The Trouble with Flirting

  Logan looks at his shoes. “I know. I’m sorry.” He glances up. “Do you forgive me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Will it help if I tell you that you’re looking amazing?”

  “Only if you mean it.”

  Pretending to look offended, he says, “Of course I mean it.”

  I relent and give him a small smile. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, Logan, get over here.” Logan looks over his shoulder to where the other guy behind the table is attempting to deal with a large group of people who all seem to want to know about the rowing club.

  “I gotta go,” Logan says, “but it was awesome to see you, Liv.” He gives me a quick hug. “And hey,” he adds. “You don’t have to worry about being on the outside anymore. I’ll make sure you get an invitation to anything you want.”

  I watch him as he gets back to promoting the rowing club, grinning widely, slapping guys on the shoulder, laughing at jokes I can’t hear. My smile slips. Logan may have apologised for ignoring me and promised to get me into any party I want, but I won’t delude myself into thinking we’re actually friends anymore. Perhaps we could be, if I worked really hard at it, but I can tell it won’t come from his side.

  I turn away as I remember I’m supposed to be looking for food. I need to rest my feet for a moment, though. I’d never admit it to Adam, but these shoes are killing me. I head towards Jammie steps to sit down—I’ll have to do some strategic placing of my bag so no one can see up my dress—but before I get there, a group of girls wave to me and call me over. I hesitate, my insecure side telling me they can’t possibly be waving to me, but after a quick glance over each shoulder, I walk towards them. They’re the same four girls, I realise as I get closer, that I wanted to introduce myself to earlier.

  “Hey,” one of them says with a wide smile on her pink-glossed lips. She twists a strand of golden blonde hair around her finger. “Do you know Logan Richmond?”

  That’s what they called me over here for? “Um, yeah. We were at school together.”

  “Oh my Gucci!” she squeals. “So you, like, know him know him.”

  “Um …” All I can think of is the Biblical sense of knowing someone, and I’m pretty sure—at least, I hope—that’s not what she means. “Yes, well, we were really good friends, if that’s what you mean.” I don’t add that we are no longer good friends, since being Logan’s friend appears to be a good thing. “So, he’s quite popular around here, huh?”

  “Are you kidding?” another girl says. Her perfect brown curls suggest she woke up even earlier than I did. “He’s a legend! I mean, at every res gathering we’ve been to since we got here, at least one person has said, ‘You’ve heard of Logan, right?’ So yeah. He’s a Smuts legend.”

  Smuts. The men’s residence on Upper Campus. If I’d got into res as part of Perfect Freshman Year Plan A, I’d know all about Logan the Legend. “So … you’re all in res?” I try to rein in my sad puppy voice, but I may as well paint Feeling So Left Out Right Now across my forehead.

  “Yes,” says Golden Blonde Girl. “Courtney and I are in Graça Machel, and Charlotte and Amber are in Fuller. Oh, and I’m Allegra, by the way.” She holds her hand out to me, that beaming smile never leaving her glossy lips.

  “Allegra?” My musician brain goes straight to the word allegro, and I wonder if the name Allegra means the same thing. The girl attached to it certainly fits the word ‘lively.’

  “Yes. And you are?”

  “Livi,” I say, taking her hand.

  “You’re in our faculty, right?” says Curly Brunette Girl. Charlotte, I remind myself. Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte. The other two names have already flown from my brain, but if I remember nothing else from today, I will remember the names Allegra and Charlotte. “I remember seeing you in the library during the campus tour,” Charlotte continues. “I was admiring your shoes.”

  “They’re incredible,” one of the other two girls says. “I’m so jealous.”

  “Thanks,” I say, remembering a second later to push my shoulders back in a confident pose and flick my hair over one shoulder. “When I saw them, I knew they’d go perfectly with this dress.”

  “You were so right,” Allegra says, nodding. “Anyway, we were just on our way back to Beattie Building for the next orientation thing. You should sit with us.”

  “Oh, yeah, okay.” I try to play it cool as the five of us head back to the Commerce Faculty side of campus, but inside I’m jumping up and down shouting, Yes!

  “So if you were at school with Logan, then you’re also from Durban, right?” Charlotte asks. “Were you in the same year as him?”

  “Yes. I took a gap year last year,” I explain. “I was an au pair in Germany.”

  “That is so exotic,” Allegra says. “Did you meet any hot foreign guys?”

  “Well, there was this one particular guy.” The smile I give them is loaded with meaning. “He was kind of … German nobility.”

  “Oh. My. Gucci.” Allegra stops and takes hold of my arm. “You have to tell us everything.”

  From: Alivia Howard

  Sent: Wed 12 Feb, 10:56 pm

  To: Carl

  Subject: Dear Carl

  I know you’re never going to see this, but I thought I should tell the virtual version of you that you helped me make friends today. Yip. You were an ass and you broke my heart, but it’s all good because I wound up at the university I really wanted to go to, and the girls I met today LOVED hearing about our secret romance. So thanks for that. Also, I don’t think I told you this in person when I had the chance, but … you should really go jump in a lake.

  ___________________________________

  Music. A gentle, soothing melody. It pulls me slowly from the depths of sleep, coaxing my eyes open with its warm, comforting tones. My bedroom is aglow with midmorning light, reminding me that it’s Saturday and I can stay in bed all day if I want to. I roll onto my back and close my eyes as the last cobwebs of sleep disappear and my brain finally recognises the music. One of my favourite piano pieces, Beethoven’s Sonata Pathétique, second movement. Adam—fellow musician geek—must have put it on.

  I lie in bed a while longer as the sun’s warmth tangles itself around the melody. Swirls of imaginary colour twist lazily around my room. Then, out of the blue, the notes stumble over each other and hesitate. My eyes fly open. Wait a second … This isn’t a recording. It’s live.

  I sit up, grab my glasses from my bedside table, and climb out of bed. The music continues as I open my door and pad down the passage on bare feet. I’m pretty sure this house didn’t include a piano last time I checked, but a recording wouldn’t have a mistake in the middle of it. I reach the lounge, and there, next to the L-shaped couch Lynda and Mom picked out for us, is an upright piano. And sitting at it, continuing with the second movement of Sonata Pathétique, is Adam.

  I cross the lounge and stand beside the instrument. “Your piano,” I say.

  He looks up and smiles, his fingers continuing to play. “My piano,” he repeats.

  “But … it … how did it get here?”

  He stops playing and runs both hands through his messy, not-yet-showered hair. “I thought I could handle no piano. I was just gonna get myself a cheap, second-hand keyboard, remember? But I tried some out at a shop last week, and it’s just not the same. So I asked my parents if there was any way they could get my piano here, and my dad made a plan. Some guys with a bakkie who—scarily enough—had never moved a piano before, but somehow managed to get it here in one piece.”

  “Awesome,” I breathe, running my finger gently along the keys. I’ve always loved Adam’s piano. My parents bought me a shiny new piano when I started learning how to play in primary school, back before I chose the violin as my main instrument, but it never had the same character as Adam’s piano, with its heavy wood, scuff marks, stained ivory keys, and faded gold lettering indicating who made it. “When did it get here?”

 
“Yesterday morning, and the piano tuner came yesterday afternoon. You must have missed it when you got home.”

  “Mmm.” I was at Allegra’s res until eleven last night. Not doing anything exciting, unfortunately, rather finishing off a group assignment we’d left until the last minute. It was supposed to be handed in yesterday, but the lecturer gave us all an extension.

  “It must be in by ten tomorrow morning,” she’d said, giving us a stern be-grateful-because-this-won’t-happen-often look. “And I shall be outside my office at one minute past ten to remove all assignments from the box.”

  “Yeah, I was rather late last night,” I say with a yawn, then consider the fact that, to most of the student population, eleven probably isn’t considered late. Especially not on a Friday.

  “So how’s everything going?” Adam asks, leaning back with one hand on the piano stool. “I’ve barely seen you the past two weeks.”

  “Oh, you know, everything’s good. Busy, but good.” I flop onto the couch. Hanging out with Allegra means rushing around all the time. Shopping, coffee dates, meeting up with good-looking guys, lectures, more shopping, res parties, more coffee dates. “Lectures aren’t that exciting, but my friends are great, and there’s this good-looking guy who’s in most of my classes, and I’m pretty sure he’s been checking me out.”

  “That’s … cool.”

  “His name is Jackson,” I continue. “If we were back in high school, I’d have no chance with this guy, but now … everything’s different.”

  “You’re part of the ‘in’ crowd,” Adam says with a sigh, making air quotes with his fingers.

  “Well, yes, I think so.” I stare at the ceiling and twist a piece of hair around my finger. “There are so many different people here, which means there are so many different kinds of ‘in’ crowds. But I’m definitely not ‘that nerdy girl’ anymore. And maybe you think I’m being shallow or whatever, but I like this. I like feeling pretty and confident. I like it that people are friendly purely for the sake of being friendly, and not because they’re about to turn around and make fun of me.”

  “Livi?” Adam waits until I sit up and look at him. “You’ve always been pretty.”

  I tilt my head to the side and give him a smile. “Thanks. But you’re my best friend, so you kinda have to say nice stuff like that.”

  “Not really. Friendship is based on honesty, right? So if you were hideous, I’d have to tell you.” He turns back to the piano and begins playing a new piece. A slow waltz. “Are you too cool these days to play, ‘Guess the composer’?”

  “Ooh, no. Just give me a minute to get breakfast.” I love this game, but my stomach is protesting at not having been fed yet. I dash to the kitchen, get myself a bowl of muesli and yoghurt, and head back to the lounge as Adam continues playing. “Brahms,” I say between mouthfuls.

  Adam nods before changing to something else. “Okay, how about this one.”

  It’s a lively and instantly recognisable tune, bouncing happily along as my brain struggles to connect it to the right name. “Oh, I know this one. I know it, I know it.” I sit down and continue munching. “It’s … that Czech dude with the weird name … Dvořák! And it’s one of the Humoresque pieces, right?”

  “Yes,” Adam says, already modulating into the next piece. “And this one?”

  A fast waltz this time. Bright and happy. The urge to dance is irresistible. I jump up and start spinning around in circles with my cereal bowl. Adam doubles over with laughter, smothering half the keys as I prance around singing, “One, two three, one two three, one, two three.” I bump into the coffee table and say, “Brahms?” Adam recovers enough to shake his head. “No, wait, it’s Chopin.”

  “Yes.” He finishes with a flourish.

  I drop back onto the couch, and, after another mouthful of cereal, say, “Play that other Chopin one. The really fast one.”

  “Which one? Minute Waltz or Fantaisie-Impromptu?”

  “Oh. I forgot about Fantaisie. I was thinking of the Minute Waltz.”

  “All right, then.” Adam wiggles his fingers as I lean on the arm of the couch so I can see properly. “Bring on the show-off piece.”

  His hands hover above the keyboard. He breathes in deeply, then takes off. His fingers fly over the keys at incredible speed, stumbling here and there as he tries to play the piece as fast as possible. When the slow part in the middle arrives, I can see he’s forcing himself to hold back, playing it as it’s written when all he really wants is to speed up. There’s the pause, and then … back to the flying fingers, rushing over the keys, his eyes darting back and forth as they try to keep up, notes tumbling over other other like a thousands drops of water, and then … finished!

  I jump to my feet, clapping and singing, “Standing ovation! Standing ovation!”

  “Um, Livi?” My hands pause mid-clap as I look up. Luke is standing in the doorway holding my phone out to me. “I heard it ringing,” he says. “Twice. I thought it might be important, so … here.”

  “Oh, thank you.” I cross the room and take it from him, my face warming up as my fingers brush his. I wonder if perhaps he’ll stay with us in the lounge—I’ve barely spoken to him in the three weeks I’ve been here—but he disappears before I can say anything else.

  “Why does he always go and hide?” I whisper to Adam.

  “Maybe he doesn’t like your creepy staring.”

  “I don’t stare, I just—” I break off as Adam gives me a pointed look. “Oh. I get it. You’re reminding me that I used to complain about Luke’s creepy staring, and now I’m the one doing the creepy staring. Well, I’m not. I’m just trying to get to know one of my housemates a little bit better.”

  “Really? You didn’t seem interested in getting to know him back when he was Gross Cousin Luke.”

  “Okay, so maybe I should never have called him that. Maybe I should have …” I trail off as I look at my phone’s screen and see two missed calls and three texts from Allegra.

  Allegra: Wake up wake up wake up!

  Allegra: Are you STILL sleeping?

  Allegra: What’s your address again, cos I’m gonna be there in an hour. We’re going to … THE BEACH!

  “Whaaaaat?”

  “What?” Adam asks, looking alarmed.

  “Oh my foot. Allegra’s coming here. HERE!”

  “So?”

  “So? I have to, you know, make a good impression. I can’t lose the group of friends I have now. Everyone’s already formed their cliques, so if Allegra and Charlotte reject me, there’ll be no one left for me to be friends with.”

  Adam rolls his eyes. “I highly doubt that’s true.”

  “And I have to paint my toenails and shave my legs and wash my hair and … ugh!” I grab my cereal bowl from the coffee table, knocking my shin into the edge of the couch at the same time. “Flipping ouch!” I grasp my chin and hop for several seconds while Adam does a terrible job of holding back his laughter. I glare at him. “Okay, so, if you’re still here when she’s here, just … be cool.”

  Adam spreads his arms out. “I’m always cool.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Back in my bedroom, I assess the scene for signs of nerdiness. My Marauder’s Map cushion will need to be hidden. Or will it? Harry Potter is pretty much universally loved, so maybe I can risk Allegra seeing it. She can’t hate me for loving Harry Potter, can she? Maybe she’s read the books too! My violin and music stand have to go, though. There are too many ‘orchestra geek’ taunts fresh in my memory to risk that one. I slide them both under my bed, then remove my Star Trek DVDs from the DVD collection on the bookshelf and hide them in my cupboard.

  Right. Shower time.

  ***

  Allegra sends a message when she reaches our gate. I grab my beach bag—towel, sunscreen, sarong, water bottle, no book, and the sunglasses I recently borrowed from Charlotte—and rush out of the house. I meet Allegra on the front stairs. “Hey!” I give her a hug. “Cool, let’s get going.”

  “Wait,
I want to see your house.”

  “Oh, don’t bother.” I conceal my panicked expression with a bored one. “It’s nothing exciting.”

  “Well, yeah, I get that.” She lowers her voice and winks. “I want to see the guys you live with.” She jumps up the stairs and lets herself in. I follow her, silently praying nothing goes wrong. “Awesome,” she says, poking her head into the lounge. “This place is totally vintage cool.”

  “Thanks,” I say with a laugh that hopefully doesn’t sound too strangled.

  “And where’s your room? Down here?” She heads off down the passage before I can answer. Before she gets there, though, Adam appears in his doorway. Fortunately, he’s had a shower since our ‘Guess the composer’ game, so we’re spared seeing him in his sleep shorts—although something tells me Allegra wouldn’t have minded that. “Oh, hey,” Allegra says. She tucks her hair behind one ear, and I’m willing to bet she’s giving Adam her shy smile.

  “Um, hi.” He leans in his doorway, probably trying to look cool as per my instructions. He ends up looking kind of awkward, though. “You’re Allegra, right?” he says. “I’m Adam.”

  “Hi, Adam. It’s great to meet you. Livi hasn’t told me nearly enough about you.” She looks over her shoulder and winks at me while I try to figure out who I’m more embarrassed to be in front of right now.

  The sound of a door opening makes me turn around. Luke walks out of his bedroom, looking surprised—and a little terrified—to find us all standing in the passage.

  “Luke, this is my friend Allegra,” I say quickly. “She just stopped by to pick me up. We’re on our way to the beach.” I grab Allegra’s arm and steer her past Luke and back towards the front door.

  I’ve barely closed the door behind us when Allegra squeals. “Livi! You did not tell me he was that hot!”

  “Shh.” I drag her away from the house towards her car.