her conspiratorially – a classic Robin move I've watched him perform countless times at countless drunken house parties – and added what he presumably thought was a seductive glaze to his voice.

‘You know, a mate of mine's DJ'ing at a pretty cool club in
Camden later. Maybe we could go and check it out together? Could be fun.'

I winced. It was bad enough watching Freddie hit on Hannah from a distance; seeing my best mate do it right in front of me was something else.

I'm … not sure,' said Hannah, her eyes bulging desperately in Stella's direction. ‘I was supposed to be doing something tonight already, I think.'

Stella nodded and stepped in breezily to grasp the conversational baton.

‘Yeah, erm, to be honest, I think Hannah's meeting someone after this,' she announced. ‘You see, she sort of … hooked up with someone at my party last night.'

‘Oh,' said Robin, visibly crestfallen. ‘Right.'

Hannah fixed her big blue eyes on Stella. ‘Stell, I don't think they want to hear about—'

But Stella had clearly found her stride. Having struggled to get any sort of dialogue from me and Robin that didn't involve either lemonade or dubstep, she seemed quite pleased to be back at the centre of things, fully in control. She shushed Hannah with a flick of her wrist and continued excitedly.

‘Yeah, she got talking to this boy at mine last night, and now she's, like, literally in love with him.'

I felt a thin line of sweat prickle my forehead. We were all going to hear about how much Hannah loved that waistcoated twat, Freddie. I just prayed Stella would miss out the part where Hannah got trapped in the toilet with a weird scruffy bloke with crap shoes.

Stella continued. ‘Yeah, basically, this stunning bloke just appeared in the wet room and they totally had this connection, and it was immense and then he just
disappeared
. Like a boy Cinderella. Toilet Boy Cinderella.'

I blinked. I felt waves of confusion crashing against me.

Hannah tried again to interrupt. ‘Stella, please—'

‘Oh come on, Han!' Stella laughed, waving Hannah's protestations away. ‘They don't care.'

She was in full flow now, dramatic hand gestures accompanying every third or fourth word.

‘She hasn't stopped talking about this boy since. They bonded over hot Ribena, can you believe that?. Well, not literally
over
it – but by talking about it. Isn't that just
too
cute?'

This time, it was me who turned bright red. Not to be outdone, Hannah went a shade darker. I was actually sweating now, and I had to bring my sleeve up to stop the perspiration rolling down my forehead. I went through it again in my mind to make sure I hadn't misunderstood.

Hannah hadn't stopped talking about the boy in the wet room. Hannah was literally in the love with the boy in the wet room. The boy in the wet room. Not the boy on the trampoline. I was the boy in the wet room! I WAS TOILET BOY CINDERELLA! My whole body felt like it was smiling.

Robin was less pleased. ‘Right,' he muttered, shifting his chair back to its original position with another deafening scrape of the floor. ‘Hot Ribena. Wow, I didn't even know that was a thing.' He turned to me. ‘Is hot Ribena a thing?'

I was still desperately trying to catch Hannah's eye but she
wouldn't give up her red-faced stare-off with the carpet. She looked as if she might start crying. I suddenly realized how embarrassing this must be for her. As amazing as the moment was, I wanted it to end.

‘Not many people know about hot Ribena,' I said, quietly. ‘But, yes, it is a thing.'

The waiter arrived and plonked our drinks down. Stella's phone beeped and she pulled it out of her bag to read the message. As she examined the screen, her eyes twinkled, and she glanced eagerly back up at the popcorn counter.

She took one sip of her latte, and stood up abruptly. ‘I'm just going to the loo. Han, do you want to come?' Hannah stood up automatically. ‘We'll just be a sec,' smiled Stella, sweetly.

As they marched off, Robin leaned across and clamped a hand on my shoulder.

‘Look, this clearly isn't going anywhere. My one's quite hot but if she's already obsessed with this wet room Ribena nerd, then I'm wasting my time, aren't I? I say we just fuck it off; make our excuses, and go to Ben's.'

All I could think of was getting Hannah alone. Freddie was out of the picture, and I was Toilet Boy Cinderella. Against all odds, it seemed that a girl I liked
actually
liked me back.

‘Why don't you head off to Ben's?' I suggested. ‘I'll come and meet you afterwards. If these two want to come, I'll bring them along.'

Robin frowned. ‘You sure you don't mind?'

‘No, mate, of course not.'

He shrugged. ‘OK, cool. See you in a bit.'

He sloped off. Halfway across the cafe he stopped and turned back.

‘Sam!' he yelled. ‘If it turns out Hannah was interested, though, you can give her my number.'

I gave him a thumbs-up. He turned around and started walking again. Two steps later he turned back.

‘Sam! Same goes for Stella.'

I shooed him away and watched him disappear down the escalator.

Hannah

I have never been so relieved to walk into a public toilet. I sat on the loo seat for ages, just staring at the cubicle door. I didn't really want to process what had actually just happened. My cheeks ached from burning so much. It felt like I was getting the flu. This was the worst. Worse than Freddie's sick running down my legs. Even worse than the time I got my period on the back of my skirt during the Year 9 production of
Fiddler on the Roof
. There was no getting away from this being the worst thing that had ever happened to me. Literally no getting away. I stayed in the toilet until Stella shouted.

‘Are you having a baby in there, or what?'

When I came out I washed my face to try and cool it down.

‘Are you sick?' Stella did sound a tiny bit concerned.

‘Maybe.'

‘Well you must be because you were acting like a fucking
lunatic out there.' She looked at me for some kind of explanation and then started to rummage through her bag. She found her phone and started texting.

‘I wish you hadn't told them about Toilet Boy.' I tried to make it sound casual.

‘Why not? You clearly aren't into that Robin boy, who by the way is actually quite hot. Anyway, how are we going to find Toilet Boy if we don't actually try and look for him? He's not just going to
appear
in front of us, you know.'

She got her lipgloss out of her bag and carried on talking as she applied it.

‘I'm totally behind the mission to find him. But you know, we have to be practical. He could be foreign or have a girlfriend or …'

‘He wasn't foreign.'

‘Anyway, I'm just saying in case we don't find him, you should still keep chatting to blokes, or at least not act like you're a man-hater.' She sounded a bit tired of the whole evening. ‘Right, I'm going to meet Charlie. He just texted me. He's finished his shift.'

It was the happiest she'd looked all night. Her plan had worked.

‘Stella, are you kidding?' I pleaded. ‘You organized this date! You can't just leave. What about Sam?'

‘Well, can't you stay and talk to him and say I'm ill, or something?'

‘But I
am
actually ill.'

‘Hannah, you're being so weird. You're always saying we
should try and meet boys and then I introduce you to some and you just act like a freak show.'

‘I just … Please don't leave me with him. He obviously really likes you. I can tell by the way he looks at you.' It made me feel flat saying the words out loud. ‘He'll be gutted if he's left with me.'

‘He's a bloke, he'll get over it … This doesn't have to be so complex. I'll call you tomorrow.' She kissed my cheek. ‘Bye, babe. Shit, your cheek is burning.'

And then she left.

I stood in the toilet. I wanted to leave too. But the thought of Sam waiting and waiting and Stella never appearing seemed so cruel. I had daydreamed about bumping into him when I was wearing the Gatsby dress and him falling in love with me. But the dress was wrong for me and so was he. Toilet Boy was just a fantasy. Sam was the reality, and just like every boy on earth, he wanted Stella.

I walked out slowly. He was still sitting at the table, ripping little pieces off a napkin. He looked lost. I shuffled over to the table and he looked up and smiled at me as I approached. He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.

‘I'm really sorry, Stella had to leave. She's … hungover. She got so drunk last night, and it's just hitting her now.'

‘Oh right,' he said. ‘Poor her.'

I suddenly realized how that must have sounded. That she had pulled him because she was so pissed. I didn't want him to think that. I stared down at the carpet.

‘Not
really
drunk,' I mumbled. ‘I mean … I guess she's a bit
burnt out from exams. She wanted to stay.'

All of a sudden I was just babbling lies. I was painting Stella as some kind of workaholic geek who was in love with him. He looked up from the floor and I met his eyes, then he looked down again. Neither of us spoke. He sat staring at the table and I stood staring at the floor.

‘I really hope Stella's OK,' he said with a smile.

‘I'll tell her to call you.'

I put my bag over my shoulder. He stood up too.

‘So, what are you doing now?' he asked.

Going home to make a wax effigy of you to worship? Getting a giant tattoo of your face across my torso? Going to admit myself to a mental institution? He would probably think all these answers were perfectly possible given the last ten minutes.

‘I'm meeting my boyfriend.'

The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think about them. It was totally involuntary; a knee-jerk reaction.

Maybe it was a last desperate attempt to convince him I was a normal person. This way he might think there was some bloke somewhere who thought I was sane enough to go out with.

His eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, so he just blinked up at me. I knew he didn't believe it. He knew I was bullshitting.
Of course
I didn't have a boyfriend. I was a lunatic who was obsessed with him.