"I've forgotten to give jackets back in the past," Bonnie says. "And hoodies. And jumpers. Guys have given them to me and I've just forgotten."
"God, no need to make me jealous. I get it."
Bonnie almost stumbles on the footpath. "W—what?"
"You, drowning in men," I say, gesturing dramatically. I wish I were surrounded by admirers, but I guess Kennedy's right about how obnoxious I am.
Her cheeks flush. "No, that's not what I meant."
"You just said that guys give you their clothes all the time, Bonnie," I tease with a wagging finger.
"Now I sound like I'm bragging," she says.
"If I were in your place, I'd brag like hell. But the most romantic compliment I've received in recent years is that you thought I was hot. Although I don't know how much weight I should give that compliment because you also called him hot." I jerk a thumb in Curtis's direction.
Thankfully, he's talking to Erin, probably about something boring as hell, so he doesn't hear.
Bonnie's mouth falls open. "What? You don't think Curtis is —" she lowers her voice, "— attractive?"
I open my mouth, about to retort in the negative, when I remember my promise to Kennedy. By explaining that I don't think Curtis is attractive, I'd have to explain how the way his awful personality overshadows his looks.
"I mean, I don't like him in that way," Bonnie clarifies. "But from an objective perspective… he's… you know. Kennedy's lucky."
"I… okay, yeah, I guess." Bonnie's studying my face and I flush, feeling awkward. I change the topic. "So tell me about all your suitors."
Bonnie snuggles in her jacket, looking at her feet for a moment, before launching into a long speech. She explains that she's had a couple of boyfriends in the past, but now she's not interested in anyone.
I tell her I wish I had a love life. I've had a few crushes from afar, and a ridiculous number of fictional crushes.
"Don't tell me they're all anime characters."
"What's wrong with anime characters?" I ask.
"They're so good-looking. Impossibly hot," Bonnie says. "Real people can't compete."
I laugh. "Okay, that's true."
The five of us slow down as we approach a fish and chip shop at the end of the park. The shop is red and white and decorated as if it's from the 1950s. We wait in the busy line and once at the front, Erin asks for the Harding order. Everyone gets their phones out to pay, and Curtis appears to be winning the race until I swoop in and tap my phone against the card reader. Everyone grumbles good-naturedly while I pick up the bundle of chips wrapped in white-grey paper. When I turn, Curtis is still standing behind me, frowning. He paid for the groceries — the least I can do as a fellow guest is pay for as many dinners as I can. I'm about to tell him this until I see our feet are almost touching. "Didn't mean to push you out of the way," I say, remembering how I jumped in front of him. "But hey, I'll let you get the next one."
His eyes fall, seeing how close we're standing, and turns away, shoulders stiff. Jesus. For someone so obsessed with personal finance, he should be pleased he's saving money.
Bonnie grabs the box of fish and the bottle of soft drink, and we leave the shop to find a nice place to sit in the park.
"But seriously," Bonnie says, falling into step beside me. "Girls must have crushes on you at school."
I shake my head. "Remember what Kennedy said at her house? I'm apparently very obnoxious."
"That's gotta be a lie."
"Bonnie, are you flattering me?" I tease.
She nudges me with her elbow. "I'm just saying that you seem friendly to me."
"Aw. Thanks. You hear that, Kennedy?" I say, raising my voice.
The others have wandered a couple of metres away, finding a spot on an open area of lawn, and Kennedy tugs a picnic blanket from Erin's backpack. "Huh?" she calls.
"Bonnie said that I'm not obnoxious. That's the kind of thing a best friend is supposed to say."
