He had a point. For the first time in perhaps his existence, Adam had been punctual, more than punctual. He had been forward thinking even; what was going on?
“Aren’t you coming?” he said, snapping me out of my daydream.
“What? And miss the VIP experience? I think not.”
“Oh shit, oh shit! Adam, my hair,” I screamed above his laughter and the sound of the motor as we deliberately made circles and tore along the lake’s surface. The more I screamed the faster he went, as always torturing me.
“Steeooop, I’ll be sick,” I pleaded, not too convincingly if my laughter had anything to do with it. “Aren’t we meant to be arriving in style?” I shouted above the engine, sweeping the curtain of hair from my face, grimacing at the hour it had taken me to straighten it into perfection.
“We are,” Adam said, finally slowing and cutting a straight line through the murky lake water. “I mean, look at us.”
For the first time I managed to actually look at Adam, really look at him. Behind the steering wheel, Ray-Bans on, his dark hair shifting in the wind. He wore a white-and-navy-checked shirt over a white tee and dark jeans; he made me want to do very bad things to him. And as selfish as it seemed, I kind of wished that we could have stayed this way tonight, that we didn’t have to go to a party, that we could just stay out on the lake and drink booze and watch the sun go down like we always did over the summer. We hadn’t done it in ages though, and the thought that Adam had decided we could make it to the party this way had made me so deliriously happy, a total 360 to how I had felt only moments before. Hurt, shocked, mad, devastated. I should have known better; I should have guessed that Adam would never have done that to me, or anyone. He wasn’t like that. Adam wasn’t the kind to kick anyone off the bus, he would always be the one to offer his seat first; he really was nothing like me. And for all his flaws, his aggravating ways, his tendency to torture me, or even stand me up, he nevertheless made me want to be a better person, a good person. And if I was to be even half the person that he was then I would be pretty bloody remarkable.
“What?” Adam asked. It was only then I realised that I had been staring at him; no, probably ogling him for God knows how long.
“Nothing,” I lied. “Just thinking, I’ve missed this.”
“What, Onslow?”
You. Us.
“Yeah, who’da thought, hey?”
Adam slowed now, gliding along at a speed where the wind simply blew my hair in the right direction and my stomach wasn’t in my throat.
“You don’t usually know what you’ve got till it’s gone,” he said.
Wasn’t that the truth?
“When are you heading back?”
“Tomorrow night, so just easy on these, okay?” I held up my almost-finished Cruiser.
“There’s plenty more where it came from.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said, sipping on the last of the Pineapple Vodka, which tasted more like cordial than alcohol.
“You can say no, you know.”
“Ha! You tend to be very persuasive, Mr Henderson; hence, me on the floor of the ladies’ toilets last night.”
Adam held up one hand. “Hey, I was only partially responsible for your demise.”
That was a pretty accurate account. Still, I would never admit that.
“It only seems to happen when we’re together.”
“So what? No one to carry you home and put you to bed in the big city?” Adam laughed.
“I don’t wipe myself out in the city like I do here. Onslow is bad for my health.”
Adam lowered the throttle, killing the engine as we drifted along the lake.
He must have read my confusion. “What? We’re here,” he said, pointing to the distance with his stubby.
I hadn’t even realised we had arrived, that there in the very distance was the twinkling lights and soft thrums of music playing.
“Won’t we be late?” I questioned.
