Noah’s cheeks turn peach-pink. “I’m notreadingit. I just read a chapter sometimes. It’s taking me a while, and besides, it’s not my copy, it’s my mum’s. When did you see that book, anyway?”
“After Craig’s party.”
“Oh.” His expression changes. We’re both thinking of the same thing. The party, the rumours, that lunchtime.
“Why are you here?” That sounds too harsh, so I try to counter-balance it. “Want to watch the rest of this with me?”
What the hell, Eve. He doesn’t. He’s already seen it, and you’re not friends.
Noah’s brows jump up. “Oh. Um … I have a better idea. That’s the reason I came.” He shifts on the couch so he can reach into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out two rectangles of card.
“They’re tickets,” he explains when I don’t speak. “Here’s yours.” He passes one to me.
A committee of Year 12s designed the ticket, so the artwork is basic, the fonts cheesy. The printer left the text a little blurry.
When I look up, Noah’s smiling sheepishly. Again.
“What the hell, Noah?”
His smile disappears. Again.
“You haven’t talked to me in two weeks, and now, hours before the social, you show up and hand me a ticket. What is this? What am I supposed to do with this?” I wave it.
“I … I thought we could go.”
“Go?” I repeat. “Together?”
“Eve,” he says, scooting forward on the couch. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I haven’t talked to you before now. I was afraid to since I was … was a dickhead to you that day—”
Guilt clogs my throat, and I shake my head. “Don’t. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have told Henry about your feelings, I know I shouldn’t have, I let my temper get the best of me—”
“I know. I know you never wanted to hurt me.”
“I’m sorry, Noah. I know how important it was to you. I wish I’d never done it.” I cover my face with my hands, eyes burning. “I’m so, so, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Noah says, putting a hand on my arm. “It’s okay.”
“It isn’t.”
“Eve, I’m sorry what I said to you that day. I didn’t mean it.”
Him apologising makes me feel more guilty. “I deserve it. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I went psycho at Henry …”
“He was being horrible to you, and I should have done something. He’s not like that. I’m not making excuses for him, but he was scared …”
“I know,” I say, uncovering my face and sniffing. Noah’s eyes are wide with emotion, and we take a moment to compose ourselves.
“So, um.” He clears his throat after minutes have passed. “I thought we could go to the social together, try to patch things up. I meant to give you the tickets earlier, but I kept changing my mind and only made a decision fifteen minutes ago—”
“You bought tickets for the both of us last Friday?”
He nods.
My jaw drops open. “Noah, are you crazy? Why are you only telling me about the formal now? It starts in—” I look around for the clock, “—two hours!”
“Fuck, was this a bad idea?” he asks. “Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry! I bought them on impulse …” he runs a hand through his hair.
“No,” I interrupt. “It’s … it’s a good idea. In theory.”
