“The way I see it, more people should hide at parties.”
He chuckles, and it’s surprisingly musical, like a wind chime. “You’re right. Everyone else are the insane ones, enjoying being squished in a tiny room with that deafening music.”
“You were there too? The entire time, I thought about committing seppuku.”
“I must not have seen you. Everyone looked like they were having the time of their life.”
“Oh, I was pretending to,” I explain. “No one likes a downer.”
“But you’re here now.”
“I can only pretend for so long. And, to tell the truth…I’m hiding from someone.”
“You mentioned that.”
“From someone in particular. A girl.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this, but I don’t want him to think I’m avoiding the party for no reason.
“That…is not what I was expecting you to say. Is there something wrong with her?”
“No, she’s great. Really nice and pretty and clever, too.”
“Then why are you running from her?”
“She likes me.”
He’s silent for a beat. “God, what a horrible fate for you.”
“I know it sounds silly, but I don’t want her to confess because I don’t like her back.”
“You can reject her.”
“I can’t. It’ll hurt her feelings.”
“That’s inevitable,” the stranger says. “I’m not saying to be a dick about it. You can let her down gently.”
“There’s no gentle way to reject someone.” An image of Lily's face appears in my mind, the way her shoulders would droop if I told her I wasn’t interested. “I just can’t do it,” I say.
The stranger probably thinks I’m being silly and dramatic, but to both my relief and surprise, he doesn’t say so. “Perhaps there’s another way. Can’t you just date someone else?”
“I don’t want to date anyone, period,” I say. Sure, it’d be nice to fall in love someday, but that’ll happen after I’ve graduated and have smoothly moved to Melbourne, where I’ll just be one anonymous person among millions.
“Well, maybe you can just drive this girl to hate you,” the stranger suggests. “Stop wearing deodorant, or start being obnoxious, or something like that.”
I shudder. “No way. Preventing her from hating me is the whole point.”
The stranger considers that. “I’m not sure what you can do, then. But I hope everything works out.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Are you dating anyone at the moment?”
“God no,” he says with the same finality I used when I said I didn’t want to date. That reassures me, like I’m not a weirdo for not being interested in dating. “Maybe I will in university, though,” he adds.
“Same. Maybe I will after I graduate, but not now.”
“Are you in Year 12?” he asks.
“Yeah, you?”
“Yeah,” he answers.
